Happy Fifth Birthday, Miah...

I feel like this is a rite of passage kind of birthday...  Somehow, when you turn five, you're not a "baby" anymore.  But my brain is having difficulty making this connection.  How can my baby not be a baby...

And yet, here she is... absolutely beautiful, a far cry from the very grey, cheesy, pitiful little thing she was when she came into the world:

Miah chose Chuck-E-Cheese for her birthday dinner (should I admit that the one good thing about getting the "baby" to age five is that I do not see any more trips to the rat infested, cardboard pizza palace in our future):

And, here, she is blowing out a five candle that is stuck in a pan of brownies, because the cake is coming at the party, later on:
 

Per normal, she made out like a bandit in the birthday present department:

She even got a unicorn, compliments of Daddy who had to work pretty hard to figure out which of the secret Lego minifigures was the unicorn, without opening the packages:

Even though I'm having a little bit of trouble processing how quickly she's growing up, I can't wait to see what the next five years hold...

Mama loves you, "Miah Moose"... Much... Much... Much...

This Might Be the Most Important Post I Have Ever Written...

The past month has taken me places I thought I would never go.  And I mean never.

I'm not even going to try to make excuses for it.  It was just me.  Pretty much being an idiot.  But I would like to explain, apologize, maybe share something I've learned.  

I have struggled, deeply, with... everything.  And in the midst of this struggle I did some research that led me to the following quote, which has been haunting me since I first read it:

"A cloud of missed possibilities envelops every beginning: it is always this beginning, this universe, and not some other. Decision lacks innocence. Around its narrations gather histories of grievance: what possibilities were excluded?" (Keller, 2003, 160).  

I know, I know, who cites stuff on a personal blog?  Bear with me...

There is a part of me that wishes this book was never suggested.  Heck, there is a part of me that wishes this quote was never penned.  Sometimes I think it was easier when I didn't know as much.  I've been quoting Ecclesiastes 1:18 for a long time now, "For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief" (NIV).  It is still true.  The more I know, the truer it gets.  Even though I love learning, sometimes I just want to stop.  I can see myself with my hands over my ears, but I can never quite say, "Enough is enough!"  I don't really know if I should share this.  Maybe your life would be better if you didn't know it.  Quite seriously, if you think that might possibly be the case, don't read on.  It's OK.  I don't need you to know this.

But, here's the thing.  We all make choices.  I grew up thinking that there was always one right choice, one good choice, one best choice, just one.  I think I was wrong.  In fact, looking back on it I think there are a lot of good choices I could have made, that I didn't, even when the choices I did make were good ones.  This is much more painful than looking at the good choices in my life and thinking, "Well, I dodged a bullet there... and there... and there..."  If there are multiple good choices, that means we miss out on something good, even when we choose the very best thing we're capable of choosing in the moment.  Histories of grievance are not easy to deal with.

I would like to suggest that you don't even try.  It might cause your heart to break over excluded possibilities, and believe me, you don't want to go there.  Not really.      
   
For days... and days... and days...  in a corporate worship experience, I have been directed back to Psalm 51:17, "My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise" (NIV).  I don't really like being broken as much as I used to.  But it's OK.

I want to fix this.  In fact, I had a really amazing time with God last night, driving home in the dark with a couple of sleeping kids, just listening.  I need to embrace my life, and it's not even that hard to do, because my life really is amazing.  As a variation on a common phrase in the business world, whatever you're doing is perfectly designed for the results you're getting.  I have made good choices.  If the six other people who live at my house are any indication, the results are near perfect.  

But I have to be honest.  I don't have it all together.  Humility is hard, and I think I'm headed for a season of healing that is going to take more time than I want it to.  I'm committed to however long it takes.  You could definitely pray for me.

L. 

Works Cited:

Holy Bible. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2011. Print.

Keller, Catherine. Face of the Deep: A Theology of Becoming. London: Routledge, 2003. Print.

The Past Two+ Weeks...

...have been a whirlwind of travel.

On Saturday, February 7th, Phil and I left for the M15 conference in Kansas City.  We returned home on the 13th.  On the 14th, Caleb and I went to the EMD February District Quiz.  The 15th, Phil's birthday, we spent together as a family.  The 16th I dropped Grace and Caleb off for their guitar lesson and then picked them up and dropped them off at home, where my teenagers babysat my little people while Phil and I went to a funeral.  The 17th, Phil, Seth, Grace, Caleb, and I took a trip to Indiana for piano lessons and Junior Festival practice.  We returned home on the 18th in time to pick up Ian and Miah and drop all of the kids off at home, while Phil and I went to lead our young adults small group.  On Thursday, February 19th, I stayed in my pajamas all day long and watched movies with Miah and Ian.  Then on the 20th, we dropped them off again, and Phil, Seth, Grace, Caleb, and I (along with our friend Rachel) left for the Sterling Invitational Quiz.  We picked Ian and Miah up, today, Sunday, February 22nd.

In case you don't want to do the math, this means that my youngest two children have spent at least part of 12 of the past 16 days with their grandparents.  Honestly, when I dropped them off this last time I said, "We brought your kids back.  Thanks for letting us have them for a few days."  On two of the other days, I also had to leave them for part or most of the day.  This is not how I do "Mommy".  And the truth is, I've been feeling kind of sorry for myself...

I was going to say that the word for my life for the past two + weeks has been "distracted".  But when I stopped to think about it deeply, that's not quite right.  The word for my life is still, "blessed".  I have certainly been blessed with a lot of friends and family members who have made these days possible.  

I really mean that, but I have been distracted, and I do need to find a better rhythm of life again.  Not that I've ever "arrived", but I had better rhythms than this... in what seems life another lifetime...

I'm not sure what's going to happen next.  No one ever is, really.  What I do know is that something is happening.  May it be what God wants.  May I join God in that work.  Can we ever ask for anything more?

Well... maybe just one more thing...  If you're one of those friends who is dropping your kids off at guitar at the same time as mine tomorrow, if you could just avoid looking through my window and noticing my sweatpants and baseball cap, that would be fabulous...

L. 

I Have Been...

... far too extrinsically motivated lately.

Seriously, I don't even know myself anymore when I am starting to think I could possibly be exhibiting signs of extroversion...

And I'm even posting about it on a public blog...

Which must mean I need attention...

Awkward...

L.

Revisiting "Journey", Chapter 32, "One of the Reasons Why My Third Child is So Special"...

Note:  This is an old post from a long time ago...  So, nobody should panic when they read the first line!

*****

It's really amazing what one little pink line on a stick can do.  Although I knew it wasn't likely that I was pregnant, I was late.  And I'm never that late unless I'm pregnant.  I remember taking a home pregnancy test the day after Seth's third birthday.  And let me mention, here, that home pregnancy tests are terrible! 

            If you have never taken one, this is the basic process:  You pee on a stick, and then you set a timer for the exact number of minutes that it is supposed to take to get a result.  This is usually two to three minutes.  Then you leave the bathroom and close the door, because you've promised yourself that you are not going to "peek" until the timer goes off.  About ninety seconds later, you open the bathroom door, because you've decided that maybe you should just peek a little.  Then you close the door behind you, because you are embarrassed; like you're going to get caught doing something wrong.  You proceed to watch the little stick for the next minute and a half.  And then the timer goes off, startling you.  If the result is positive, you keep watching the stick for another five minutes, just to make sure it doesn't disappear.  When it doesn't disappear, you wonder if you should take another test, just to be sure.  I don't know if this is the process that everyone goes through, but that's how it works for me.

            In this case, the result was positive, so I'll spare you the details regarding what you do with a negative result.  I say that the result was positive, but it was a very light pink line.  I showed it to Phil, and he wasn't sure he could see it.  But I knew it was there.

            A few days later, I started spotting, and suddenly I wondered if I'd imagined the pink line, after all.  I quickly made a doctor appointment.  There I was assured that I was, indeed, pregnant, and that everything looked fine, so I should go home, stop worrying, and start taking prenatal vitamins.

            And my whole outlook on life changed.

            The suicidal thoughts completely disappeared.  I had wanted a baby.  I had prayed for a baby.  And there was no way I would even consider taking my life at that point, because another little person was relying on me.  I had to keep living and breathing so that this baby could live, too.  The thought process of a recently suicidal, very hormonal, pregnant woman is probably a little bit messed up, but this new little person became my reason to wake up in the morning for the next few months.  And eventually, it wasn't just about surviving long enough to give birth.  I began to get really excited about sharing life with this baby.  And I began to get very excited about sharing life with the rest of my family.  And I began to get very excited about just living life.  The sense of hope that had once abandoned me had returned.

It's Taken Me All Day...

To determine what I really want to say about this new year.

Or, perhaps, the hard part has been determining what I don't want to say about the old one...

We're still here. 

I am a truth teller... and a realist... and I like who God created me to be.  I haven't arrived yet, and that's OK.

I often think of my Mammaw on New Year's Day and her wise words.  She thought that what we did on January 1st set the tone for the coming year.  I hope she was right, because after ringing in the New Year with friends and then heading home with my wonderful family, I slept in and woke up happy.

If I spend this year snuggling Caleb and Miah while watching home videos, and listening to Grace play the piano, and sneaking pizza with Seth when no one else is looking, and watching Ian race switch and go dinosaurs across the kitchen floor, and hugging my husband; it will be a good year.  I do hope I don't make a habit of putting Seth's cell phone through the washing machine, but, ya know, there's no such thing as a perfect day.

I have a few things yet to do today...

And so, we begin again...

L.

 Start Well... Finish Strong...