Summa, summa, summa-tiiiime

This will go down in history as the most uninteresting and boring post, but I'm so frustrated life's been so busy that I'm only posting once a week. So for your utter and complete pleasure (and for an exercise in writing more) here's what we've been up to since school ended at noon on Friday:

Friday @ Noon-Thirty
Jaana's 2nd Annual Last Day of School Tea Party. The now-second-graders came in dresses to have lunch and play at the park. Last year we actually had tea and teacups and teapots. But since we had just moved in, we made slight alterations to the plan and did it at the park. Success!

Friday at Dinner Time
Dinner with a couple that was up for the weekend. Now, I knew the guy we were eating with worked for Chick-Fil-A and was kind of up there in the corporation. But I didn't realize he was the Head of Marketing. In fact, was the one-and-original marketing guy that CFA ever hired, 20-something years ago.

I don't say that to be all, "guess who I ate with??" I say it to say that I am an advertising geek. My degree was advertising, my past career was advertising, and the CFA Cow Campaign in particular, has been my most favorite campagin ever. Pure genius.

So when all the pieces started coming together at dinner, I was able to totally interrupt what he was saying and blurt out, "So you hired The Richards Group and helped develop the cow campaign??" And then I proceeded to gush about the entire campaign, the relationship between client and agency, and why it worked so well...yada yada yada.

Bless his heart, he was humoring me and nodding like, "Yep, I know. I was there." But he was so incredibly nice to regale me with the entire process, start-to-finish, leaving no stone unturned. I went home in an advertising high, my mind reeling. An utter lifetime highlight for someone who used to pour over Advertising Age for kicks and giggles.

Saturday - Afternoon:ish
Packed up the family and headed to the metropolis of Waynesville so I could get to the Verizon store and figure out this hotspot unit once and for all. I won't embarrass myself and tell you the issue all along was that the SIM card was inserted improperly. Lunch at Clyde's, which boasts the "best burgers in town." However, their only competition seemed to be Hardee's. Followed lunch with quick trips to Lowe's and Wal-Mart. Got blinds and new throw pillows. Hip hip!

Saturday - Dinner
Dinner with neighbors that was delightful and fun.

Sunday - All Day
Church. First morning service, then a meeting for the Bolivia missions trip. Home in time to do a few more things around the house, eat dinner and get the kids to bed.

Monday - Morning
Didn't wake up until 8:am, and no lunches to pack, school clothes to match or backpacks to find. Jaana's friend Hayley is over for the day. Paxton is taking a morning nap, and the girls have been locked in Jaana's room for two hours. I'm getting things done around the house, getting work done, AND writing.

It's only been 72 hours, but so far, it's the best start to summer ever. When the boy wakes up, we're packing up lunch to take to the pool and then it will be time to sit back and unwind.

How's the start to your summer been?

Mothering

Even at seven and one-and-a-half years old, I still check on them a couple times a night to make sure they're breathing. Especially if one of them is sick or has had any kind of medicine.

I secretly get excited when one is sick because it means they will just lay with me in their PJ's and snuggle.

At the park or after school, if I see or hear about another kid being mean-spirited to mine, the Mama Bear in me comes out and I want to throw blows and that that child down. Even if they are two.

I compare every other kid I meet to mine, and always come to the same conclusion - mine are better. (No offense.)

When I think about life with either of them, it seems so gray, boring and incomplete.

I will spoil them rotten as often as possible simply because I love watching their faces light up.

I get sad that I can't remember well what they were really like even just a year ago; they change so much...so fast.

Even when they resist, or erupt in tears, I do what's best for them because I'm raising people, not just having babies.

I sympathize when my head tells me not to. I discipline when my heart resists.

I cave when their big, blue eyes bat at me and they say "Mommy" in that sweet and tender voice.

I hold strong when their big, blue eyes bat at me and they say "Mommy" in that sweet and tender voice.

I'm a Mom. It's what I do.

There are two fundamental truths that Mothers will continue to pass down through the end of time. One is that regardless of the situation, the decision or the outcome...there is always something for a Mom to feel guilty about. The other is that every Mom will fail miserably in some way, shape or form. And our daughters and sons will recognize that failure and be determined to make it better when they have kids.

But what we fail to recognize in our guilt and failure -- what will give us comfort and relieve some of the pressure -- is that this has been the cycle since Eve. It's a continuous ebb-and-flow of doing great, and failing greatly. Thousands of years later, the cry is the same. I'm sure Eve's daughter at some point said, "How could Mom have been such an idiot?!"

Sometimes, as I'm scratching Jaana's back, I wonder what the cry to her child will be. Will she say, "I swear I will never be on the computer as much as your Grandma!" Or, "She never just played Barbies with me. All I ever wanted was for her to sit and play Barbies."

As all mothers have done from beginning of time to today, we do the best we know how to do. And somedays our best is better than others. We love our children with as much love as we can hold in our human form. We make fools out of ourselves for them; we also take them for granted. We smother them with love and affection; we also put them to bed at night and wonder if they even felt like we loved them at all that day. We notice every little detail of their faces; we also study them some mornings and wonder when all the freckles erupted, or when they got so tall. We think we know every little thing about them; and then realize we might not really know them at all.

It's the best, worst, hardest and most rewarding job to have. The only way to do it and do it remotely well is through prayer and the wisdom and strength of Christ. Because really, at the end of the day, knowing I'll fail them eventually at their greatest point of need scares me to death. But if I pursue each day with Jesus, then I know that even when I do fail, He will be there to mend their broken pieces and stop the hemorrhaging the way only He can. He's the ultimate Mama when our humanity gets in the way of our own mothering.

As I celebrate this Mother's Day, I'm asking for a fresh anointing and realization of what motherhood means. I don't want to take any moment for granted. This is a precious job I've been given. Rather, a most precious job I've been blessed with. And if I could do it free of the chains of guilt and failure, what a valuable legacy I could leave with them.

"Lord, I serve you. I serve you just as my mother did. 

You have set me free from the chains of my suffering." 

(Psalm 116:16)

And Now He's One.

I guess you could say this post is more of a praise report than a birthday wish to my boy. Originally I was just going to write about how much Paxton has grown over his first year of life, what a blessing he is...and post pictures of him not wanting to eat his cake. But God sort of blew my socks off today, and I want to really savor it, and grasp the fullness of all that He’s done.

This fall I submitted an article to www.incourage.me for publication on their website and daily email subscription. They said they loved my submission (fall-related), but wanted something more winter-focused. I knew just the thing to submit, and they told me it would be featured on December 10. “Aww,” I thought to myself, “how sweet, it will come out on Paxton’s birthday!” The article is about my struggles with miscarriages and how that affected my faith in God..and how God was reminding me that He can do anything He wants to do, whenever He wants to do it. So the timing of it was divine, I knew.

I didn’t realize at the time just how divine it was.

The article came out today. So I sat down to re-read it (you know, to make sure I didn’t say anything goofy or whatnot). By the time I got to the end of it, I was in tears and couldn’t speak. I hadn’t realized that the date I originally wrote the article was December 9, 2008. And I also hadn’t realized that at the end of the article I had written, “And if that means making it snow on December 10 in Georgia, then bring it on.”

Exactly one year later, on December 10, 2009, God did make it snow. My Paxton was born.

And now, another year later to the day, God brought me the reminder to my inbox of what He can do when I first ask Him, then hand over the control to Him. 

It was such a hard year experiencing those two miscarriages. Then when I did get pregnant with Paxton, each day was filled with anxiety. Each doctor’s appointment I was wracked with fear praying there would still be a heartbeat. His delivery was very difficult and required a last-minute, unexpected C-section. I vomited for 14 hours afterwards and had a difficult recovery. But here I am, a year later, and I can honestly say it was all worth it. Every tear, every heartbreak, every fear I struggled to take captive and submit to Christ...every moment of it was completely worth the blessing we have now. Paxton is amazing. He’s perfect. He’s a joy.

And now he’s one. 

I feel so humbled and unworthy that God would orchestrate such perfect timing for all of this...just to remind me that He’s still in control. That He was weaving together a beautiful, original tapestry. That I was too close to see how it was going to look, but from up above it was going to be beautiful. Breathtakingly, heartbreakingly beautiful.

I sometimes can’t believe he loves me so much that He’ll go out of his way to show me. I don’t feel like I’ve done anything to deserve it, and I tell Him that.

And He replies, “I know.”

Happy birthday to my sweet blessing. Thank you for being here, and for reminding me of how deep the Father’s love for us.

I love you. Both of you.

My Girl

I don’t know why, but I’m feeling extra melancholy about my little girl lately. Maybe it’s because she’s in first grade now; or maybe because she’s having her first group sleepover; or perhaps it’s because she has suddenly turned into a Girl with a capital G and I wonder what happened to my baby. At any rate, I’m all sorts of sappy about her and decided I wanted to share some things about her because it’s my blog and I can brag if I want to.

Jaana is a wonderful mixed bag of qualities that only God could distribute. And when you study her and listen to her, it’s amazingly apparent that God truly is the Giver of Life and Creator of All...because she mysteriously has these charming characteristics that do not come from Greg or me. They have to be God-given.

She loves to play. Yes, this is indicative of any six-year-old, but to me it’s more than that. She finds the fun in everything -- grocery shopping, errands, post office, bank -- she wants and expects for any activity to have a level of fun involved. Any experience is an adventure, and sometimes Party Pooper Mommy forgets that the boring things can be fun if I would just change my outlook on them.

She’s caring. She hates it if someone feels left out or has their feelings hurt. She always wants to include everyone. Any time we see the flashing lights of an “am-blee-ance” she is overly concerned for whoever they are going to and wants to pray for them.

She’s creative. Her imagination and creativity are enviable. She can literally sit in front of a pile of dirt with a shovel and be entertained for hours by making up stories as she plays. She’s a great story-teller and a wonderful writer and artist.

She lives in the moment. She holds hands with her best friend at school events. She grasps on to my leg and won’t let go while walking at the park. She’ll gaze at the sky and take a deep breath and say, “Isn’t it so beautiful outside today, Mommy?”  Where ever she is, she’s 100% present.

She’s really come out of her shy shell since we moved here and is really letting others see her multi-faceted personality. She’s a quiet but strong leader. She tries her best in just about everything, and is now loving the things that used to be difficult. When she wants to give up, I love watching her try “just one more time” and then seeing that look of confidence wash over her face that she was, indeed, able to do it.

As a parent, there’s something that swells inside your heart for your child that’s unlike anything else. Yes, you have moments of frustration and exhaustion. But then there are those times when you just watch them as they sleep, and you can’t stop running your hand over their head, tears brimming over your love for them. When those times happen, I try so hard to remember that God feels that way about me, too. That I frustrate him, I exhaust him, but his heart is always swelling at the thought of me.

God is so much more like a child than an adult:

He loves to play. Nothing is ever boring for him. He parts seas and makes donkeys talk. He is the joy in all things. (John 10:10)

He’s caring. He’s always concerned for the ones that are lost. The prodigals, the lonely, the outcasts, the rejected all touch his heart. (Luke 15:4)

He’s creative. He does things with wild imagination and reckless abandon, in ways we could never conceive or imagine. (Isaiah 55:9)

He lives in the moment. He’s always present right where he is. Not looking ahead and all there is to do, or what didn’t get done. (John 11)

As I observe and study my girl, I pray that I can more and more receive God through her. That when I see her twirling in the grass or remarking on how beautiful a flower is, I can in that moment see God speaking to me through her...telling me to slow down and play. To stop looking at my own needs and focus on others. To think outside the box and be open to wherever that takes me. And to accept where I am, instead of thinking about where I’m not.

“The people brought children to Jesus, hoping he might touch them.

The disciples shooed them off. But Jesus was irate and let them know it:

‘Don't push these children away. Don't ever get between them and me.

These children are at the very center of life in the kingdom. Mark this: Unless you accept God's kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you'll never get in.’

Then, gathering the children up in his arms, he laid his hands of blessing on them.”

(Mark 10:13-15, MSG)