Thursday, April 25, 2019

change of plans.


Disappointments hurt whether we are 5 or 55.  We don’t like when our plans change.  As parents, we often don’t tell our children the events that we have planned for each day until we are literally on our way, because kids don’t do well with changed plans.  

But the truth is, we as adults don’t always do so well either.

God gave me a glimpse of that tonight…

Tuesday night, I got a text from a friend from church inviting me to have dinner tonight with her and another friend from church.  I told her I would have to look at the boy’s baseball schedules, but that I would try to make it if possible. 

It turned out that Knox had practice, but that Jaxon did not, but Jaxon did want to go with his brother and his dad to practice, so that just left me and Paxton.  I texted my friend from church back and told her that I thought I could probably make dinner work if it was okay that Paxton tagged along…

Soooo… fast forward to this morning…  the first question out of Paxton’s mouth every morning is “do I have school today?”  And the second question out of her mouth every morning is “what are we going to do today?”

That child is busy.  She always wants to be on the go and always wants to be doing something and always wants to be around people… and I have no idea where she got that… 

So this morning I told her that she did have school today and that tonight we were going to eat…

The entire day was pretty normal, but after school, Jaxon was complaining of having a stomach ache… I didn’t think a whole lot about it because he seemed to be okay.  Shortly after getting home from school, I got a text from the friend who had invited me to dinner asking for a  rain check because some things had changed with her family at the last minute… Of course I understood and told her that we could go another time.  I honestly dreaded telling Paxton we weren’t going though…  She came in and asked when we were leaving and I told her that I wasn’t sure we would be able to go because Mrs Cathy asked to reschedule.  Tears welled up in her eyes, and she asked if we could ask Sisa if she could still go.  So I texted Sisa, and asked her if she still wanted to go, and she said yes.  So our plan A didn’t work out, but we now had a plan B, and all was still okay in Paxton’s world.

Knox got ready for baseball practice, and Jaxon got his shoes on to leave with his brother and his dad.  Paxton and I walked out the door about five minutes after the guys, and headed to Sisa’s house to ride with her to go to eat.  My little girl was so tired after a long day at school, but was happy to be going somewhere and she laughed and talked all the way to Reidland.  We got to Sisa’s and moved Paxton’s car seat to her van, and then headed to get some dinner.  Three or four minutes later I looked down at my phone (that was on silent) and realized that I had three missed calls from Justin, one right after the other.  Immediately I knew that something wasn’t right and I called him back, only to learn that they were on the side of the road with Jaxon throwing up and that I was going to have to come get him so that Justin could get Knox to practice.  I motioned to Sisa that she needed to turn around, and she turned and headed the opposite direction of the Mexican restaurant that we so wanted to be at, and headed back to her house to get my van.

My little girl began to sob.  Her quiet cries quickly turned into a super loud five year old fit because she was tired and her heart felt broken that our plans had changed again.  Our plan A had turned to plan B and had now turned to plan C, and she just wasn’t okay.  She cried all the way back to Sisa’s house, then she laid in the floor throwing a thrashing fit as I tried to get her and her carseat moved back to my van so that we could go take care of Jaxon.  I calmly talked to her and tried to tell her that we would do it another time.  My calm words didn’t help.  Eventually I picked up her carseat and walked away from her for a few minutes and went and put it in my van.  Then I walked back to my screaming child, and reached my arms out to her and told her “come on.”  The first time she shook her head “no” at me, but I kept my arms reached out to her and without much hesitation, she reached up to me, and I lifted her out of the van and turned to walk away.  She’s obviously big enough to walk to the car by herself. I honestly had no business carrying her- she’s really heavy.  But in that moment, I knew that she was tired and disappointed and that she just needed to be held.  She laid her head down on my shoulder, and the crying didn’t stop immediately, but she started to catch her breath and relax.  I held her tight on the way to the van, then I sat her in her seat, and I fastened her seatbelt around her and kissed her head and closed the door.

Within a couple of minutes, she was sound asleep and as we drove to get our sick, throwing up Jaxon, God spoke to my heart about disappointments and changed plans.  He spoke to my heart about how I don’t like changed plans… and I cried as I thought about me sobbing and throwing a fit, and picturing Him reaching His arms out to me and just saying “come on.”

I might hesitate, but by the grace of God, I always reach my weak arms back up to Him and let Him pick me up and carry me.  And I praise Him that even though I’m “big” enough to walk by myself, He knows when I’m tired and I’m disappointed and I just need to be held.

God even spoke to my heart about the fact that we don’t share our plans with our children until the last possible minute because they can’t handle changed plans- and about how that is so reflective in a lot of ways to His plan for my life… He has such a good plan.  Such a perfect plan… but He only shows that plan to me when I seek that plan and when I’m ready to know that plan.  And I’m thankful that He knows better than I do when I’m ready.

Does anything better show us the heart of God than being a parent?  I don’t think so. 
I’m so thankful for the gift of motherhood and I’m so thankful that God never stops teaching me.

Thursday, March 14, 2019

Eleven

 
Eleven.

This stage is new.  This stage is different.  This stage is a little hard.

But I guess technically every stage of motherhood has a little “hard” in it.  But it’s the greatest privilege I’ve ever loved.

But eleven. 

It’s hard to think about how quick we got to eleven.  It feels like it’s flown by.  But at the same time it feels like a lifetime ago since we brought you home and it was just me, and you, and your dad.  Just the three of us.  Those times were sweet.  But those times somehow seem like forever ago, and yesterday, all at the same time.

Your heart is so tender.  You’re such a good friend.  You’re the best big brother.  You’re an amazing son.  You worry more than I wish that you would, especially since I know that trait came from me.  You love big and that makes my heart swell with pride, because that’s another thing that I know came from me.  You are a good friend, and I hope I can take a little credit for that too.  I’m watching you become more like your dad… less like a little boy, and more like a young man.  If you grow up to be just like your dad, that’ll be fine by me and this world will be lucky to have you.  You’re almost as tall as me now.  You eat more than me for sure.  But you still can’t beat me at ball… 😊

I pray so many things for you as I try to learn to be a good mom to you in this new stage of life.  It’s your first time to be an almost teenager.  But it’s also my first time to be the mom of an almost teenager.  Eleven is weird.  You’re not a little boy any more.  But you’re not a teenager yet either, and you’re just kind of stuck there in the middle of it all… you’re learning so much.  I watch you learning to love and it thrills my heart and scares me to death all at the same time. 

I watch you as you try to figure out life.  I watch you long for deep friendship.  I watch you as you are becoming a better, more mature Christian.  But I watch you closely as you’re learning to love.

I’m not one to encourage a “relationship” at your age.  You’ve got plenty of years of heartbreak and puppy love ahead of you.  I wish I could protect you from your heart ever breaking, but I know that I can’t do that.  But as you’re learning to love, there are many things that I pray for you.  And there are things about this stage in your life that I don’t want to forget.  So tonight I’m putting some of those things down in writing.

I love your friendship with your friend, and our neighbor, K.  I love how sweet you are to her, but I love that you don’t take it easy on her when you two are playing ball in the driveway.  I love how she’s tough and holds her own against you, and I know someday I’m going to watch her playing high school basketball and I’ll think back to your days of playing in the driveway and wonder if one of the reasons she’s so tough and so aggressive on the court is because you never went easy on her and treated her like a girl in the driveway.

I think back to a time recently that you kids were outside playing with your siblings and a few of the other kids in our neighborhood and you all ran to the door because you were just sure that you had heard gun shots.  I tried to assure you all that it more than likely wasn’t gunshots, but honestly I had no idea whether it was or not.  About that time, K’s mom texted me and asked me to send her home.  I relayed the message, and as she turned to head home, you looked at me and said “I’ll walk home with her so she won’t be scared.”  Honestly, I think you were more afraid than she was.  But God showed me through you that day that when we care a lot about someone, it makes us brave.

I hear it in your voice and I see it in your shy smile when you talk about K… you’re beginning to like her as more than just a friend.  But I love that your friendship is so pure and innocent and that it all revolves around basketball.  Playing together… texting about your games, her games, Graves/Marshall games, Kentucky/Louisville games, Golden State games…  I just watch your sweet little friendship in amazement and I remember more innocent days gone by and wish time passed more slowly.

I read your text messages.  And I know her mom reads hers as well.  I look through your photo gallery on your phone and see that you save most of the selfies that she sends you. 

Eleven.

I’m not naïve.  I know that the chances of that blonde haired girl that plays ball in our driveway being a part of your life forever beyond friendship is slim to none.  But I think back to when I was eleven.  And the first boy that I ever scribbled the words “I love you” to on a handwritten note on wide ruled loose leaf paper out of my 5th grade binder at school just so happens to be laying across the bed from me right now reading a book.

Eleven

It’s new.  It’s different.  It’s hard. 

You’ve got a lot of life left to live.  And I can’t wait to watch you live it.  But today, I love watching you learn to love bigger.  And I love watching you learn to be a friend better.  And I pray that you’ll always remember that being a good friend comes before love.  Always.

Eleven is new.  Difficult.  Hard.  But oh is it fun. 

Seeing the world through your eyes is fun, my eleven year old. 

Keep loving big, my boy.




Sunday, January 6, 2019

And He was there.


Can we talk about today for a minute?

Or 2019, so far in general?  Can we talk about that?

We are 6 days in so far, and I have felt like, for the most part, I’ve been nothing but a big ball of anxious nerves.  I’ve been trying to do all the right things and say all the right words and have the right attitude.  I’ve studied God’s Word every day and I’m leading a group of women to do the same.  But it seems like the harder I’ve tried this week, the more crippling my anxiety has been.

On Thursday night, one of the most precious ladies at Rosebower Baptist Church suddenly passed away.  She was 83 years old, so she wasn’t “young” but she didn’t act 83 years old.  Barbara Lou was one of the biggest encouragers to my family and she loved us so well, and her death honestly just shook me to my core.  I’ve cried more tears since Thursday evening then I’ve cried in quite some time.  Barbara’s passing has left a big hole that I’m not sure how it will be filled- a hole in her family, a hole in Rosebower, a hole in my life.  The more I’ve cried, the worse my anxiety has gotten and it’s just been a hard last few days.

Barbara Lou was a special lady.  She loved so big and she loved my kids like they were hers.  When we first came to Rosebower, at the first VBS we attended, Knox bit into a cornbread muffin that Barbara had made.  He (loudly, because he’s Knox, and he doesn’t do anything not loudly) exclaimed that it was gross because someone had forgotten to put the blueberries in the muffins.  So the next night, Barbara brought Knox 2 dozen homemade blueberry muffins that she made just for him.  And she’s brought him 2 dozen homemade blueberry muffins to every vacation bible school since then.  We are going to miss those blueberry muffins this year, but not as much as we will miss Barbara Lou. 

She’s always showed up to give help and advice (even though the advice sometimes wasn’t wanted at the time and sometimes came across as bossy).  You could just count on her to always be there.  She made freezer meals for me when I needed help making dinners for my family and she taught Justin how to make chicken fajitas so he could help me out.  She gave my kids spending money when we would go on trips.  She brought me big bags to church loaded up with snacks on basketball tournament weekends so that we wouldn’t have to spend so much money in the concession stand.  She baked food for me to feed the women in my summer neighborhood bible story so that I could focus on preparing the bible study and not worry about snacks.  She let me use her credit card to buy tickets to a women’s event one time because I couldn’t find Justin to get the church card.  When we bought our house, she cleaned in so that it would be clean before we moved into it.  She hugged me and told me she was proud of me, often, and I knew that she meant it.

Jaxon had a basketball tournament in Indiana this weekend.  I went with him yesterday, and my mom and stepdad spent the night and stayed with him so that he could play with his team today.  As I drove home last night, for three and a half hours, I struggled with my thoughts.  I felt so torn.  I didn’t want to leave Jaxon in Indiana without me.  I didn’t want him to think that I didn’t care enough to be there.  But I knew I had to come home.  I didn’t need to miss this morning’s church service, and there was no way that I was going to miss Barbara Lou’s funeral.  My anxiety was bad.  And as Paxton slept in the back seat, and tears streamed down my face as I drove, I was honest with God.  I told Him how bad my heart hurt and how bad I was struggling and how alone I felt and how I felt like I was just going through the motions in everything in my life right now…

And through tears, I sobbed to Him saying, “I need to see You clearer.  I know You’re there.  I trust You’re there.  But no matter how much time I spend in Your Word, I’m having a hard time seeing You right now.  I know You’re good.  I really do.  But I can’t see You.  Please let me see You.”

And He heard my prayer.

Church felt different this morning.  Like I said, there’s just a hole.  I walked down the hall ways and it felt weird not seeing Barbara Lou walk toward me, with her arms open waiting to hug Paxton.  I peeked my head into the Sunday School classroom that she’s a member of, and it just didn’t feel right.  But, this morning, at church, His presence was everywhere.  We sang songs about Heaven, and about glorifying His Name, and He was there.  We prayed about trusting Him more, about how everything belongs to Him, and about how we are to be anxious for nothing, and He was there.  We gathered at the altar to pray for our church and our community and for His glory above all else, and He was there. 

Barbara Lou’s funeral was one of the most God centered funerals I’ve ever attended.  He was there.  The men’s quartet sang once again about Heaven.  And He was there.  “… as I entered the gates of that city, my loved ones they all knew me well.  They took me down the streets of Heaven, such scenes were too many to tell.  I saw Abraham, Jacob, and Isaac, talked with Mark, and Timothy… but I said, ‘I want to see Jesus, because He’s the One who died for me…” The entire congregation began to applaud and tears streamed down so many faces, and He was there.  His presence filled that place.  The gospel was shared and peace filled each heart as we were assured that Barbara was, at that very moment, in the presence of Jesus Christ, the One Who died for her.  And He was there.

We went to the cemetery, and I felt His presence once more as my sweet husband proclaimed that in a cemetery, it’s easy to look around and see tombstone after tombstone after tombstone and to feel like death has won.  But we know that Jesus defeated death and that this isn’t the end and that death doesn’t win.  And He was there.

Barbara Lou’s granddaughter, my sweet friend, Haley and I walked to the front parking lot of the church today and watched the most beautiful sunset on the most beautiful, perfect, January day.  And He was there.  I think we both felt Him.

Tonight at church, my husband sat beside me and my daughter slept in my lap, and my two sons sat on the other side of me and I realized that there’s never been a time before that moment that all five of us have sat together in church.  That doesn’t happen much when your husband’s the preacher.  And He was there.  I felt Him.  And I smiled.

I’m exhausted tonight.  I’ve cried so many tears that I have a headache and I honestly feel dehydrated.  But I didn’t want the night to get away before writing down some words and thanking God for answering the simple prayer of a heart broken, anxiety filled momma, driving down I65 last night.  I asked Him to let me see Him.

And He did.  Everywhere.  All day.

I’m going to do some great things in 2019.  Just you wait and see.  I’m going to get better at this “being anxious for nothing” thing.  I’m going to trust Him more.  I’m going to write more.  And I’m going to love more.  I’m not going to run a marathon.  I honestly probably won’t even run a 5k.  I want to get healthier but I’ll probably never completely give up Mountain Dew and drink a gallon of water every day.  I want to be a better mom and a better wife, but I probably will never cook homemade, healthy meals every night of the week for my family.

But one thing I will do this year is look for God more.

 I’m going to see Him more.  Because He’s already there, I just need to open up my eyes and look for Him.  He’s all around me.  So whether it’s with a big smile on my face on days that I’ve laughed so hard I can’t breathe, or whether I’ve cried all the tears I think I can cry on a day full of unimaginable grief- I’m looking for Him.

I saw You today, God. 

Thank You.

Tuesday, January 1, 2019

Forever on your side...


Like 90% of Americans, or possibly humans in general, I set forth this morning to start the new year on a positive note.  I want to be healthier and happier and more like Jesus in 2019.  So, the first thing I wanted to do this morning was go for a walk.

Thankfully it wasn’t raining because I loathe the treadmill.  So I threw on a sweatshirt and my tennis shoes, and right before walking out the door, I decided to ask the kids if they wanted to join me.  They got new bikes for Christmas, so Jax and Paxton decided they wanted to ride their bikes along beside me.  Knox just wanted to walk though.  He likes to hold my hand and walk and I’ll let him do it for as long as he wants to.

So we started on our walk/bike ride.  We were almost to the one mile mark of our journey when Paxton had her first bike crash.  She took the turn a little too quick and went down.  She hopped right up, a little shook up but not too badly bothered.  She got right back on her bike.  We hit the one mile mark, and turned to head back home.  Jax and Paxton rode ahead, and Paxton was riding faster, trying to keep up with her big brother.  Knox and I walked behind them, still able to see them always, but they were getting smaller and smaller as they got farther away. 

Then I saw it happen.  She crashed again, but this time it was much faster and harder.  I saw her go down and I raced toward her, just knowing that she was going to be bleeding and have busted teeth from hitting her face on the pavement by the time that I got to her.  She laid in the road.  Screaming.  Crying.  I couldn’t get to her fast enough, and Knox ran toward her too.  Jaxon had turned his bike around and was heading back toward her too and he got to her right as we did.

I picked her bike up off of the top of her.  I picked her up and brushed her off.  Thankfully there was no blood like I had suspected.  There was just tears.  A lot of tears.  I hugged her and held her for a few minutes as I tried to calm her down.  As she was crying with her head on my shoulder, I realized two things.  Number one- I couldn’t carry her back home.  It was too far and she is too heavy.  And number two- we were somehow going to have to get her bike back home because I felt certain there was no way that she would be brave enough to get back on it.

So I asked her, “do you think you can get back on your bike and ride the rest of the way home?”

Through tears, with her bottom lip protruding she just shook her head “no.”

And that’s when I saw the coolest thing happen.

Her brother, Knox, the stubborn 7 year old that lives to fight with his little sister, spoke up and said “well, can you ride it home if I walk beside you and hold onto you?”

And then Jax said, “and I’ll ride beside you…”

And her little head perked up, her bottom lip went back where it belonged, and there were still tears all over her cold little red cheeks, but this time her head shook “yes.”

So she stood up.  Knox held her bike steady and I picked her up and placed her back on the seat.  And she rode home.  With one brother walking beside her, his hand never leaving her right handle bar as he constantly steadied her.  And with her other brother riding protectively alongside of her and making her feel surrounded and safer.

And I couldn’t help but think that this was the way God planned for things to work all along.  When one falls, the others pick her up and travel beside of her, steadying her, surrounding her, and rallying for her all the way Home.

You’re not as afraid of falling when you know there is someone beside you that won’t leave you alone and that’s going to help hold you up when you’re too scared and weak and hurt to do it alone.  You feel braver and more confident too.  It’s easier to stay steady when your brother has his hand on your handlebars and he’s assured you he’s not going to take it off. 

“Oh I don’t know what’s around the bend.
Oh, all I know is that my love, it knows no end…

All these pieces they fall in line
Because I’m forever on your side
Take my hand when you can’t see the light
Cause I’m forever on your side
I will carry you every time
Because I’m forever on your side
Oh I’m forever on your side

They’ll beat you up
But don’t let them keep you down
You’re always tough enough
And I’ll always be around…”