A Week of Firsts

The first week of September brought many firsts for our little family.  On Tuesday I was blessed by two dear friends.  One of my favorite people here invited me to her home so I could learn their family recipe for making applesauce.  It was my first time making the golden goodness.  This has been something we've talked about doing for a few years, but it's never quite worked out.  So I was amazed by how it all fell into place within a short timeframe.  The previous Friday another favorite friend had come to visit and made it very clear she would like to take my girls for a few hours at some point soon.  Then on Sunday our pastor preached one of those prodding sermons about being a gracious receiver followed by me coming home and noticing the amazing Labor Day sale on quart jars at a local store.  All of the answers had already been spelled out for me by the time I received the invitation on Monday morning.  My friends only live a few houses down from each other so it was very easy to leave my girls for a few hours.

It was such a sweet morning of uninterrupted conversation.  And even though I was still functioning below half speed, it was wonderful to actually complete a project.  It was good for my soul.  My hubby was even happier when I came home with 9 delicious quarts of applesauce.  The girls had such a fantastic time playing with my other friend that Bitty's first words to me were, "No Go."

 

On Wednesday we started another year of homeschooling.  It was Bella's 1st First Day of School.  She did incredibly well.  Our girls all have summer birthdays, and we always have to make the tough decision as to whether they'll be the youngest or oldest in their classes.  I had considered starting her in Kindergarten last year, but her distinctively longer attention span this past week let me know we made the right decision.

She was a little surprised when I wouldn't just let her run to the bathroom right in the middle of reading time, but otherwise the day went very smoothly. 

 

The first day of school looked a little different here this year.  My tendency has always been to not to approach anything if I don't have a definite plan of attack.  More often than not, this attitude has led to great procrastination on my part.  Since I was off my feet the two weeks prior to school starting I wasn't quite as prepared as I would have liked.  In the past I probably would have delayed things by a few more days, but in the last couple years I've learned to tackle things a little at a time and when I have time.  Since we had plenty of time, I decided to put the girls to work.

Their first lesson involved how to read a shipping label and how to check a packing slip.  Bella unpacked books and Boo checked them off the list.  They had fun, and a tedious task was taken care of in record time.  My husband who was slightly skeptical if I'd actually get things rolling that day literally laughed out loud when I told him about the morning's first lesson.  We went on to complete all of our first day's reading and some worksheets as well.

Little sister, who was slightly lost with her buddy Bella in school, was happy to join in on the worksheet fun.

 

Thursday brought a big first for Bitty.  She spent her first night in her own big girl bed.  It was my first attempt at spray painting something, and it doesn't look too bad from a distance.

Every time I see a photo like this one taken of my oldest in August, I'm reminded that she's growing up way quicker than I expected or wanted.  On Saturday she went to a youth group Bible study with a friend at another church in town.  I probably would have been nervous, but the group was led by a trusted friend.  And my sweet friend knew me so well that she even texted me a picture of the girls enjoying some Slip n Slide time after their talk on prayer.

The last big first of the week was Sophie's first trip to the local county fair.  We've been out of town the last few years at fair time so the girls were thrilled when we took them to the land of farm animals, greasy food, and carnival rides this past Sunday.  Here's a picture as we entered the fairgrounds.  The kids always seem to gravitate to this cow statue.  More fair pics to follow later.

This week we'll add in more big first days of soccer practice and music lessons.

 

Ecclesiastes 3:1 To everything there is a season,

A time for every purpose under heaven.

Gifts

Someone back home was kind enough to send me the flowers pictured in the last post.  After I quit laughing at my older girls who were gushing over how nice it was of the FedEx man to bring them to me, my pragmatic side kicked right in.  Before I even opened the box or read the card, my first thought was why anyone would waste their money on “something that was just going to die.”  And then I heard a still small voice whisper, “Enjoy the Gift.”

 

So that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do.  I can’t tell you how many times those roses have made me smile this week.  Every day they unfold a little more and I find myself captivated with how they look from this angle (or that one too).  I’ve found myself picking up my camera numerous times because I wanted to remember a bloom exactly as it was at that particular moment.

 

 

And every time I’ve found myself in one of those moments, I’ve pondered what it means to “Enjoy the Gift.”  I think it’s a lesson that directly applies to my life.  Even before we had children of our own, I had seen enough of life to realize that family planning isn’t as cut and dry as one would think.  I had friends that had unexpectedly become pregnant in a very inconvenient season of life and I had others who struggled with infertility.  I quickly realized that we don’t have as much control as we often think we do in these matters.  So I entered into the realm of parenthood with a distinct appreciation that children were a gift.  And even though it’s happened five times now, I’m always a little surprised when that little stick confirms that we are indeed pregnant.

 

Our Sweet Catelyn

Since I lost Catelyn three and half years ago, my biggest frustration has been how to remember My Gift.  Although no one has actually verbalized the sentiment, I’ve often felt like others are wondering when I’m going to get over it.  I feel like people look at me with a sympathy that conveys that my life would be better if I could just move past the pain.  When one miscarries a pregnancy, I think others only remember that agony they felt when they found out the news.  When I remember Catelyn in particular, I think of so much more.  The other innate problem with losing an unborn child is that nobody else has had the opportunity to build a relationship with that tiny person.  In some ways it has felt like I’ve lost an imaginary friend, and yet there was nothing make believe about her.  She was really here.  Amazingly enough, Catelyn’s pregnancy was my most vibrant.  She made her presence known.  I felt her move.  I laughed over her antics.  I prayed for her.  I loved her.  And I didn’t need an ultrasound to confirm when she was gone.  I knew.

 

Our Other Precious Gifts

 

Although we tend to think there is supposed to be a natural order of children burying parents in old age, none of us is guaranteed any length of days.  I truly believe the value of a life cannot be determined by marks on a calendar.  We live in a world where bad things happen.  And just as I had a decision to make about my flowers that were “just going to die,” each of us has a decision to make about how we’re going to enjoy our gifts.  All I know to do is make the most of the time I have with the ones I love most.  And despite what anyone might think, I’m going to remember the gifts I’ve lost because God gave them to me for a reason.  I still don’t know what He had in mind with this last little babe, but I know He used Catelyn to change me for the better.  He needed to work in my life and even beforehand He knew it was going to hurt.  So He gave me a gift, one that was a precious reminder that He loved me when nothing else made sense.  I try hard to seek calm when interacting with others, but I don’t want to have to hide my gift in the shadows because it might make people uncomfortable.  I want to remember her and hold tight to the many sweet memories, because I wouldn’t be the person I am today without her.

James 1:17 ~ Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above…

More Okay Than Not

Thank you!!!  I don’t think I can accurately describe how much your sweet notes of encouragement have meant to me.  Just being able to put words to the events and emotions of the past two weeks was like a breath of fresh air or a weight being lifted off of my chest.  Thank you for caring, thank you for reminding me that I’m not alone (I forget this frequently ~ slow learner here), and thank you for letting me be honest.

 

That honesty thing is like a tightrope walking act, at least for me.  Even now, a part of me is concerned that I have caused others to worry.  I want to be real, but so many factors make that difficult.  In no way, shape, or form do I want to air out dirty laundry that would cause other people to be hurt.  In trying to be sensitive to those closest to me I sometimes feel like I give off the wrong impression of having things more together than I really do.  Bad things happen here too and sometimes life is exhausting.

 

Living with things that can’t or shouldn’t be talked about is almost unbearable.  I honestly believe that it’s one of Satan’s most overused tools.  Once we feel isolated and alone, we become incredibly easy to defeat.  We’re like sitting ducks once we believe that “nobody else could possibly understand” or even worse yet in the church, “real Christians couldn’t possibly struggle with this.”  Part of the reason I wrote the last post was that I spent months feeling lonely and discouraged after I lost our third daughter just 10 weeks before delivery.  There is much more to her story, but I knew I didn’t want to walk that road again.

 

Like I mentioned before, I also needed people to understand.  I needed them to understand why I hadn’t found time for our usual phone calls, or why I skipped out of church so early my first Sunday back, or why I wasn’t volunteering to help out with different functions.  Simply uttering the words “I’m sick” just didn’t seem to suffice when I felt like I was dropping the ball left and right.

 

For those who are still concerned about how I’m doing, I can honestly say I’m okay.  I had to reach some level of togetherness before I was even able to write the last post.  I’m not just trying to sugarcoat things.  The past week was truly one of my worst in recent years, but I’m not there anymore.  I guess that’s the good thing about putting one foot in front of the other; it’s impossible to stay put, no matter how slow it takes to move forward.

 

To be more specific, I think the actual process of waiting for and then enduring this miscarriage has been way harder physically than emotionally for me.  There was definitely an emotional component that seemed magnified by weak physical health, but having lost Catelyn gave me a perspective that's different than most.  When I was pregnant with her I was given a very up close and personal look at what having a child with disabilities would look like.  We spent hours upon hours analyzing, discussing, and preparing for her birth and then subsequent treatments and surgeries.  We were ready to whole-heartedly embrace her needs, but the thing that scared me most was how I was going to adequately also care for the two children I already had.  So while I’m sad to have lost this little person that I eagerly read development updates about each week, I have peace that this was not meant to be.  Contentment doesn’t always mean having things exactly as hoped for or planned.  For now I’ll rest in the knowledge that the One who holds the future has never left me or forsaken me.

 

Romans 8:37-39 ~ Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Not Fine

“She’ll be fine.”  Those words, when recently uttered in reference to one of my girls, were enough to send me into an emotional tailspin.  The truth was my daughter was sobbing and not fine, but the chord that was struck resonated deep within my own soul.  Living 2000 miles away from all of our family makes it incredibly easy for people to assume that my life only consists of the happy moments reflected in the pictures posted on social networking sites.

 

I’m not sure if my family even realizes that my natural bend is to be an introvert.  I can think of many times in life when the task of upholding my end of a conversation seemed nothing less than hard work.  I also stink at accepting compliments, encouragement and, as I’m realizing this week, sympathy.  I truly struggle with how to juggle those sentiments when they are tossed my direction.  It can be plain stressful.  I've often felt the need to encourage the other person when I’ve had to relay bad news of my own.  The option of remaining quiet and placing one foot in front of the other simply seems easier.  The end result is a false impression by some that I’m strong or that life’s bumps and bruises somehow don’t hurt me as much.

 

The real kink in my plan is that while it’s easier to verbally keep mum, my emotions tend to dance across my face like characters on a stage.  More often than not, my expressions can be read like an open book.  What’s a girl to do?  Well, this one tends to lay low, keep conversations short, and let everyone else assume that I’m busy.  It’s an incredibly lonely predicament.  After examining the situation backwards and forwards, I think I’ve finally figured out what I desire most.  I WANT TO BE UNDERSTOOD.  I don’t need to hear the words, “I’m sorry.”  I don’t need someone to jump on a plane and come take care of me.  I just want people to realize that my life isn’t always easy; sometimes it’s just plain hard.  I want them to understand that sometimes the very little amounts of my time are all I have to offer.  I want them to understand that I’m doing the best I can.

One look in the mirror accurately reveals the transformation that’s occurred over the past two weeks.  Just 17 days ago group photos with our families captured a glow of happiness and my yet to be announced pregnancy.  Now the reflection in the mirror is weak and pale, which my doctor confirmed is a result of the substantial blood loss during my miscarriage ten days later.  All I’ve been able to convey to my family and most of those around me is that I’ve been sick.  There never seems to be a good time to interject the truth into our conversations.  Very few know what's transpired the last two weeks; most that do were out of necessity.  I suspect some will be hurt at the notion that I couldn't or didn't confide in them when in reality my silence has nothing to do with how I feel about anybody.  These types of discussions just consume time and energy that I don't have at the moment.  The truth is I’m drained.  Returning home from a 5,000 mile, 4 week road trip right before this happened hasn't helped much either.  So for now, I’m taking my vitamins.  I’m resting when I can.  I'm drinking a little more caffeine than normal.  (I also get cold more easily and I'm dropping things left and right.)  I’m missing adult meetings and opting for those that benefit my kids (who still don’t know why mom’s been so sick).  I’m placing one foot in front of the other, but please don’t assume I’m strong.  I’m merely doing what has to be done because I have no other choice.  In the depths of my soul I recognize that even this was filtered through the hands of my loving Savior.  I know I will be fine another day, but for now I’m simply tired.

Spring Cleaning

Now that spring has finally sprung in our little corner of the world, I took the first available opportunity to vacuum out the van.  The combination of three little bears and a lengthy road trip at Christmas time has not been kind to the interior of my trusty steed.

 

Similarly I’ve been feeling the need to do an emotional “spring clean.”  Over the long winter months, I’ve found myself packing up baggage that I thought was neatly stored away.  It’s starting to affect my gas mileage.  I’m slowing down.  I’m tired and worn out.  I wonder if I’m ever going to learn the lessons that I previously believed I mastered.  I question myself, I question others’ affections, and ultimately I question my worth.

As I crawled in between seats, vacuuming up crumbs and gathering up miscellaneous snack wrappers, I found a penny.  It was worn and corroded.  A sticky substance lined one side.  Keeping focused on my goal of a clean and de-cluttered vehicle, I simply tossed it into the trash can.  And then as I turned back around toward my van I was struck by the thought of whom was I to decide that penny’s worth.

 

The value of a penny, a dollar, or any other denomination of currency is assigned solely by its creator.  I could have taken that sticky, corroded penny to any bank and it would not have been worth any more or less than a nice shiny new one.

As I discussed my weary state with a friend yesterday, I actually admitted that I knew what I needed to do.  The only thing holding me back was that it required being “a little more Christ-like than I cared to be at the moment.”  It’s so easy to justify this behavior when I’ve convinced myself that my worth is tied in to other people’s opinions of me, or that my value is determined by how I’ve been treated.  I cannot tell you the numbers of times in the last month alone that I’ve had the mental dialogue that my worth is based on my performance.  And the truth is that I’m tired of performing.  It’s simply easier to pull away from those who’ve hurt me.

But the scriptures tell us that each one of us is created in the image of God.

Genesis 1:27

So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him;

male and female He created them.

We are fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Nothing that happens to us is hidden from Him or surprises Him.

Psalm 139: 13-16

For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother’s womb.
I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.

And that God loves us so much that He allowed His one and only son to die on the cross as payment for our sins so that we would not have to spend eternity separated from Him.

Romans 5:6-8

For when we were still without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly.  For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die.  But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

He loves us and wants us to love others.

John 13:35

By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.

And that’s impossible to do if we don’t recognize that only our Creator determines our value.  He created us with unique gifts and skills.  He can use all that we offer Him, both good and bad, to accomplish His good purposes.  No one else, our own actions, or any other life event can change our value.  Not only do we have worth, but the God of the Universe loves us fiercely.  And that changes everything.

Romans 8:31-35, 37-39

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?  He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?  Who shall bring a charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies.  Who is he who condemns? It is Christ who died, and furthermore is also risen, who is even at the right hand of God, who also makes intercession for us.  Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?

 

Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Dishcloth Dolls

When I started homeschooling, I had all kinds of ideas about how I wanted to teach my children.  One of my primary goals was to make real life applications from what they were studying.  I don’t want my girls to think that learning only occurrs behind a desk.

 

Let’s fast forward to now, the end of Boo’s second grade year.  Ever since we extended our trip home this past fall, we’ve been playing catch up in terms of schoolwork.  While we made a point to have the girls do worksheets and took them on several educational field trips during that visit, I really, really want to finish the curriculum that we’d previously purchased.  So we’ve been doubling up as we can over the last several months and it hasn’t left a lot of time or energy for extra projects.

It's probably going to sound silly, but I finally found an opportunity for a quick and easy project while we were reading this book.

The book takes place during the early 1900’s in Florida and chronicles two families trying to make a living in the brutal backwoods environment.

At one point early on, the book mentions how one of the older girls made dishcloth dolls for some of the younger ones.  Remembering a handkerchief doll my own grandma gave to me many years ago, I decided we could try making some ourselves.

I searched the internet, but the few patterns that I did stumble across were too intricate.  I wanted to make something close to the dolls illustrated in the pages above.  I wanted the girls to realize that children just over a hundred years ago found other things to occupy themselves than the mounds of plastic toys that have infiltrated our own home.

 

Although I tend to be a pattern follower myself, we decided to wing it.  Armed with just dishtowels, elastic hair bands, and some ribbon, this is what we were able to create.

 

 

Simple, fun, and easily accomplished during Bitty's naptime.

 

 

Based on the smiles, I think it was a success.

 

The Solid Rock

 

Last week was tough.  It started with one friend being diagnosed with cancer and ended with another set of friends losing their sweet baby girl halfway through their pregnancy.  Life just seemed hard everywhere I turned.  Marriages struggle, jobs falter, and children stumble.  So much suffering makes my mind start to spin.  Ironically, it was our friends battling cancer that provided some much needed encouragement.  As they tried to wrap their brains around this new normal, the wife posted the words to the hymn, The Solid Rock.

1.)    My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.  I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

Chorus:  On Christ the solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.  All other ground is sinking sand.

2.)     When darkness seems to hide His face, I rest on His unchanging grace.  In every high and stormy gale, my anchor holds within the veil.

3.)    His oath, His covenant, His blood, support in the whelming flood.  When all around my soul gives way, He then is all my Hope and Stay.

4.)    When He shall come with trumpet sound, O may I then in Him be found!  Dressed in His righteousness alone, faultless to stand before the throne.

And another often unprinted verse

5.)    I trust His righteous character, His council, promise, and His power; His honor and His Name’s at stake to save me from the burning lake.

When nothing seemed to make sense, I often found myself singing, “My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.”  And in those moments, I consciously remembered that “all other ground is sinking sand.”  I might not always know the next step to take, but I’m grateful for the reminder of where to plant my feet.

Romans 5:1-5

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.  And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character;

and character, hope. 

 

Now hope does not disappoint,

because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the

Holy Spirit who was given to us.