***Number one, stop whatever you are doing and TAKE THE SIZE STICKER OFF YOUR NEW PANTS. Granted, it's a blessing it is the size of your 22 year old self and not your 35 year old, but still. It's going to be an embarrassing moment when the sweet tenth grade girl in your THIRD PERIOD CLASS whispers to you that it's still there.
Now.
Take a moment and breathe. It's times like these that one of your favorite quotations later in life would have really come in handy.
"I am not afraid. I was born for this." ~Joan of Arc
Yes. I know that you are terrified beyond what should be the human limits of terror. I know that you aren't a public speaker and you never intended to teach and your teeth are itching and your stomach is rolling and your heart is exploding. But you know what? You were born for this. God called you straight into this profession and He would never put you in a place without also giving you the grace and strength to handle it. (This is certainly NOT the time to tell you that these feelings of fear remain, even 13 years in, although they become more bearable. The first day might continue to scare you for your entire career!) But honestly... you've got this. These are your people and this is your place and this is your stuff. Let the fear invigorate you and drive you, but don't let it overcome you.
Be willing to accept help. You are in the luckiest position on all the earth because the people you are teaching with are not only the best of the best, they are YOUR best. You get to work with and be mentored by so many of those who taught you and you are so stinking blessed. They are invaluable resources to you and no one expects you to have all the answers in the beginning. Ask them for help. Let them guide you.
Choose your company carefully. It might sound terrible to say aloud (in blog form), but schools (and let's be honest, MOST jobs) are really just life-size versions of "Survivor". There is an aspect of just "playing the game" and you might have to bite your tongue at times and be friendlier than you might feel and make alliances with people you wouldn't otherwise have chosen. That's part of being an adult. Stand up for yourself but be careful not to thoughtlessly step on others.
You know that old "Don't smile till Christmas" cliche? It's RIDICULOUS. Here's the thing about you (and probably all teachers, otherwise they would be making more money doing something else): You are a people person. You THRIVE on relationship. The only way you are going to be the teacher God called you to be and get the pleasure He intends for you to get from this job is to connect with your students. More importantly than taking pleasure in your work, you are here for them. There will be kids in your classes who need a gentle disciplinarian... provide that structure. There will be kids in your classes who need a friend... walk beside them. There will be kids who need the love of a mother.... be that mother, even though you aren't sure how that looks quite yet (and don't worry, eventually you will become a better teacher just by being a mother-- and vice-versa). There will be kids who need inspiration... open their eyes to the possibility. There will be some who need a kick in the pants... deliver that kick with care. There will be some who need food, clothing, money to pay a locksmith (took 13 years, but it happened)... hand those over. There will be some who need guidance and motivation and drive and a listening ear and a loving heart and a challenging mind... extend those things. You are all some of these kids have... the only person in their lives who can show them care and concern. It's on you. And there will be days and nights that it feels like an awfully heavy burden, one you didn't ask to bear. Stand strong for them, because it's so so so so worth it.
Keep learning! I know that you just finished your Master's and the thought of this makes you nauseous, but the best teachers are the best students. You don't have to get further formal education, but read and study and dig. Your students will benefit and you will enjoy your time so much more. Push yourself to new challenges and new levels.
Get involved. The absolute best way to gain ownership in a school is to serve it. Sponsor clubs, volunteer to teach elective classes, serve on committees... Don't sit around and talk about the things you WISH your school was-- get out there and do what you can to make it the school you want, the very best version of itself.
Have fun! YOU GET TO BE A RAIDER! It's all you've ever been and all you've ever wanted to be. Go to the games, get into the pep rallies, tap your foot along with the band, clap for the plays, decorate for the proms (CHECK.), buy the tshirts, sway with the choir, be dazzled by the art, have Cosmetology do your nails... Being a high school teacher has to be the most fun profession in life. Embrace it!
It's your day. You've had the best examples and you are going to bring some new things to the field too! So try to push the fears down tonight and get plenty of sleep because the ride of your life is about to start.
Buckle up, but don't forget to throw your hands up on the hills...
Just Look...
Monday, August 5, 2013
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Three Snapshots
I said these things at church tonight but I wanted to remember what I said, so I'm going to just add it here.
These are just three little snapshots that sort of stopped me in my tracks on the trip.
When we were in the school, all dark and crowded and hot with all 2233453 kids (it seemed) and basically NO ONE who spoke English (including the translators, it seemed), I was feeling pretty overwhelmed as I walked past one of the small groups, the music one. They were singing in Khmer so I couldn't understand any of it except one word: "Jesus". When they got to that word, for some reason, they sang it in English. And it really made me stop and think that no matter what the language barrers are, no matter how many different cultures are present in the world, we are all united in His name. Our common thread is Him and the love He desires to share with His people.
Our second location, Siem Reap, was extremely interesting. We were at an orphanage that had a real standing in the village. The village children attended the camp and the orphanage personnel explained to us that they reach out to the village children for a feeding program they do three times a week and a weekly service, as well as just allowing the children to come and go and play on the grounds. It is apparent from just being there a few minutes how entrenched the orphanage is in the community. The director told us that the villagers refer to the orphanage as the "Jesus House". The moment he said that, I immediately thought, "That's us! That's exactly what we are called to be! I'm to be the Jesus House to people. Our church should be the Jesus House in Cleveland!" Our pastor had mentioned three weeks ago (and again today) that our question should be, "If SCCOG were absent in this community, would our presence be missed?" That's exactly the point. Matt even told us a story about a night when something was on fire and it looked like it was the orphanage. The villagers ALL came out with a bucket, ready to put the fire out at "Jesus House". Wow. What a testament.
Last of all, it should come as no surprise to anyone who has ever talked to me, I teach about the Holocaust. I have studied the topic (and genocide) for over fifteen years. But for the very first time, I see it in a different sort of way. My theory on Holocaust education has always been that you educate the young in order to prevent it. I still see it this way, but I have been completely blown away by the fact that these genocides? They look the same. The accounts I read of the things that happened to Pol Pot's Cambodia could have been taken from the pages of the books my students read in Holocaust Lit. It doesn't matter if it's 1940's Poland, Austria, Hungary, Germany or 1970's Cambodia or today's Darfur and DRC... the face of evil looks the same. It does the same things. It has the same purpose. And you know the only way to counteract that kind of evil in the world? With the love of Jesus Christ. I had never made the connection between evangelism and genocide. I felt a responsibility to work for human rights in the world but, for some strange reason, I had never considered that a burden for Gospel to be shared with the world is going to be more effective against future genocides than anything else. When people love their fellow man with His love, they are unable to destroy families and murder children and rape women and imprison youth and decimate populations.
I'm sure more will come over time, but these three little snapshots are what I chose to share tonight with our church.
Simple Math
I remember when I was pregnant with Kelsey and I was an emotional wreck. Emma was not even two yet and she was just such a baby to me that it seemed like a complete betrayal of her to be birthing another child. I felt so guilty about what a new baby would do to her world and the ways she was going to suffer. I also worried terribly about the new baby because I was certain that she would always be in second place because there was simply NO WAY I could love anyone else the way I loved Emma. I didn't see that there could be enough love in me to divide by two.
I also remember the very first moment I looked into Kelsey's (angry) (screaming) face and how quickly my fears about not loving her enough vanished because I couldn't imagine life without her from that moment on. Then my precious 22-month-old came in to see her baby sister and oh how my heart was full... No love was divided. As any parent of more than one child knows, it multiplies.
I started my summer of 2013 in my very favorite place on earth with my favorite people, serving my favorite cause-- Royal Family Kids' Camp. I've loved this ministry as long as I have loved Kraig. :) I've grown up with this ministry. And though the faces of the kids change somewhat each year, RFKC is my first-born. It's my heart.
As the summer wore on and we planned for our Cambodia trip, raised money, practiced (my first) stick drama, I'll honestly admit that I felt a little torn. I never doubted that I was meant to go but it's like my heart wasn't fully opened to the work God wanted to use us to do. I didn't see it this way at the time, but I think I was worried about the way my heart would respond to this new baby.
That distance lasted exactly a fraction of a second upon arrival at the first orphanage in Phnom Pehn. As soon as the first dark-haired beauty, sweet Rebekah, threw her arms around my waist, it vanished. I fell in love as deeply with those beautiful brown-skinned babies as if I had known them their entire lives. One smile gave way to dozens more and their easy acceptance of us was so beautiful.
This afternoon, I've been trying to make space on my computer for my trip pictures. Because I am always scared to delete things (even when they are burned to a hard drive), I finally had to sort my Royal Family pictures (all almost 6,000 of them) to download these new photos. As I have sat here and gone through the pictures from my first week of summer in order to make room for the pictures from my last week of summer, my heart is so full. I remember the awe I felt seeing B's face light up at Penelope's antics and the joy at the way H got off the bus so timidly and was hugging and holding by the end of the week and the sweetness with which A crafted a plan to make Royal Family last TWO weeks instead of one and the delight in reading the letter D sent to the church in the weeks after camp about how much he loves us and remembers us.
See, loving kids across the world doesn't take a thing away from the love I have for the ones across town. Love just multiplies!
I'm so grateful to God for allowing me to take part in these two ministries and for the heart He has for children. I hear (and read) discussion at times (often even from pulpits and on high profile Christian blogs and websites) that seems to indicate that international mission work somehow detracts from domestic or even that people should feel guilty for "getting on a plane to go across the world when there are people who need us right here in the United States". You know what's awesome about your hands and feet and heart? You aren't limited by anything but yourself. Want to work with foster kids in your own city? You can. Want to serve the poor in a neighboring state? You can. Want to get on a plane and present the Gospel to 300+ kids in a dark, hot school across the world? You can. Want to take purses and paper dolls to orphans in Cambodia? You can. God's love (and therefore OUR love) is not divided when we take part in multiple ministries and work for Him in various arenas... it multiplies.
So I officially end summer tonight with a whole new prayer list and a whole new treasure of memories and a whole new group of children who share my heart with those from Royal Family. And what a glorious blessing it is...
I also remember the very first moment I looked into Kelsey's (angry) (screaming) face and how quickly my fears about not loving her enough vanished because I couldn't imagine life without her from that moment on. Then my precious 22-month-old came in to see her baby sister and oh how my heart was full... No love was divided. As any parent of more than one child knows, it multiplies.
I started my summer of 2013 in my very favorite place on earth with my favorite people, serving my favorite cause-- Royal Family Kids' Camp. I've loved this ministry as long as I have loved Kraig. :) I've grown up with this ministry. And though the faces of the kids change somewhat each year, RFKC is my first-born. It's my heart.
As the summer wore on and we planned for our Cambodia trip, raised money, practiced (my first) stick drama, I'll honestly admit that I felt a little torn. I never doubted that I was meant to go but it's like my heart wasn't fully opened to the work God wanted to use us to do. I didn't see it this way at the time, but I think I was worried about the way my heart would respond to this new baby.
That distance lasted exactly a fraction of a second upon arrival at the first orphanage in Phnom Pehn. As soon as the first dark-haired beauty, sweet Rebekah, threw her arms around my waist, it vanished. I fell in love as deeply with those beautiful brown-skinned babies as if I had known them their entire lives. One smile gave way to dozens more and their easy acceptance of us was so beautiful.
This afternoon, I've been trying to make space on my computer for my trip pictures. Because I am always scared to delete things (even when they are burned to a hard drive), I finally had to sort my Royal Family pictures (all almost 6,000 of them) to download these new photos. As I have sat here and gone through the pictures from my first week of summer in order to make room for the pictures from my last week of summer, my heart is so full. I remember the awe I felt seeing B's face light up at Penelope's antics and the joy at the way H got off the bus so timidly and was hugging and holding by the end of the week and the sweetness with which A crafted a plan to make Royal Family last TWO weeks instead of one and the delight in reading the letter D sent to the church in the weeks after camp about how much he loves us and remembers us.
See, loving kids across the world doesn't take a thing away from the love I have for the ones across town. Love just multiplies!
I'm so grateful to God for allowing me to take part in these two ministries and for the heart He has for children. I hear (and read) discussion at times (often even from pulpits and on high profile Christian blogs and websites) that seems to indicate that international mission work somehow detracts from domestic or even that people should feel guilty for "getting on a plane to go across the world when there are people who need us right here in the United States". You know what's awesome about your hands and feet and heart? You aren't limited by anything but yourself. Want to work with foster kids in your own city? You can. Want to serve the poor in a neighboring state? You can. Want to get on a plane and present the Gospel to 300+ kids in a dark, hot school across the world? You can. Want to take purses and paper dolls to orphans in Cambodia? You can. God's love (and therefore OUR love) is not divided when we take part in multiple ministries and work for Him in various arenas... it multiplies.
So I officially end summer tonight with a whole new prayer list and a whole new treasure of memories and a whole new group of children who share my heart with those from Royal Family. And what a glorious blessing it is...
Friday, August 2, 2013
Because I Can't Find Words...
I didn't write while I was gone. I intended to, but various circumstances prevented it. I have intended to write every day since I've been home. I took some notes for posts while we were there and I hope to write those at some point, but I can't seem to make myself do it right now. I'm still mulling it all over... Still coming home... Still wrestling with why my home looks so different from theirs... Still trying to figure out what my life is going to look like now... Still finding the words to tell my ten year old why I can't bring myself to spend $28 on the personalized zipper binder from Land's End that she had picked out before I left... Still feeling overwhelmed and soul-weary and still tearing up every time I try to pray, even if it's just a simple prayer for a meal... For now, I'll give you some of what I believe to be the most powerful anonymous images from the trip and let the pictures speak for themselves...
Saturday, July 20, 2013
So, So Grateful... Blessed Beyond Measure
I'm kind of big on pre and post reflection. And mid. I think I'm just big on reflection, now that I think about it. ;) Anyway, I can't let this eve of our trip pass without saying some big thank you's and giving God the glory He's due.
I think I can be most succinct if I do it in list-form. I may or may not have an issue with wordiness. [Post-script: I laughed when I went back and reread and got to this part. Apparently I can also be wordy in list-form. ;)]
1. The Leadership/Planning
There is not a single soul in this world for whom I have any more respect than our missions pastor, Lance Colkmire. He is a man with the power of discernment and a direct line to the Lord, in my opinion. He was approached about doing this trip and these kids' camps because he is the best of the best. It was just a direct move of the Lord that at the same time Lance was talking to PCL, the Lord was calling me to go somewhere. Then my HLit kiddos teamed with PCL for their 5K, raising money for the very village I will see! It was all orchestrated by a Master Conductor.
2. The Team
There is a large whole group going, most of whom I don't know yet. But the four gals from South Cleveland would be my pick for ANY ministry. I have worked with three of them at Royal Family for years and I know their heart for kids and His work. It almost feels wrong to be as excited as I am to spend a week with these girls because aren't you supposed to suffer for Jesus on mission trips? ;) I think I am going to be having a BALL.
3. The Location
I've already referenced the 5K and People for Care and Learning's Build a City. It baffles me to this day to look back and see the way the pieces fell into place over the past year for tomorrow. To be 100% truthful, I never ever envisioned myself on a trip to Asia. I hope this doesn't sound as terrible as I fear it's going to, but I've never had a particular burden on my heart for the people of that continent. I have always had such a deep and burning love for Latin American countries and people and have always assumed that's where my first adult mission trip would take place. But oh... my heart is already so very drawn to these people. I am so in love with the work PCL is doing over there and I haven't even seen it yet!
4. The Support
If I start naming, I'll mess up, so I'm going to speak in broad terms. We had three major fundraisers for this trip and the support of our church family (and others) has been ridiculous. We took a special offering and had a yard sale and bake sale. People gave so much to these events. For those who donated yard sale items, gave in the offering, brought us donuts or breakfast or lunch, sold lemonade at our yard sale (Emma and Kelsey, that's you!), made brownies to sell, brought a sweet for our dessert auction last Sunday, BOUGHT a sweet treat from our dessert auction... We thank you more than we can say. People came out of the woodwork (and had me steal them at a family vacation to cut clothes) to work on the paper doll project, a brainstorm of Beth's. My grandmother gave me a bunch of little purses she has worked on this week to take to the little girls.
For me personally, the number of precious text messages, voicemails, and fb contact from so many people in my life has been simply staggering. I'm just going to say, it is a bold Christian teenager who will send a text message to a teacher describing in vivid detail exactly what prayers are going up for her this week. I got the kindest word from my principal and fb messages from parents of students. My friends near and far, new and old, have left me voicemails (got it, JP!) and texts and fb posts. I wrote a whole post about Mayfield, but the number of people from my kids' school who have offered support on this endeavor has been insane. My grandparents called me tonight to pray for me over the phone before I leave. I am blown away by the love of my people.
5. The Finances
I hate to talk about money but I feel like I can't let it pass without issuing a public thank you (you will get a personal card) and also giving God the glory He is due. This trip cost $3000. People donated $2895 of mine. The donations came from some I sent letters to and most whom I did not. My very first donation was from one of my oldest friends and he handed it to me when I had barely even mentioned going on a trip. My last came from a friend who lives across the US and whom I have not seen in person since my first year of college. I, through little to no effort or advertising, got 24 orders for seat belt pillows in a month that paid for the rest. I so appreciate those who had me craft things for them or plan their parties in exchange for a trip donation. God is just amazing. That's all there is to it.
I am so BLESSED. Plain and simple. I have told Kraig a hundred times over the past nine months that I am surrounded by the biggest-hearted, most loving, most Christ-like, BEST friends and family a person could ever, ever have. Please remember us this week. Please pray for our team and the kids we will come into contact with, for seeds to be sown. Pray for safety and provision for us over the next ten days. Pray for protection over the families we leave behind and for peace of mind as we leave them (that's mostly for me, I'm pretty sure). ;) Thank you!
I think I can be most succinct if I do it in list-form. I may or may not have an issue with wordiness. [Post-script: I laughed when I went back and reread and got to this part. Apparently I can also be wordy in list-form. ;)]
1. The Leadership/Planning
There is not a single soul in this world for whom I have any more respect than our missions pastor, Lance Colkmire. He is a man with the power of discernment and a direct line to the Lord, in my opinion. He was approached about doing this trip and these kids' camps because he is the best of the best. It was just a direct move of the Lord that at the same time Lance was talking to PCL, the Lord was calling me to go somewhere. Then my HLit kiddos teamed with PCL for their 5K, raising money for the very village I will see! It was all orchestrated by a Master Conductor.
2. The Team
There is a large whole group going, most of whom I don't know yet. But the four gals from South Cleveland would be my pick for ANY ministry. I have worked with three of them at Royal Family for years and I know their heart for kids and His work. It almost feels wrong to be as excited as I am to spend a week with these girls because aren't you supposed to suffer for Jesus on mission trips? ;) I think I am going to be having a BALL.
3. The Location
I've already referenced the 5K and People for Care and Learning's Build a City. It baffles me to this day to look back and see the way the pieces fell into place over the past year for tomorrow. To be 100% truthful, I never ever envisioned myself on a trip to Asia. I hope this doesn't sound as terrible as I fear it's going to, but I've never had a particular burden on my heart for the people of that continent. I have always had such a deep and burning love for Latin American countries and people and have always assumed that's where my first adult mission trip would take place. But oh... my heart is already so very drawn to these people. I am so in love with the work PCL is doing over there and I haven't even seen it yet!
4. The Support
If I start naming, I'll mess up, so I'm going to speak in broad terms. We had three major fundraisers for this trip and the support of our church family (and others) has been ridiculous. We took a special offering and had a yard sale and bake sale. People gave so much to these events. For those who donated yard sale items, gave in the offering, brought us donuts or breakfast or lunch, sold lemonade at our yard sale (Emma and Kelsey, that's you!), made brownies to sell, brought a sweet for our dessert auction last Sunday, BOUGHT a sweet treat from our dessert auction... We thank you more than we can say. People came out of the woodwork (and had me steal them at a family vacation to cut clothes) to work on the paper doll project, a brainstorm of Beth's. My grandmother gave me a bunch of little purses she has worked on this week to take to the little girls.
For me personally, the number of precious text messages, voicemails, and fb contact from so many people in my life has been simply staggering. I'm just going to say, it is a bold Christian teenager who will send a text message to a teacher describing in vivid detail exactly what prayers are going up for her this week. I got the kindest word from my principal and fb messages from parents of students. My friends near and far, new and old, have left me voicemails (got it, JP!) and texts and fb posts. I wrote a whole post about Mayfield, but the number of people from my kids' school who have offered support on this endeavor has been insane. My grandparents called me tonight to pray for me over the phone before I leave. I am blown away by the love of my people.
5. The Finances
I hate to talk about money but I feel like I can't let it pass without issuing a public thank you (you will get a personal card) and also giving God the glory He is due. This trip cost $3000. People donated $2895 of mine. The donations came from some I sent letters to and most whom I did not. My very first donation was from one of my oldest friends and he handed it to me when I had barely even mentioned going on a trip. My last came from a friend who lives across the US and whom I have not seen in person since my first year of college. I, through little to no effort or advertising, got 24 orders for seat belt pillows in a month that paid for the rest. I so appreciate those who had me craft things for them or plan their parties in exchange for a trip donation. God is just amazing. That's all there is to it.
I am so BLESSED. Plain and simple. I have told Kraig a hundred times over the past nine months that I am surrounded by the biggest-hearted, most loving, most Christ-like, BEST friends and family a person could ever, ever have. Please remember us this week. Please pray for our team and the kids we will come into contact with, for seeds to be sown. Pray for safety and provision for us over the next ten days. Pray for protection over the families we leave behind and for peace of mind as we leave them (that's mostly for me, I'm pretty sure). ;) Thank you!
Friday, July 19, 2013
Help Me Know You are Near...
Question: If you were leaving the country in 36 hours and had not packed one item nor cleaned one room of your house nor even PLANNED what all you needed to take, would you be sitting on your couch, playing on your phone and blogging? Likely not. You know why? Because you very likely focus and plan and do not procrastinate.
The crazy part is that I am a CHIEF planner and organizer and focus entirely too much on most things. (Admittedly, I have a minor procrastination problem, but really, who doesn't???) But for this trip, the biggest trip I have ever been on to the most distant country, I cannot seem to get myself in gear. I have put everything off till the last minute. I needed contacts and new glasses to take. It seemed sensible to me to wait until six days before departure to visit my eye doctor. Thankfully they took it more seriously than I did and put a rush on everything so that it would make it. I had to have an antibiotic. I waited until Wednesday to make that call. I didn't pay off my trip until yesterday. I got mildly chastised by my bank for waiting so late to ask for crisp small bills to take. It's just crazy because it's not me.
But I think I have figured it out. First of all, let me say that I have zero doubt that I am called to go on this trip. The Lord was calling me to go at the very moment this trip was even being initially planned. I just didn't know exactly WHERE He was calling me to go. The finances have been provided in miraculous ways with money coming to me from so many from whom I never would have requested it and this can only be divine providence. I delayed getting a passport until the eleventh hour and it came literally five weeks before I needed it! Even the last minute details listed above have all worked out beautifully. So I am certain that my God is sending me on this trip, that He has placed me here "for such a time as this".
However... I don't think I am quite sure yet that He can handle Tennessee and my people while I'm gone.
I know He created the world, raised people from the dead, died and was Himself resurrected... I know the ocean waves I watched in June come in and go out at His authority... I know He places leaders of countries in power and removes them from power... I know demons flee at the mention of His name... I get it.
But to send angels to encamp around my family over the next ten days?
to wrap His arms around them when I can't?
to hold them safely in the palm of His hand until their hands hold mine again?
I just don't know about all that.
I'm just being real here. Might as well call it what it is. I have struggled with anxiety most of my life and it can become debilitating and overwhelming. I have not worried one iota about myself going overseas. (I did worry a little about what I would eat when I saw some of those pictures of Cambodian food, but I felt much better once Jake described the American food we could order.) Concern for my safety? Not for a second. But I have had moments of raw terror in my heart when I let myself think for very long about being literally around the world from my family. All I can think is how long it would take me to make it back if something happened. That and the fact that I won't be aware at every second of what's going on or able to communicate any time I want.
And what does it boil down to, really? That so far, I have been trusting God with everything except the people who matter most to me. And packing is going to make this whole thing very, very real.
I have a precious friend who serves as my anxiety accountability partner (or my co-pilot on the crazy train), and I had contacted her last month when I had a particularly anxious few days of thought about leaving the girls. She advised that I find a couple of verses to repeat to myself and practice putting it in His hands. I did that ("They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord." ~Psalm 112:7 and "Peace I leave with you and my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your heart be troubled and do not be afraid." ~John 14:27) and have remained a little more in control of my emotions.
Then Wednesday night, we sang that beautiful praise and worship song, "You're All I Want". I hadn't ever paid much attention to the line, "Help me know You are near" until that night. I think that's when it became clear to me that just because He's going to Cambodia with me does NOT mean He's leaving my babes alone in Tennessee. His hand will be on them as surely as it is on me, all the way around on the other side of the world.
And you know, I think He even understands my lapses in faith and the moments I feel like I can't swallow because I am almost paralyzed by the fear my thoughts create. I know that, in those moments, He's going to "help me know He is near". He will remind me that He is near to me and He is near to Emma and Kelsey and Kraig (and all of my other loved ones on this continent). That's just the kind of God He is.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
A Chair, a Playset, and a Realization
***Disclaimer: If you are about to send a five year old to Kindergarten, an eighteen year old to college, have a daughter get married, or are the emotional mother of a new baby, you might want to steer clear of this one. ;)
One time I cried about an over-stuffed chair. At a yard sale. And again later, at home, in the secret of my bed. That chair was one of our early marriage purchases, bought at some point before we had Emma. It came with a huge ottoman that was the perfect size for "burrito-ing" (swaddling) a baby, for changing a diaper, and later for a toddler pulling up. That chair (and its partner love seat and couch) was peed on, pooped on, spit up on, fed on, and a whole lot of loved on. It was in that chair that I battled Emma and her refusal to eat during her first few days. The day we brought Kelsey home from the hospital after her extended pediatric stay, I sat in that chair and tried everything I knew to make her stop fussing. And then I sat in it as I just wept with her. I sat in that chair every single time I nursed Emma or Kelsey. I doubt any piece of furniture has ever been the holder of any more baby snuggles than that chair. It was just the perfect shape and size to hold a mommy and her girl, whether her girl was brand new or three years old. Just after we finished our current house, we sold that furniture at a yard sale. As I watched that chair get loaded into the back of a truck and put that dirty $50 bill in my pocket, I knew I was watching the end of babies. And even though I knew I was READY for that ending, it still hurt. There are still days I wish I could cuddle up with a little downy head in the crook of my neck and smell that baby smell. And even in knowing that, I know that there were many tears shed in that chair, many nights of wishing the present would become the past and things would get easier.
Tonight I cried over a playset. Correction, I am CURRENTLY crying over a playset. I hadn't realized this until just now, but that playset came into our lives right around the time the chair went out. We bought it just after we moved into this house. I doubted it would ever come to completion because when Kraig opened up the box from Sam's, all of the stickers that labeled each piece of wood were laying in the bottom of the box where they had fallen from the heat. He had to measure EACH STICK OF WOOD and figure out which ones were A, B, C, and that stinking D. I am not exaggerating when I say he (and several other helpful people) spent about 26 hours working on that playset. And yet, it was so worthwhile. It has been home to little baby legs just learning to push on the swings, to hours of playing "school" in the upper house, to picnics on the platform, and to "club meetings". It has entertained kids during innumerable birthday parties and social gatherings.
I went out tonight to clean it out so that its new owners can pick it up tomorrow. The tangible evidence of childhood imaginations almost broke my heart. A bell hung by a string from the top to the ground... their doorbell. A whiteboard listed "club rules" and club members. Probably the cutest and what brought the most tears was a pair of "binoculars"... two toilet paper rolls glued together and attached by a string to the hook above the window. And there were the two little Strawberry Shortcake stools that sat inside.
See, the memories of that chair? I was present in all of those. I have crawled through the tunnel and spent time in the playhouse up top (and slid down the slide), but more of the memories of the playhouse don't include my presence. I was outside, but I certainly overheard (and chuckled at, and tweeted, and later repeated to Kraig) many of the conversations that took place inside. And so tomorrow, when I pocket the $125 and watch the playset get loaded in pieces onto a trailer to be taken to a new location to be played on by other kids, in some sense I'll be seeing the end of childhood, or at least young childhood. And I'm just not so sure this is an ending I AM ready for. I don't think I can say goodbye yet to toilet paper roll binoculars and campaign posters taped to walls. I still need the funny conversations and the separate but together presence.
Because I know that the next big thing... it won't even be as "mine" as that playset was... Every phase passes with less of my presence tied to it. And that's how it's supposed to be. Kids grow up and they need you less and you aren't as physically tied. But somehow, your heart feels more wrapped up than it ever did. I guess this is what parenting is... getting as much out of the moments, whether they are spent bouncing a screaming baby who refuses to be soothed or listening to two sisters as they sit on Strawberry Shortcake stools and call each other pretend names and practice a grownup world... all the while knowing that one day those moments will be gone and someone will drive away with a loaded-down truck, ushering in a new phase of life.
One time I cried about an over-stuffed chair. At a yard sale. And again later, at home, in the secret of my bed. That chair was one of our early marriage purchases, bought at some point before we had Emma. It came with a huge ottoman that was the perfect size for "burrito-ing" (swaddling) a baby, for changing a diaper, and later for a toddler pulling up. That chair (and its partner love seat and couch) was peed on, pooped on, spit up on, fed on, and a whole lot of loved on. It was in that chair that I battled Emma and her refusal to eat during her first few days. The day we brought Kelsey home from the hospital after her extended pediatric stay, I sat in that chair and tried everything I knew to make her stop fussing. And then I sat in it as I just wept with her. I sat in that chair every single time I nursed Emma or Kelsey. I doubt any piece of furniture has ever been the holder of any more baby snuggles than that chair. It was just the perfect shape and size to hold a mommy and her girl, whether her girl was brand new or three years old. Just after we finished our current house, we sold that furniture at a yard sale. As I watched that chair get loaded into the back of a truck and put that dirty $50 bill in my pocket, I knew I was watching the end of babies. And even though I knew I was READY for that ending, it still hurt. There are still days I wish I could cuddle up with a little downy head in the crook of my neck and smell that baby smell. And even in knowing that, I know that there were many tears shed in that chair, many nights of wishing the present would become the past and things would get easier.
Tonight I cried over a playset. Correction, I am CURRENTLY crying over a playset. I hadn't realized this until just now, but that playset came into our lives right around the time the chair went out. We bought it just after we moved into this house. I doubted it would ever come to completion because when Kraig opened up the box from Sam's, all of the stickers that labeled each piece of wood were laying in the bottom of the box where they had fallen from the heat. He had to measure EACH STICK OF WOOD and figure out which ones were A, B, C, and that stinking D. I am not exaggerating when I say he (and several other helpful people) spent about 26 hours working on that playset. And yet, it was so worthwhile. It has been home to little baby legs just learning to push on the swings, to hours of playing "school" in the upper house, to picnics on the platform, and to "club meetings". It has entertained kids during innumerable birthday parties and social gatherings.
I went out tonight to clean it out so that its new owners can pick it up tomorrow. The tangible evidence of childhood imaginations almost broke my heart. A bell hung by a string from the top to the ground... their doorbell. A whiteboard listed "club rules" and club members. Probably the cutest and what brought the most tears was a pair of "binoculars"... two toilet paper rolls glued together and attached by a string to the hook above the window. And there were the two little Strawberry Shortcake stools that sat inside.
See, the memories of that chair? I was present in all of those. I have crawled through the tunnel and spent time in the playhouse up top (and slid down the slide), but more of the memories of the playhouse don't include my presence. I was outside, but I certainly overheard (and chuckled at, and tweeted, and later repeated to Kraig) many of the conversations that took place inside. And so tomorrow, when I pocket the $125 and watch the playset get loaded in pieces onto a trailer to be taken to a new location to be played on by other kids, in some sense I'll be seeing the end of childhood, or at least young childhood. And I'm just not so sure this is an ending I AM ready for. I don't think I can say goodbye yet to toilet paper roll binoculars and campaign posters taped to walls. I still need the funny conversations and the separate but together presence.
Because I know that the next big thing... it won't even be as "mine" as that playset was... Every phase passes with less of my presence tied to it. And that's how it's supposed to be. Kids grow up and they need you less and you aren't as physically tied. But somehow, your heart feels more wrapped up than it ever did. I guess this is what parenting is... getting as much out of the moments, whether they are spent bouncing a screaming baby who refuses to be soothed or listening to two sisters as they sit on Strawberry Shortcake stools and call each other pretend names and practice a grownup world... all the while knowing that one day those moments will be gone and someone will drive away with a loaded-down truck, ushering in a new phase of life.
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