A note from my daughter...

Several weeks ago my daughter Olivia absconded with my cell phone.  Upon its return, I discovered the following note:

"Hi, Mom, this is my note to you. You are the most amazing person I've ever met. When I grow up I want to be just like you. You have impacted my life greatly, and I love you for trying so hard to please everybody, even if they don't deserve it. You have been the best mother, role model, and friend I could ever hope or wish for. I thank God for giving me you every day. Love, your daughter Olivia."

There are a number reasons why I cherish this note--the author, the content, the fact that it was written without obligation on an ordinary day.  I don't remember anything about that day, but I know that it wasn't Christmas or my birthday or Mother's Day.  I don't remember if it was a good day or a bad day, but I do remember the way my daughter's note made me feel--loved, admired, and appreciated.

Happy Mother's Day young and old, new and seasoned, past and future...today and every day.

What is God doing, anyway?

A friend asked me this question just last week, and I wasn't quite sure how to answer.  I've been pondering it ever since. To be honest, I rarely feel like I know what God is doing, but I do know that He is doing something. How do I know? Because of my garden.  

Every spring for the last ten years, I have spent a small fortune on seeds and soil, hours preparing and planting, and sometimes weeks watering and waiting, but I always see results...always.  During the watering and waiting time, I have often wondered and even "googled" what the seeds do in the darkness, and the unscientific answer is...stuff...important, necessary, vital stuff. And what does God do while we wait, seemingly in the dark? Stuff. God's the master gardener, remember?  He not only plants the seeds, but makes them grow.

So If you find yourself waiting in the dark, and like me, you aren't quite sure how to answer the big question about what God is doing in your life, just say "stuff", because God is always doing stuff, whether you can see it or not.  And keep watering, watching, and waiting...the growth and the fruit will come!

Ch...Ch...Ch...Changes!

I haven't written since July, and I am not quite sure how to explain why, except to say that A LOT has happened since my last post, and I've been a bit busy trying to keep up with the whirlwind that is my life. Instead of writing an epic tome to bring y'all up to speed, I'll just hit the high points...

In August, I traveled to California to meet my biological father and my grandmother after a 37-year separation. I also met seven of my eight younger siblings on my father's side (six brothers, one sister, with one brother yet to meet).  Talk about life changing...in a good way!

At the beginning of September, I was offered a tech support position with the Lake Washington School District. I accepted, and with the help of some incredible friends, I moved the children and myself across the state. Life changer #2.

At the end of September, my husband returned home after completing a one-year recovery program. Life changer #3.

To say that my life has changed would be a gross understatement, and not just my life, but the lives of my family members--immediate and extended, old and new. I have gone from being a country girl to a city girl (more on that later...), a stay-at-home mom to a working mom, a homeschooling mom to a public school mom, and after a year of being a single mom, I am now a co-parent again. Not only that, but I have gained a whole new family!

I wish I could tell you that all of these changes have gone smoothly. They haven't. But God is good, life is good, and I am blessed beyond measure! 

The Battle

The last couple of weeks have been extremely challenging for my family, and I have had to make some heart-wrenching decisions concerning my "adult" children.  They were failing to launch, and I gave them no choice but to eject.  

It can be extremely challenging to parent when there is a 10-year age gap between the youngest child and the oldest.  My adult children were failing to "filter up" for the sake of their younger siblings, and my minor children were starting to run with the "big dogs".  It was no longer enough to put the big dogs on a leash; I had to kick them out of the kennel for their own good and the good of the family.  

Now that the dust is beginning to settle and everyone is assured of unconditional love and their place in the family, I am finally able to breathe again.  My adult children are spreading their wings and learning to fly, and my minor children seem to be in a little less hurry to grow up.

Sometimes the hard thing is the best thing, even when it feels like your tearing your own heart from your chest.  This battle has been won; God is good, and I am blessed.

Adrift...

I haven't written in a while because life has gotten too painful to write about.  My husband has been breaking some rules at the recovery center for quite some time, and as a result, two months have been added to his program.  (He is, however, still clean.) Meanwhile, I have been dealing with an overwhelming mess of collateral damage stemming from more than two decades of poor choice and unhealthy examples. My family is adrift, and I am discouraged.  I covet your prayers.

Day 250: X-Men

Today I took my husband back over the mountains after a twelve-day visit to celebrate our son's graduation from high school.  How was the visit?  Nothing like either of us expected...

What did I expect?  I suppose I expected a knight in shining armor who would rescue me from the ravages of single-handedly trying to parent seven strong-willed children.

What did he expect?  It seems as though he expected a Martha Stewart meets June Cleaver hybrid complete with spotless house, heels, and gourmet meals.

What did we get?  Cyclops vs. Storm.  The first twenty-four hours were great, but by they time we hit the forty-eight hour mark, we weren't sure we were going to survive our "quality time" together.

What did we learn from the experience? We learned that recovery is a process, and although we are no longer "addict" and "enabler", we have a lot of rebuilding to do as a family and as a couple.  We also learned that expectations can be dangerous -- they are rarely realistic and are seldom ever met.

I can almost guarantee you that I will never be greeting my husband at the end of the day in heels and pearls with a five-course meal and a handcrafted centerpiece on our table, and my husband is not likely to ride up on a white horse wearing chain mail and brandishing a sword any time soon, but that's okay. Cyclops and Storm suit us just fine as long as we remember that we're both X-Men, and WE'RE ON THE SAME TEAM! We're finally figuring out that we'd much rather face the future with each other than against each other, and THAT, my friends, is progress!

Day 195: Months...

I haven't written in a while because, quite frankly, life has gotten too busy/complicated/tedious/uninspiring (pick one) to write about.  For the most part we are mostly/sort of/sometimes (pick one) fine, but sometimes we are fabulous/horrible (you know the drill...pick one).

For the most part, I've stopped counting time in days and weeks, there are just too many.  I now observe time in months -- months that we've been apart, months between visits, months until we will all be together again as a family...except that we never really will.  Two sons are grown, and by the time my husband returns, another will have graduated.  Time has become my enemy -- passing too slowly, or too quickly, but never at my preferred pace.

Who would have thought that the last six month would be more difficult than the first...

Day 127: Dance

I spent the weekend over on the west side with my husband. He had been granted a 48 hour pass, and I was desperate to see him. It had been almost six weeks since our last visit, and difficult weeks at that.

When I arrived at my sister's house on Friday afternoon, my husband was there waiting. As soon as I parked, the kids tumbled out of the vehicle and immediately mauled him. After many hugs and kisses, he managed to untangle himself from the jumble of adolescent arms and legs and came to coax me from the vehicle. I was tired and more than a little overwhelmed -- the trip had been long, and my week had been brutal.

Once inside, I wandered around the house for a bit making small talk with my brother-in-law while my husband unloaded the vehicle. Then I made my way to the guest bedroom. On the edge of the bed I found a note written in my husband's hand. Underneath it was small gift box and beneath the box a CD labeled simply "DANCE".

Tears welled up in my eyes as I read the note. Below is an excerpt:

"Dance is an interesting word.... The two main definitions are to move rhythmically to music and to appear to dazzle, shine, and twinkle. I was surprised by the second meaning. Just recently...I came across Ecclesiastes 3:4. It says there is a "time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance".... The word used in this text not only could mean to physically dance, but I believe it [also] means the latter. God gave me this verse to give to you. You have had times of weeping, times of laughing, times of mourning, and very soon you will have a time to dance."

Inside the box was a dainty silver necklace with the word "Dance" imprinted on the pendant, and on the CD was Lee Ann Womack's "I Hope You Dance".

Oh, how I love that man.

Day 109: Lifelines

I haven't written in a while because, quite frankly, I haven't had much to say. My husband is doing well. The kids and I are doing fine, and life is...okay. We have our good days and our bad days--nothing too exciting, nothing tragic. The crisis has passed, and we are no longer drowning, but I often feel as if I am treading water, and sometimes I am in need of a lifeline.

This morning I received a New Year's card in the mail from a friend who lives on the other side of the state. Tucked behind the adorable photo card of her two young daughters was a short note -- two simple sentences using the words "peace", "inspiration", and "trust" that changed my day. This friend had no way of knowing how discouraged I had been lately, yet her simple note was such a treasure that I tucked it into my purse as a precious reminder that God sees me in the middle of my "meh" and cares enough to meet me in the midst of it. (Thank you, Mel.)

Then this afternoon, while shopping at the local grocery store, I crossed paths with a dear family friend. I happened to be on the phone at the time, but we each smiled and nodded "hi". A few minutes later, after the friend had finished shopping, he came back into the store, sought me out, and with a huge grin on his face said, "Happy New Year!", and handed me $20. Then he turned and walked away, leaving me in the middle of the aisle trying not to burst into tears because of his kindness and generosity. This friend had no way of knowing how challenging things are for us right now financially, yet his kind gift served as a sweet reminder of God's promise of provision. (Thank you, Henry.)

These two incidents may seem like random acts of kindness, but I believe they were orchestrated by a very intentional God who will move heaven and earth (and the people on it) to demonstrate His love toward us. So thank you, my friends, for being the hands of Christ extended. Today I was in need of a lifeline. God sent me two. And because of you, I will be able to tread water a little while longer.

Goodbye 2011

It's been another difficult year. In April, we lost a beloved pet and a beloved uncle. In September, my husband entered a recovery program for the treatment of chemical dependency. But in spite of it all, we have been blessed beyond measure, and we are grateful to God for his goodness to us. 

“Reflect upon your blessings, of which every man has plenty,

not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.”

- Charles Dickens

Day 92: Almost perfect...

In many ways, this Christmas was one of our best ever.  All seven of my children were home.  I managed to get all seven to church with me Christmas morning. We enjoyed several days of food, family, and fun.  And the gifts that were given and received were truly appreciated (a first among so many!).  It was almost perfect, except:

• This was our second Christmas without Poppa, and I still haven't gotten used to seeing others sitting in his big chair.
• This was our first Christmas without Peyo, our beloved Dalmatian, who used to sleep on my side of the bed.  I miss rubbing my feet on his warm body before I climb out of bed on cold winter days.
• This was our first Christmas without Uncle Jack and his big laugh, his big heart, and his crazy, quirky Christmas cards.
• This was our first (and I pray our only) Christmas without my husband.

And in spite of my many, many blessings and all the Christmas cheer, I went to bed Christmas night with a heavy heart, remembering those that I have loved and lost in the past two years and longing desperately for my husband.

Today is the day after Christmas, and I'm still feeling a little melancholy and sad.  I guess I've got the Christmas blues...

Day 85: The Best of Times...The Worst of Times

"It was the best of times; it was the worst of times..." (Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities)

This morning I dropped my husband off at the airport after his first 48-hour visit home. 45 ½ of those hours were the best in our fourteen-year marriage. The last 2 ½ hours were more difficult than the day he left.

This morning when the alarm went off, I felt like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight. At 5 am I sat bold upright in bed, looked at my sleeping husband, and burst into tears at the thought of saying goodbye to him for the 6th time in three months.

Somehow, I managed to regain my composure long enough to get dressed and climb into our vehicle to make the hour and a half trip to the airport. Once there, we both fell apart.

Funny thing about airports—they are simultaneously the happiest and the saddest places on earth.

Saturday went I arrived at the airport I sent our thirteen-year-old son in to get my husband in order to avoid paying for parking. As I waited in our vehicle at the curb, I saw a younger man, probably in his mid to late twenties, emerge from the airport. Before he was able to walk ten feet, a pretty young gal came running to him and threw herself into his arms. As I surreptitiously observed their reunion, I surmised two things—that they had been separated for a very long time and that they loved each other very, very much.

When my husband emerged from the airport, I followed the young gals lead and threw myself into his arms for our own happy reunion. If you ever wish to witness pure, unbridled joy, spend some time in the arrivals area at an airport. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

But today was different, and as I followed my husband into the very same airport that two days prior had hosted our happy reunion, I was assaulted by an entirely different set of emotions. The panic and sadness that I had barely managed to tamp down at 5 am returned with a vengeance and had me in a full nelson before I new what hit me. I clung and I cried, but time was not on our side, and finally I had to turn and walk away from the man I love with tears streaming down my face, not daring to look back…

If you ever want to witness crushing heartbreak, spend some time in the departures area of an airport. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Today was like Day 1 all over again. Tomorrow will be better.

Day 81: Letting Go of Perfection

My husband has been granted a 48-hour pass and will be coming home this weekend for a brief visit.  I wanted everything to be perfect for him when he arrives, but perfection in real life is just as elusive as the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and the clouds with the silver linings.

Does perfection even exist? Does the pot of gold?  Does the silver lining?  I've seen rainbows, and I've seen clouds, but never the pot of gold nor the silver lining...nor perfection.  Perhaps true perfection is to be found simply in the rainbows and the clouds...

My husband is coming home, and that is enough for me.  Our home is much the same as he left it.  I pray that that is enough for him.

Day 68: I've Got Mail

I got a three-page letter from my husband today.  It made me cry.  I love him. I miss him.  And I am oh so proud of him.

Day 66: Grace

As I consider the work that God is doing in our family, I am struck by God's amazing grace, especially when juxtaposed with the work that I had been trying to do in our family, which was a shabby imitation of grace that I have come to recognize as the codependent counterfeit known as enabling.

Grace and enabling can look quite similar on the outside -- appearing to demonstrate love to the unlovable and bless those who deserve it least -- but enabling is foolish, indulgent, and conditional, and in the end, it always leads to bitterness and destruction.

Grace, on the other hand, is as wise as it is extravagant.  It comes with no strings attached. It is never accompanied by resentment, and it always gives life.  It simply says, "Here is the gift.  Do with it what you will." and keeps on loving.

Romans 5:8 reminds us that:

"...while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."

That is grace -- wise, loving, life-giving grace.  No strings...no conditions....no resentment...no enabling.

The gift has been given.  Will we accept?  Will we walk worthy of the gift? And perhaps most importantly, will we extend it to others?

Day 64: A longing fulfilled...

And now, the post you've all been waiting for!  Okay, maybe that's overstating it a bit...  I'm sure you all have lives, but I suspect that some of you may want know how my husband's 24-hour pass went, so read on...

On November 26th my husband officially completed his second month in recovery and was granted a 24-hour pass to leave campus.  The kids and I picked him up almost promptly at 11:00 on Saturday morning, and thus ensued our 24 hour journey from awkward to awesome!

Before I can explain the awesome, I must first address the awkward.  Our last visit just over two weeks ago was no es bueno (not good).  I didn't write about it then because I needed time and space to process it all, but long story short, it is difficult to cultivate a new relationship in a petri dish.  We are not single-celled organisms.  We are a living breathing family of many organisms and trying to connect in a house full of strangers is extremely challenging and stressful, and there is no normal to be found.

I came away from that visit feeling lonely, dejected, and confused, and the next day when my husband called me, I spent most of the conversation crying. He tried to encourage my by reminding me that he was almost due for his 24-hour pass, but to no avail.  I spent the next several days feeling sullen and angry while dreaming wistfully of returning to "Egypt".

As the weekend of the 24-hour pass approach, I learned that the "conjugal" nature of our visit was on more minds than just mine and my husband's, which was, uhm...awkward.  Several people asked if our kids would be with us on the visit and what we were going to do with them so that we could you know... As it turned out, my sister and her husband were going to be out of town, so they gave us a key to their place (leaving their room to us, the guest room to our girls, and the living room to our boys), and told us to have fun playing house...and we did.  Nuff said!  ;-)

In spite of the weekend's occasional first-date-like awkwardness (like not knowing what to talk about at lunch and my husband waking up before 7 am ready to start the day, and me saying uhm no, I'll be staying in bed until 9 am, but you are more than welcome to stay with me...), it was full of so much awesomeness that I came home fairly bursting with joy!  Highlights included, but were not limited to: walking in the rain with my husband...putting dishes away with my husband...cuddling on the couch with my husband (while watching a ridiculous movie with our children)...laughing, talking, and crying into the wee hours of the morning with my husband...conjugal-ness (not a word, I know) with my husband...breakfast at Starbucks with my husband...grocery shopping with my husband.  (You could substitute almost any activity, and if it included with my husband, my heart would sing!)

But the icing on the cake was on Sunday morning...  We had just finished discussing the "proper" time to get out of bed, and I seemed to have won (apparently I hold more allure than coffee or a shower because my husband elected to stay), but like a ninny, I ruined the victory by beginning to fret about a situation involving our oldest son.  My husband rolled over, took my hand in his, and said, "Let's just pray about it.  God will take care of him." "Uhm," ...stunned silence... "okay," was my reply, as I curled into his chest and closed my eyes...

He had me at, "Let's just pray..."

“...a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”  (Proverbs 13:12)

Day 55: Bittersweet...

Today my 13-year-old observed our neighbors hanging their Christmas lights outside, and before I knew it, he was up on our roof attempting to hang ours. This was something that my husband always did, as he fancies himself a bit of a "Clark Griswold", but he will not be here this year to deck our halls. Bitter. My 13-year-old is definitely his father's son, as evidence by his stout-hearted attempt to fill his father's shoes.  Sweet!

Tonight I attended my cousin's wedding -- a wedding that I had originally been asked to sing in, but declined because it fell on one of my husband's visitation days.  My cousin's new husband is in the military, and his orders were recently changed, so the wedding was rescheduled and held a month early, freeing me to attend.  I am so thankful that I stuck with my original decision not to sing because I was far more emotional during the ceremony than I had anticipated. Bitter.  The wedding was beautiful, and my cousin is now married to a kind, caring young man. Sweet!

Day 52: Longing for "Egypt"

During the 40 years in which the Children of Israel wandered in the wilderness, there were times when they longed to return to Egypt.  In Exodus 14:12 with their backs against the Red Sea they said:

"...It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!"

In Exodus 16:3 when they had no food to eat they said:

"...If only we had died by the LORD’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted...."

And in Numbers 20:5 when they had no water to drink they said:

"Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to this terrible place? It has no grain or figs, grapevines or pomegranates. And there is no water to drink!"

In each instance, the children of Israel had grown weary and frightened.  They had no idea where they were going, they had forgotten what they had been delivered from, and all they wanted to do was go home.  The Promise Land seemed vague and mysterious, and crazy as it may seem, they longed for the false-security of their bondage in Egypt.

Confession: As much as I hate to admit it, in the past few days I have found myself longing to return to "Egypt".  I am weary and frightened.  I have no idea where we are going, I can't remember the former chaos that led to this separation, and I just want my old life back.  I don't want to keep trudging through the wilderness and making trips over the mountains every two weeks. The turmoil of our former lives has faded into the background, and I find myself longing for the "good ol' days".  Except that they weren't good, but like the Israelites, I am prone to wander and apt to forget.

And where was God in the midst of the Israelites' short-sighted wandering?  In spite of their fear, their complaints, and their doubt, God parted the Red Sea, rained down manna and quail from heaven, and brought forth water from a rock (on more than one occasion!).  He led them, fed them, protected them, and even blessed them!  Nehemiah recounts it well:

"You divided the sea before them, so that they passed through it on dry ground....  In their hunger you gave them bread from heaven and in their thirst you brought them water from the rock....  Because of your great compassion you did not abandon them in the wilderness. By day the pillar of cloud did not fail to guide them on their path, nor the pillar of fire by night to shine on the way they were to take.  For forty years you sustained them in the wilderness; they lacked nothing, their clothes did not wear out nor did their feet become swollen.  You gave them kingdoms and nations.... You made their children as numerous as the stars in the sky.... They ate to the full and were well-nourished; they reveled in your great goodness."  (Nehemiah 9:11, 15, 19, 21-23, 25 NIV)

And so, in spite of my current struggles, I will stay the course and in time, I believe my longing for "Egypt" will cease.  Until then, I will trust in the God of the Israelites to guide us to our promise land and pray fervently that we don't manage to find a way to turn 1 year into 40!

Day 45: This is not a sprint...

While gearing up for my third trip over the mountains to see my husband this coming weekend, it dawned on me that this is not a sprint; this is a marathon, and I am ill prepared.  I have not trained properly for this race.  I am running at a sprinter's pace, and I am growing weary.

I am a sprinter by nature, both physically and mentally.  Physically, I have bulky, fast-twitch muscle fiber.  I was a jumper and sprinter in high school, and I have never understood the distance mentally.  Jogging irritates me, and as far as I'm concerned, any distance over 200 meters requires a motorized vehicle of some sort or at the very least, a bicycle!

Mentally, I must have fast-twitch grey matter.  Those who know me well will confirm that there is nothing slow about me (except for the way I wake up in the morning...).  I talk fast, I move fast, and I think fast. Several years ago my brother-in-law marveled that in order to talk as fast as I do, my brain had to be working even faster!

Yet in spite of my natural bent toward speed, Ecclesiates 9:11 reminds me that:

"...The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong..."

When life gets overwhelming and challenges arise, God does not call us to be bigger, faster, or stronger.  In fact, in Matthew 11:28-30, God invites us to rest:

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Not only does God invite us to rest, but he invites us to learn -- to train, if you will.  And train, I must, for only He can prepare me to run the race that has been set before me, and this race is definitely not a sprint!

Are you going to be here now?

My father once had an uncle who was developmentally disabled.  He spent most of his life in a group home, and we would visit him from time to time during my youth.  Because of his disability, the things that this uncle said rarely made sense, but he would frequently ask, "Are you going to be here now?"  Such a probing question from one who may never have really understood its depth.

Today I came across the video below.  It was created by a man named Blaine Hogan, and it is simply brilliant.  I encourage you to watch the video and then ask yourself, "Am I going to be here now?"  I pray that the answer is yes.