Love & Respect

I just finished reading this book, Love and Respect. It is written by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs. I borrowed this image of the book from his website.

The entire subject matter of this book is based on God's command in Ephesians 5:33...

Nevertheless let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband.

The book is filled with many wonderful points, but there were a few that struck me with tremendous strength...

• A man needs respect (reverence) from his wife, just like a woman needs love from her husband. The author mentions that most relationship seminars focus on love, but leave out the role of respect.
  
• Respect is not a recommendation or suggestion.....it is a command from God.
• I need to show unconditional respect to my husband, much like I show unconditional love to my children. Unconditional.....meaning I don't wait for him to earn it.
• If we think about the beginning of our marriage, we married good-willed folks. So why do we assume the role of enemies when times are tough? (This was HUGE for me, because I have reached a point of denying that my husband has good intentions toward me. I am now reminded that his intentions are not evil. Poorly executed, but not evil. There is a BIG difference.)

I've received an attitude adjustment just by reading this book.

Dr. Eggerichs goes on to explain that a "Crazy Cycle" occurs in a marriage when a woman feels unloved, she reacts disrespectfully, and when a man is disrespected, he reacts in an unloving way. So, our reactions bring forth the worst response in each other.

On the other hand, if a woman makes a point to respect her husband, and a man makes a point to love his wife, then we energize our relationship.

My husband's intentions are not for evil, and I need to be respectful toward him. What a difference those two lessons make in my marriage and in my life!

The Best Mother's Day

I was very blessed this Mother's Day.

My children worked hard to make the day really special and fun.

This is certainly one of the best Mother's Days I have ever experienced.  

There have been many times when my birthday and Mother's Day were nightmares.  My husband would choose those days to let his selfishness shine brightest, and I often assumed he was doing it purposefully to hurt me.  Even though he can be kind and generous toward others, he was furious about any expectation that he should be kind and generous toward me.  He typically expected to receive from me at all times, and did not have a servant's heart toward me at all.  So, holidays such as my birthday, or Mother's Day, or times when my health required care (such as surgery recovery or a pregnancy complication), brought out the worst in him.  Mother's Day last year was so awful that instead of a gift or a card, he informed me he wanted a divorce.    [That day changed me, and I decided right then that I would never expect him to be part of any holiday or celebration in my life, ever again.]

Not all Mother's Day holidays were bad.  I will never forget what happened on Mother's Day 2001.  Mackenzie arrived stillborn June 2000, and our angel baby was miscarried February 2001.  By the time Mother's Day arrived in May 2001, I was in a pretty serious depression about how painful it was to be a mother without any living children.  The outpouring of support that I had when Mackenzie died, did not extend that far.  The support following the early miscarriage was not as prevalent.  I was so sad, so heartbroken, and so depressed.  No one seemed to understand, and others expected me to be over it by then.  I broke down in a fit of tears, and cried to my husband that no one was going to acknowledge that I was a mother on Mother's Day, because my 2 babies were dead, and not in my arms.  Much to my absolute shock, my husband pulled out a Mother's Day card he had bought for me.  I cried even harder.  It was the sweetest gift ever.  I was so deeply in need of that kind of compassion.  

As the years went by my husband has often tried to down play what he did for me.  He tells me it was just a card, and that it was no big deal.  He did not mean it to be the big sentiment that I took it as.  Regardless of how deep he felt or did not feel about me at the time, it was the thought that counted.  He thought of me as a mother, even though my arms were empty, my heart was broken, and my babies were dead.  At that low point in my life, what I needed most was for someone to acknowledge me as a mother. He filled a great need, whether he meant to or not.

This year, much to my surprise, The Referee acknowledged Mother's Day.  He mentioned it early, and planned to take the kids out to buy me a present.  Considering he lost track of Easter this year, I was surprised that he thought of Mother's Day.  I was even more surprised that he took the time to take the kids out to get me a gift.  Then, I was completely shocked when he emailed me to say that the gift the kids picked was not very expensive, so he was transferring the rest of the money he had budgeted for a gift to my bank account.  Wow!

He also informed us that he would forgo his Sunday afternoon visit with the kids, so that I could spend time with them on Mother's Day.  Jersey #2 voiced what we were all thinking....he could still come over and spend Mother's Day with us....but apparently that was taking it too far for him.  He was willing to acknowledge the day, and get me a gift.  He was not willing to celebrate it with me.

I used to believe that it was important for The Referee to teach his children how to treat me with respect.  It turns out, I taught them how to respect and celebrate someone myself.  Last night, just before bedtime, I over heard the kids talking to each other about how they were going to set up the dining room table with my Mother's Day gifts.  Having the dining table decorated with gifts is a tradition I maintain for each of their birthdays.  They love waking up to the celebration on the morning of their birthday.  They wanted to create that same environment for me to wake up to on Mother's Day.  My heart melted.  What thoughtful children I have!  The problem they were working out was how to get the gifts to the table, when they go to bed before I do, and most of them wake up after I do as well.  Jersey #3 was the solution, because he is the early bird.  He wakes up an hour before me, most mornings.  They devised the plan that he would get up early, and wake up his older sisters, so that they could all get the Mother's Day surprise ready for me.  

Things did not go nearly as planned, as I had to wake up earlier than usual to let out one of our dogs.  Jersey #3 ended up sleeping in.  After I let the dog out, I returned to bed, and let the kids wake up on their own and bustle about the house.  As soon as everything was in place, Jersey #4 came into my room to ask if I was ready to wake up.  It was so much fun to walk out to the dining room and be greeted by my smiling children, who had dressed themselves for church (they decided that they should help me get to church on time, since it was Mother's Day).  They were so excited about their gifts, and could not wait for me to see them.

 

My children went out of their way to make Mother's Day wonderful this year.  They know me so well.  The evening before, they cheerfully helped me get the house cleaned up

Jersey #1 and Jersey #2 each made me a Mother's Day cake.  This tradition of cake on Mother's Day comes from the Dora the Explorer cartoons.  In a Mother's Day episode, Dora and her friends were preparing gifts for their Moms.  Dora had to go out and gather the ingredients for a special cake for her Mom.  Ever since we viewed that episode when Jersey #1 and Jersey #2 were preschoolers, they have enjoyed making or decorating a Mother's Day cake for me. This year, Jersey #1 made a jello cake with cool-whip frosting (a cake my Mom used to make during the summer, when I was a kid).  Jersey #2 made a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting (my favorite cake).   

The younger kids got to take a turn adding candy sprinkles to the top of the chocolate cake...

We ate cake for breakfast.  That was fun!

The kids were proud of the bouquets of artificial flowers they each picked for me.  They put them together with a smiley face balloon, and made a beautiful display for the center of my dining room table.  I love this.  I love the idea of a bouquet of flowers in the center of the table, but I do not enjoy the price of fresh cut flowers.  The kids found the perfect solution, and it is so beautiful.

The other gifts were sweets.  I love sweets.  Jersey #1 and Jersey #2 each gave me a chocolate caramel candy bar.  That is my favorite chocolate candy.  Jersey #4 gave me peanut butter cups.  She later explained that she knew I loved chocolate, but that she thought I would get tired of the chocolate caramel, so she wanted to get me other chocolate that she knew I liked.  She chose well.  Gift giving from girls is different than gift giving from boys, even at these young ages.  Jersey #3 gave me a bottle of Sprite (his favorite soda).  Jersey #5 gave me a bag of sour jelly beans....and then immediately asked me if I would open them and share them with him!  

At Sunday School this morning, the older kids made Mother's Day cards, where they had to write answers that described me.  They listed things I loved, and ways I am patient with them.  The cards were really sweet, and showed me just how each kid sees things.  Jersey #1 said I loved science.  Jersey #2 said I loved red and blue.  Jersey #3 said I loved him!  When commenting about what I give, Jersey #1 said I give my time to see my children learn.  Jersey #2 said I give my kids love and comfort (she also mentioned in church that I comfort her).  Jersey #3 said I give FOOD!  Tears came to my eyes when I read what they wrote about what I "needed."  Jersey #3 said I needed hugs.  Jersey #2 said I needed a family.  Jersey #1 said I needed my children, all thundering 8 of them!  Sometimes I think my kids see right into my soul.  

Attached to the cards were coupons good for services from the kids.  They included washing dishes, an uninterrupted nap, and other chores.  Each one stated, "without whining or complaining."  Jersey #1 took extras, and proudly gave them to me, telling me that I can cash them in with her any time.  Jersey #3 acted surprised that there was a coupon attached to his card.  When I read it to him, and explained that it said he was going to be wiling to wash dishes without whining or complaining, he looked shocked.  I asked him if he chose to give me this coupon on his own, and he shook his head no!  He knew nothing about it.  That cracked me up.

For fun this afternoon, the kids and I went bowling.  I had signed them up for the "Kids Bowl Free" program, that gives 2 free games of bowling every day during the summer.  The bowling alley also offered a pass for shoe rental, which will pay for itself by the 5th time we go to bowl.  That is quite a deal.  The kids had so much fun that we are certain we will go bowling as many times as possible this summer. 

I don't think we have been bowling for at least a couple years.  It took a few attempts before everyone got the hang of it.  By the second game, there was a steep competition brewing.  Everyone was trying to beat their previous score, in addition to trying to beat other siblings.  Their bowling techniques had me laughing.  Jersey #5 wiggled and bent, trying to will the ball in the direction he was moving.  Then, he would jump and cheer when any pins were knocked down.  Jersey #4 bowled so softly that her ball took a while to get down the lane.  She would get tired of waiting for it, and would sit down, or lay down on the floor and watch.  When Jersey #3 bowled a strike, his cheers could be heard across the entire facility.  Jersey #2 and Jersey #1 were full of smiles and good cheer.  We had a good time.

I took advantage of the opportunity and took some pictures with my kids.  It was such a HAPPY Mother's Day!

Adultery Looks Appealing

"Dying to yourself may mean that you selflessly love a spouse who has cheated you out of a marriage you so desperately wanted."   
---Kyle Idleman, not a fan.

Never in a million years did I ever consider the idea that my marriage would fail.

I don't quit.  So, failure is not an option.

Knowing that The Referee came from a broken home, with no example of how to keep a relationship strong enough to go the distance, I insisted that he seriously consider the fact that I believe marriage is forever, as God designed.  I was not playing games.  When our dating relationship became more serious, I suggested that we study and learn how to work through dysfunctional habits and work toward healthy ones.  I was very pleased at the way The Referee took my beliefs seriously.  We studied.  We talked.  We learned.  We grew.  He even pursued other resources to help him work through some past emotional wounds.  He proved to me that he loved me so much that he was willing to go the distance just to marry me.

I had full confidence in us.

The first time he had a breakdown and decided to walk out on his entire life, I did not take it as a mental health situation, I took it as a personal rejection.  (It was easy to take it personally, since his anger and justifications for his unhappiness blamed me).  

It shook me to the core to realize that he could single-handedly alter my life so dramatically, and for the worst.

I learned a very powerful truth about marriage that day.  I learned that my husband could choose a course of action that would directly affect my life, and I do not even get a vote in the matter.  

Marriage is a leap of faith.

We are trusting that our spouse will conduct themselves in a manner that is respectful of the relationship, and committed to the marriage.

When we attempted marriage counseling with a certified counselor, she made a quick comment during the first session that really bothered me. 

"It takes two to tango."


It is a common saying.  It implies that marriage problems are not a result of one person.  Both spouses are required to make a marriage work, and both spouses are responsible for its demise.


In my head I was thinking that sure it takes two to make the marriage work, but really it only takes one to quit and ruin it.


I was willing to go the distance.  Through the good times and the bad times.  Six months ago, my husband decided that he wanted out of the marriage, and away from our family life.  Some call it a breakdown.  I took it personal.  His rage and blame were clearly directed at me.  Since then, he has gained some new perspective.  He no longer blames me.  He apologized.  He tells me it is not personal.    


I feel completely cheated out of the marriage I wanted.  I am angry that when I took my marriage vows, I was saying "until death do we part," and apparently my husband was saying, "until I change my mind and decide to quit."


Rejection hurts us to the core.  It breaks our hearts.  It damages our self worth.  


Well-meaning friends suggested I take legal action with a vengeance.  It is our nature to want to take justice into our own hands.


Instead, I choose to live by God's Word.


God hates divorce.


Ok.  I am not pursuing divorce, but now what?  Do I throw a pity party?  Do I wait?  Do I pray for reconciliation?  Do I try to fix it?


I do not want to be a doormat.  I do not want to be treated like a second class citizen.


Many folks start dating right away.  Some start even before the divorce is final.  When a person remarries right after the divorce, it is fairly safe to assume that they were dating in the midst.  Having someone else pay attention to you and treat you like you are special, helps take away the sting of rejection from the one who discarded you.  


Adultery looks so appealing.


Falling in love is fun.  It sounds so nice to seek someone who is willing to love you.  


I do not want to be alone for the rest of my life.  I want a companion to "do life" with.


I poured out these thoughts and desires to God, in prayer.  I just could not see why this was happening to me, or how to stop it.  I tried looking for a way that divorce and remarriage would be acceptable.  


I was not prepared for the answer.


As I grow in my relationship with Christ, I am trying to let go of my entitlements and live a life that is honoring to God.  That is not easy.  Being a completely committed follower requires sacrifice.  


I am required to honor my marriage vows.  Those vows were made to my husband and to God.  We stood before family and friends to make it public, and to celebrate our union.  


I have heard marriage described as a covenant between 3 people:  husband, wife, and God.


My parents have a poster on the wall of their home that says, "The closer we come to God, the closer we are to each other."  The idea is that if the 3-way relationship is a triangle, and both spouses have their eyes on Christ, they are coming closer to each other, because they are approaching a single apex of the triangle.


As I pondered that image, it dawned on me that it really does take two to tango.  


Two:  me + God.    Currently, that is who is holding this marriage together.


Regardless of what the legal system says about my marital status (which it doesn't say anything different, because we have not yet filed any dissolution of marriage paperwork), and regardless of where we each take up residence, I will always be married to my husband in the eyes of God, who joined us together.  Until death do we part... 

Therefore they are no more two, but one flesh. 

What therefore God has joined together, 

let not man put asunder.  ---Matthew 19:6

Regardless of what our marriage looks like on paper, or what it looks like in the Christmas card photo, we are still married.  I am still responsible to behave as a wife is instructed to behave, according to the Bible.  The behavior of my husband does not change my role as a wife.  He will answer to God for his actions.  I will answer to God for my actions.  Two wrongs will not make it right. 


That hardly seems fair here on Earth.  I want revenge.  I want justice.  I want to be loved.  I want my own happiness.


Well, Jesus never said it was going to be easy.  Quite the contrary, He said following Him required taking up a cross.  Ouch!  


Justice will be served in eternity.


Here on Earth, I am called to obey God's Word, and honor my marriage vows.  I am to respect my husband.  I am to love selflessly.  I am to be faithful.


(Thankfully, there is no place in the Bible that says I have to be a doormat!)  Love and respect strengthen my integrity, not lessen it.  My self worth is high when I see myself as God sees me.  God Loves Me.


It is not easy to let go of my anger.  It is not easy to let go of my bitterness.  It is not easy to let go of my desire to pursue companionship.  It is not easy to let go of my entitlement.  It is not easy when I am trying to do those things on my own.


It is actually easy when my eyes are fixed on Christ, and I am focused on living a life that is pleasing to Him.


Adultery is appealing.  There is a large temptation to seek love again.


But, I must remember that I am a married woman.  I took a vow for a lifetime.


I am purposefully taking steps to distance myself from the temptation.  I wear my wedding ring.  I do not go out to venues filled with single men.  I do not flirt.  I do not conduct myself in any way that implies I am available for a romantic relationship.  I do not even spend time watching romantic movies that will encourage me to focus on what I am missing.  I focus on raising my kids, and keep busy with their activities.  I surround myself with the Word of God:  Bible study, prayer, Christian music, church worship services and activities.  


I lead a full life so that the thoughts of adulterous behavior do not grow within me.  Considering the temptation is the first step down a slippery slope.    


The truth about what is right and what is wrong is there.  


I am making a conscious choice to walk in the truth.


The truth sets me free from the burden of sin.

Book Club

We are a family who loves books. We have shelves of books, piles of books, and closets full of books around our house.

There was a time when The Referee and I decorated in books. Bookshelves were our primary pieces of furniture. We looked forward to buying our college textbooks at the start of each semester, and we rarely sold them back to the bookstore at the semester's end. We justified ourselves by saying we were building a "reference" library for our fields of study.

As the kids and toys began to fill the house, I discovered that I did not have near as much time to read, and hardly the space to store so many unused books. I spent a full year purging all of the excess out of our house. We got rid of a ton of books.

And, then we acquired more.

When we started officially homeschooling, I started filling our home office/school room with school books, text books, workbooks, and all sorts of educational reading material. I filled up every shelf space that was once cleared in previous years. Now, we are in need of more bookshelves.

I have a friend who posted on Facebook that she had read over 60+ books in 2010. I commented back to her that it was more than a book a week, considering there are 52 weeks in a year. Then, and idea struck me:

We should read 50 books this year. That is just under a book a week.

I have been assigning the older kids to read a book a week and write a book report, during the school year this year.

I got to thinking that might be a great idea for me too. It would inspire me to get back into reading, a hobby that I have let go in the midst of motherhood. I thought the kids would enjoy it more if we did this goal as a family. The Referee was on board immediately.

So, I designed a spreadsheet to keep track of each book we read. At first, it was a casual thing. Then, the other night, I was updating the information, and I made a comment that The Referee was ahead of the goal. He reads a lot. That peaked Jersey #1's competitive nature, and she started to whine about how it was not fair, started to complain about the book she was reading, then started to plot and scheme ways to get ahead of him. She scanned the shelves for a simpler book to read real quick, so she could catch up to him. I suspect a spark has been lit in her, as now she is planning book after book.

I am not going to dare tell her at this point that her Dad reads constantly. He has books in paper form and electronic form. He reads on his laptop, on his phone, and now on the Kindle he received for Christmas. It will not surprise me if he surpasses the goal. It will be fun to watch Jersey #1 try to read more just to beat him. A little friendly competition to achieve a worthwhile goal.

A while back, I suggested to The Referee that he and I should read the same book and then take the time to discuss it. This seemed like a fun activity to help us reconnect more. I picked the first book, Love and Respect, then The Referee picked the 2nd book. Then, life got in the way, and we never finished the book or talked about it.

So, I started out my reading list this year with that unfinished book: The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

This book selection has a story. The Referee thinks Stephen Covey is brilliant. He has had the benefit of attending seminars put on by Franklin Covey representatives, with past employers. The book, the people, and the company have a wealth of ideas for success that The Referee would like to acquire.

The amusing part to me is that The Referee is convinced that I have these skills already. Naturally. He has told me this for years. He wanted me to read the book and verify that he was correct, and that I do the things outlined in this book on my own. I have always shook my head and rolled my eyes, thinking he was silly for thinking there is a secret to success in a book like that.

I am still amused. It is a good book. All due respect to Mr. Covey. His skills appear to be keys to success. He has some great points about leading a balanced life. I love the win/win approach. I stink at "sharpening the saw," so I still have to work on that.

And, yes, I do find the skills outlined in the book to be fairly natural. Actually, the book seems a bit long-winded to go into such depth to explain something that strikes me as so simple. But, knowing The Referee's perspective, I realize that it is not so simple to everyone.

This book is filled with great, inspiring quotes, from incredible people. It also gave me ideas for encouraging a stronger work ethic in myself and my kids.

Vulnerable

 This morning, I was standing the in kitchen, at the stove, sauteing vegetables, when I started crying.

I am dodging thoughts and emotions, left and right, and getting clobbered by a few along the way.  

At least I am not angry anymore.  That is something, I guess.

We switched internet providers, and the new service was set to be started up yesterday.  The Referee kindly took care of initiating the new service, and then came over on his lunch break to hook up the modem and have it all set to run as soon as the service was turned on by the company.  Much to my shock, a serviceman arrived at the door that afternoon, saying he was there to install.  I was not expecting an installation person, as everything was already in place, and nothing needed to be installed.  This man insisted he had to do the service.  In the end, he was wrong, and it was all set to be turned on.  But, he still succeeded in throwing me off my groove, and sending me in a frenzy. 

I do not like to be home alone, especially with my children, when service folks arrive.  I do not like strange men to come into my home.  I feel vulnerable, and unsure of how to keep the kids and myself safe.  Knowing this, The Referee has tried to set up service in the past, when he can be here.  I have always depended on my husband for protection.  

So, when this service guy shows up, I am in the middle of cooking grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.  As I try to explain to this guy that everything is set up....and he insists that he needs to check the "box"....and that means I have to bring the dogs in so he can go out to the side of the house......and the soup boils over, and the sandwiches burn on one side.  In the end, none of that was necessary, and he didn't even need to be there.  He did nothing but cause me unexpected stress.

By the time The Referee returned that evening, to make sure all was running well, I was still in a state of agitation and frazzle.  As I retold the story to him, I caught myself admitting out loud,

I hate feeling vulnerable.

And, then, a light bulb went on.  That's it!  That is what is holding me back right now.  When I pray to God that I want my life to be in His will, I typically have the *fine print* request that I will be willing to handle anything as long as I don't have to feel vulnerable.  I don't like to be physically vulnerable, or emotionally vulnerable.

Right now, I am so vulnerable that it isn't even funny.  

I am not in control of our provision.  I am completely dependent on my husband taking the time to transfer money into my bank account each payday, so that I can feed the kids and pay the mortgage.  He has been faithful to do so, every single payday.  Still, it is up to him to make it happen.  There is no legal documents in place to require it.  He is in control of providing for us.  I can only make financial decisions based on what I have.  I am having to live entirely in the present, and make sure the most basic of needs are covered first.  This is an entirely new way of living for me, as I usually like to dream, plan, and set goals. 

I am completely vulnerable in the state of my relationship with my husband, and our marriage.  The vows have been extinguished.  Nothing is sacred.  I do not get to choose whether the marriage will survive or end.  I have no way of knowing what the outcome will be.  I can choose to take sinful actions of my own, or I can choose to remain faithful to my marriage, and wait and see what happens over time.  I have never been good at waiting patiently for something that I want.  

I am completely vulnerable to the ways that our broken family is going to affect the children.  My heart aches every time Jersey #3 or Jersey #4 tells me, "Mommy, I miss Daddy."  I give them a hug, and answer, "I understand.  I miss him too."  I am so clueless as to how to handle this situation that I just have to pray, "Lord, show me the way."  Jersey #2 is my deep thinker.  She is struggling with the status of her character.  Is she a bad person?  Is the stress of her heart condition what was "too much" for her father to handle?  I have been told by others that they blame themselves for their parent's divorce.  I do not want Jersey #2 have such thoughts and feelings, but I can't control how this situation is impacting her.    I hug her and hold her, and remind her how God sees her, and how I see her...how special and amazing she really is.  I just hope and pray that I am enough of an influence to keep her self worth afloat.  With Jersey #1 I wonder if it is too late, or will things ever be able to be repaired?  She acts completely un-phased by whether or not she sees her Dad now.  She is pleased to see him when he comes around, yet doesn't mention him any other time.  Has she given up on having him in her life?  Oh, I fear the consequences of that path.  This is the vulnerability I hate the most.  Broken families create broken people.  I never wanted my children to be broken.  I just pray that I can be enough of a stabilizing force to keep them on a healthier path than the generations before them.  

I am completely vulnerable about my own future.  What plans can I make?  I have always defined myself by my faith and my status as wife, mother, and career.  I had always planned to be Christian, wife, mother, and doctor.  Letting go of the medical career plans when Jersey #2 needed me at home, was tough.  Letting go of the role of wife, because my husband left me, has been humiliating, sad, and lonely.  Letting go of my plans for motherhood, because my baby Titus died, have been excruciating.  

On Sunday, I heard word that there had been a death in the family of one of my Dad's coworkers.  A 17-year old boy had been killed in a car accident.  He was set to graduate high school next week.  I thought about the pain his parents were facing, having just raised this child to near-adulthood, only to lose him so suddenly.  It opened my eyes to just how short life really is.  I decided it was time to stop dwelling about my own life, and just deal with what came my way.  Life is too short to be miserable.  Spending all this time on the "what if's" and "what could have been's" is wasteful and inefficient.

If I am meant to go through life as a single Mom who does not have a husband to love me, then so be it.  If I am meant to parent the kids myself, and train them the in way they should go, then so be it.  If I am meant to do my best to raise the 5 wonderful children I have, and not one more, then I will just have to accept that.  If I am meant to have some sort of a career in the future, I will just have to see how that unfolds for me.  The only defining trait I have not lost is my faith that God is in control.  He will see me through this journey.

I reflected on the Not a Fan sermons, and decided that it was time to take the stand that I would be a completely committed follower too.  I will deny my own plans, dreams, and expectations for my life, and I will follow God's will for my life instead.  

I have been starting down the path to Nursing, and thought I could find a more efficient way to get there.  Instead, it has been clear to me that the path is a steady stroll, not a sprint.  I had to give up my career plans before, so this was an easy one to say to God, "Ok.  I let go of my plans for this course.  I will go through each door when it is opened, and not try to race ahead."  I was pleased with my progress and the peace it brought me.

Yesterday, when my husband came over to set up the internet, and we talked about some financial matters, my anger toward him dissipated.  I was grateful for the ways he was providing, and the things he was taking responsibility for.  I said to God, "Ok.  I will be grateful for all the ways that my husband is still providing for our needs, instead of focusing on what I feel is missing.  I will continue to respect him.  If I am meant to go through the rest of my life alone, I will."  I was pleased with my attitude adjustment, and the peace it brought me.

The true test has come at me in a slow buildup, until I broke.  It started with a couple different friends who are newly married, announcing their pregnancies on Facebook.  Their comments brought back memories of the time when my husband and I were young, in love, newly married, and excited about growing our family too.  Such bittersweet memories of our innocence.  Next, came the announcement of a new cousin who was born into the family.  I was truly excited for the parents.  Babies are a blessing.  Then, when the pictures went up on Facebook, I looked at the beautiful bundle wrapped up in the hospital blanket, wearing the hospital hat, and my mind was flooded with memories of being in the hospital to deliver Titus.  He was too small for the hospital hat.  I thought of all of the baby pictures I have of our beautiful bundles, wrapped up in those hospital blankets.  I remember the joy I felt as I admired each new life that was given to us.  I am sad to face the fact that those experiences will only remain as memories for me now.  There will be no more bundles of new life, wrapped in hospital blankets, for me.  And then I met up with a friend this morning, who happily shared that she is pregnant!  In the same instant, I was so very excited for her, and so very pained for myself.  Jealousy.  This friend and I have shared so many pregnancies together, and tales of our experiences raising a large family.  She is continuing on that journey, and my path has diverged to a new direction.  As I drove home, I repeatedly looked up to heaven and asked, 

"Really God?  Do I really have to face this now?  Do I really have to endure this test where I learn to accept that I will have no more children, and walk alongside my friend and celebrate that she gets to continue this journey and live a life similar to the one I dreamed of for myself?  I can handle other people being pregnant.  But, this one is really close to me.  This is going to require me to actually let go of my own desires."  I argued, "But, it is too soon.  I am still grieving.  I don't want to let go of this desire now."

As I stood in the kitchen, cooking vegetables on the stove, God spoke to my heart.

"Yes, now."

So, I cried.

I cried because the truth stands alone.  I must deny all of my desires if I am going to truly follow God's plan for my life.  It is not easy.  Actually, it is quite difficult.  My entitlements have been strong.  Letting go of them leaves me weak and vulnerable.  

I feel vulnerable.

I also feel peace.

It is Ok if I am vulnerable in this life's journey.  I have no reason to fear.  God is in control.

                 

      

She Would Have Been 9 Today...

I lost my innocence about life 9 years ago today. Our first born baby....our daughter Mackenzie.....arrived stillborn. At this anniversary of her birth & death each year, I am flooded with the memories and emotions of that day. Some describe the feeling as bittersweet. Bitter because losing a child is a tragedy. Sweet because she brought me into motherhood. My husband & I were only 25 years old when our lives were changed forever. [She arrived on my husband's 25th birthday] I am so thankful to God for every moment I had with her.

I was eager to start a family. Motherhood was a strong desire for me even during my college years. As we planned our wedding, I also added plans for our first child. 25 years old.....the year 2000.....didn't that seem like a really cool time to start a family? Women used to collect household goods in a "Hope Chest" for their marriage....shortly after our wedding, I started collecting baby items. I kept them in the closet, in a box that my husband affectionately named "Project Baby 2000." I wanted to get pregnant in August. I thought being pregnant from August to May was the ideal time. My irregular cycles did not cooperate, so we had to aim for September instead. I read so many pregnancy books, pouring over the details of every second of development, and anxiously tried to calculate the absolute earliest day I could get a pregnancy test to register. My impatience got the best of me, and I went in for a blood test even before a urine test could register. It was negative. Bummer. Maybe next month... until my cycle was later than usual...the HPT was positive! We were so surprised, because we had already accepted that it didn't happen, so we would have to try again next cycle. My husband was studying when I gave him the news. He was so shocked. His reaction was, "I was just sitting here working on my math homework, and now we are going to have a baby! Wow!"

I had a pretty normal pregnancy. I scheduled my first prenatal appointment immediately, shared the exciting news with our family, friends, and coworkers, and browsed the baby aisle every time I went to the store. I had all-day "morning" sickness the entire first trimester. I am suspicious it was worsened by my job. I worked in biomedical research, and my line of work involved cell culture from mouse organs. Let's just say that those sights and smells were a real trigger! I spent a lot of time gagging and heaving in the lab. Cheeseburgers and Coke were the only things that would settle my stomach. I ate them practically every day. My boss assured me that cheeseburgers covered all the food groups, with the meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and the bun! Each prenatal visit, Dr. S would ask me if I was feeling any movement. Each time I would report no. I didn't report feeling movement until I was 18 weeks along. I laugh at myself over that experience. I had actually been feeling Mackenzie move for almost a month prior to that, but I did not realize it. I kept excusing away the sensation of butterflies in my stomach, as I was just excited about having a baby. Then, at 18 weeks, I was sitting at my desk concentrating on work when I had the sensation again. I had not even been thinking about the pregnancy, so it wasn't that I was just excited! When I realized that I was the feeling of the baby moving, I had a good laugh, because I had been feeling those movements for a month, but I kept telling the doctor I wasn't feeling anything.

I could not wait to learn the gender of the baby. I did not have a gender preference, but I had a strong need to know all the details I could get my hands on! I had my first ultrasound at 10 weeks. I made sure to tell the tech that if there was any way to identify the gender, I wanted to know. She laughed and told us that the baby was just too small to see anything yet. I had my first anatomical ultrasound at 21 weeks, but the baby kept her legs crossed and would not cooperate with gender identification. I was so disappointed that I almost cried. I had dreams at night...nightmares really....that even after delivery no one would tell me the gender of the baby! The only glitch I had with this pregnancy was that I had a false positive result on the alpha-fetal-protein screen, which indicated I might have an increased risk for Downs Syndrome. We went for genetics counseling and learned that we did not have a risk factor of a family history of Downs Syndrome, but we did have a family history of twins (which we knew already). I was given the option to have an amniocentesis to tell for sure, and a focused ultrasound to look for physical traits of Downs Syndrome, such as an elongated femur (thigh bone), cleft palate, and/or thicker skin folds at the back of the neck. We chose to have the focused ultrasound, but opted against the amniocentesis due to the miscarriage risk of that procedure. I wanted all the data I could safely obtain about our baby, so that I could prepare myself and seek resources for whatever we were dealing with...but we were going to take her any way that we could get her! The focused ultrasound revealed a healthy baby GIRL! I was so excited to know her gender. The doctor had difficulty getting good views of her heart, so we returned a month later for another ultrasound. Her heart was fine and she was still a girl. We had settled on her name, so we called her Mackenzie from that point forward.

Mackenzie was active in the womb and quite a kicker! She responded strongly to her Daddy. Every time he put his hand on my belly, she would kick it. I felt her jump once when the dog barked. We played music in the lab at work, and one day we were listening to the song "We Will Rock You" by Queen. Each time there was a strong drum beat, Mackenzie would imitate the beat with her kicks. I brushed it off at first, but her pattern continued. My coworkers pushed repeat on that song a dozen times, and we all enjoyed feeling her kick me to the beat of that song. That night at home, I showed my husband what she was doing. He is a fan of drums and of Queen, so he replied, "That's MY girl!" To this day, we think of Mackenzie every time we hear that song.

Another fun memory I have of that pregnancy is the day I had the glucose tolerance test. To complete this test, I had to go to the lab and pick up a sugar drink, down the drink, return exactly 1 hour later and have my blood drawn to see how well my body managed the sugar load. My workplace was in the building next door to the clinic, so I was able to go pick up the drink, return to work, and then return to the lab at the scheduled time. My drink was cola-flavored! My husband decided to make a fun game out of it. He bought a Coke and chugged it at the same time I chugged my glucola drink, racing to see who could finish first! That turned a yucky experience into a good laugh!

We had a good time in childbirth preparation class, a breastfeeding basics class, and a baby boot-camp class. Even though I saw a video of 3 different births, I still could not wrap my mind around just how that baby was going to get out of my body! That seemed impossible at the time! The instructor of the breastfeeding class shocked us all with some very graphic, very private pictures of her most recent delivery. That didn't help my disbelief! We went through a "mock labor" in childbirth prep class, practicing breathing techniques with an ice cube in hand. I am not sure how much preparation that ice cube provided, but it sure gave us a lot of good laughs! The instructor did deliver an amazing lesson during those classes. She had us list our priorities in childbirth...all the things that were important to us...epidural, completely natural, vaginal, c-section, water delivery, music, nurse, doc, birthing ball, etc....and we crossed so many off the list over time, leaving only the ones that really mattered most. That exercise showed each of us where our priorities were for our upcoming deliveries. By the end of the lesson, everyone had the same two answers as to what mattered most of all--a healthy Mom & a healthy baby!

I had plenty of Braxton Hicks contractions in the last trimester, but none of those "practice" contractions did anything to progress my body into labor. I was checked at my 39 week prenatal appointment, and learned that my cervix was not dilating or effacing at all. My coworkers had made guesses as to when Mackenzie would be born. That Friday we all commented that I would surely deliver her that weekend, so they didn't expect to see me at work on Monday. I went to bed Friday night, feeling her move and kick as usual.

We were being lazy Saturday morning, lounging around the house and moving slowly into our day. I sat down at the computer to email my Mom & sisters and give them the daily report that I was not in labor yet. I decided to take a break and get something to drink. As I was walking across the living room toward the kitchen, I was overcome with a horrible, paralyzing feeling of panic.....I had not felt Mackenzie move all morning long! That was one of my four criteria from the doctor for labor & delivery....1) bleeding, 2) water breaking, 3) contractions getting closer/stronger, & 4) no movement. I emailed my Mom about it and she replied that babies often slow down in activity before labor. She asked if I was worried. Yes I was. I decided to take a shower, drink some juice, and call the hospital. The nurse told me to drink some juice (because the sugar can boost the baby into action), and come on in to be evaluated. As we drove to the hospital, I secretly hoped I would be going into labor, but I was certain they would tell me all was well, no labor, and send me back home.

The nurses later told me that they just knew something was wrong from the tone of my voice on the phone, and the look on my face. I thought this was odd, because I thought I was doing a good job of keeping calm. I really had no thoughts of impending doom. I was too innocently-minded to even consider the possibilities. I was a little embarrassed to be there and not be in labor. The nurse put me in a triage room and took all my vitals. She could not find the baby's heartbeat with the Doppler. We joked with her that that was common, because Mackenzie ran from the Doppler most of the time. The nurse tried a second Doppler, with no luck. She told us that if the baby would not cooperate with the Doppler, she would just wheel in the ultrasound machine. I laid on that exam table completely unsuspecting anything to be wrong. A medical student came in with her head resident, to do the ultrasound. The resident walked her through the process, being real careful to not divulge any concerns. They complained about the old equipment that was hard to read. The resident then informed us she was going to get her attending to see if she could read it better. The attending came in and the resident performed the ultrasound for her. I only remember them talking about going up the spine to get a clear look at the heart. I continued to lay there in innocence, waiting for the time when they would turn the screen so I could see it too. The attending physician placed her hand on my wrist and softly said, "I am sorry, but your baby's heart has stopped beating." WHAT? My first thought was, "Ok, then fix it." My next thought was the full-blown realization of what she was saying. I sat upright and said, "Are you trying to tell me that my baby is DEAD?" Yes. I immediately started crying. I cried so hard, yet I had no tears. I was in immediate shock. They tried to comfort me...hugs, a box of tissue....they explained that they called Dr. S and he was on his way over.....they were going to move me to a room so he could assess me more and we would have privacy to phone our families. They could not (or would not) offer any explanation as to what happened that my baby was dead in the womb 3 days before her due date. Another Family Practice doctor arrived to offer condolences, comfort, but no ideas as to what went wrong. We managed to go out into the hallway and call our Moms and let them know Mackenzie was dead. My parents jumped in their truck and immediately started the 4-hour drive to come be with us.

Dr. S arrived soon. He walked through the door with the look of sadness and grief that only comes from someone who has walked in our shoes. He understood our pain, unfortunately, as he & his wife had also lost a baby. The first thing I said to him was, "I had no idea this could happen." It was true. I was in complete denial that anything would ever go wrong. You get pregnant and have a baby. It is as simple as that. Right? There is even a section about fetal demise in the womb, in the What to Expect When You're Expecting book, but I skipped that part. He comforted me with a hug, and then the tears poured out in buckets. The nightmare was true. Dr. S confirmed it. Our daughter was dead. He explained that at this late stage of the pregnancy, the problem is usually caused by an umbilical cord accident. He might find more answers at her birth, and also with an autopsy, but sometimes there are no answers at all. I asked him how we were going to get her out. I was immediately creeped out by the fact that I was carrying a dead baby inside my body. The options are to have labor induced, or to wait for labor to start on its own (most women will go into labor naturally within 3 days of the baby's death). I didn't wait for all the options, as soon as he said he could admit me to the hospital and induce me that night, I said Ok.

Time passed as the administrative process progressed to get me admitted and induced. My parents, my middle sister, and my mother-in-law all arrived. There was lots of uncontrollable crying. By the time the first dose of induction medication was given, I was in a puffy-eyed, cried-myself-silly state of calmness....and shock. My mind was fuzzy and I could barely process the reality I was dealing with. The nurse gave me some Tylenol for my headache, and I felt no pain. The plan was for our family to go to our house and get some rest. Induction (when I was showing no signs of labor) could take days, so there was no reason for them to wait around and stay up all night. Dr. S suggested that as soon as we were sure I was tolerating the induction medicine, and contractions were started, that they drug me heavily and give me an epidural so that I might sleep through labor. There were no concerns about medications affecting the baby, as she was already dead. There was a delay in getting the epidural due to some emergency c-sections that night, but it didn't matter to me. My nurse did a fine job of keeping me drugged. I am not entirely sure if it was all the IV meds, or the grief that kept me from feeling the full effects of labor. In hindsight, that labor experience was very mild. Even the anesthesiologist commented that I was managing my contractions well, and asked if I was sure I even wanted the epidural...I didn't care if I was doing well or not, there was no prize at the end, I was going to be empty-handed...the nurse pulled him aside and in no time he changed his approach and cheerfully gave me an epidural and his condolences. My husband collapsed in a nearby pull-out chair. We slept through the rest of labor. Dr. S came in to check on me around 8am, and we were all surprised to learn that I was fully dilated, and starting to feel some pressure to push. That induction only took 12 hours. We called our Moms to come to the hospital for the birth, and started trying to find a rhythm for pushing.

Since Mackenzie was my first baby, I had no idea what to expect for labor and delivery. Clearly, my experience was not normal. It is more difficult to push out a dead baby. I've heard it explained that live babies can "help" in their delivery. I do not know if that is true. I do know from my own experiences that mental strength plays a large role in delivery. I was mentally weak for Mackenzie's delivery. I was doped up so heavily that it took me 3 days to get out of the IV-medication fog. All the things that I had learned in childbirth preparation went right out the window. Those classes could not prepare me for this. It was not a "normal" delivery. I focused on the wisdom of my doctor and found comfort in the support of my husband & Mom. Dr. S gave us the plan for breathing, pushing, and positioning. I listened and obeyed. My legs were still numb, so I had help holding them in place. Pushing was work. I was in such a fog that I didn't care. As soon as her head emerged, we had all the answers. The umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck twice. It was so tight, that Dr. S had to cut it just so I could finish pushing her out. The nurse handled baby Mackenzie so gently, as if she were a living baby. I cherish that level of respect she gave our little girl. She put on a diaper, wrapped her in a blanket, put a little hat on her head, and brought her over for us to hold. She was beautiful. She had blonde hair, her Daddy's eyes, and my mouth. Her legs, fingers, and toes were so long. Her bottom was dense and heavy. At first her skin was warm and extremely pale. Her lips were crimson red.

Soon after, her body cooled off. Blood pooled to the surface of her skin, giving her more of that bruised, dead look of a corpse. Her eyes were dark and cloudy, from the absence of life. Her skull bones moved around and scraped against each other, as there was no fluid to provide cushion and structure. We agreed to an autopsy, hoping for more answers. We held her in our arms, cherished our very brief time together as a family, and took pictures to help keep our memories alive.

Our state does not provide a birth certificate for a stillborn baby. There is a death certificate. I struggle with the concept that her birth is not acknowledged, but we are required to dispose of her body through proper burial means. Our society will acknowledge that she is a dead human being, but they refuse to acknowledge that she was ever an alive human being. The ache of empty arms was so great. It was so hard to hand her body over to the proper authorities and go home with a broken heart.

Grieving is very hard. I tried "actively grieving" thinking I could take matters into my own hands. I read a bunch of books, pamphlets, and internet sites about the stages of grief, and losing a baby. I cried constantly. I opened up and shared her story and my feelings to anyone who would listen. We found a support group for grieving parents to be very helpful. We met others who were walking in our shoes. It was hard for me to be a mother who did not have any living children. I felt robbed of my joy.

My husband and I threw ourselves into our jobs, to help us manage one day at a time. I was drawn back to God because I knew I could not handle that level of pain and emotion on my own...I knew His love would sustain me. I prayed constantly for strength. I did not understand why Mackenzie had to die like that. But, I did understand who was in control. Her short life already had great purpose--She came to raise our hearts to heaven... When it game to grieving, the saying "It takes one to know one" proved true. People who had buried a child were able to bring us the most comfort. They understood that level of pain. I would not wish that experience and knowledge on anyone.

My broken heart began to heal later, after I was able to deliver living children. Living children reminded me that Life is for the Living. Mackenzie's death certainly re-structured my priorities. Our living children have given me a sense of purpose again. It seems that there will always be a hole in my heart where my firstborn daughter belongs. Nothing can take her place. As each year passes, we consider what might have been. I say to my husband, "Can you believe we would have been the parents of a 9-year-old?" He replies, "Has it been 9 years already? Wow!" It feels as if it were just yesterday.

Some people only dream of angels.....we held one in our arms!

Her tiny feet left large footprints on our hearts!

Hot Topics: Halloween

Do you "do" Halloween?

I had to stifle a laugh when I was asked this question at AWANA last week. It just came across as funny to me at the time. But, I fully understood the deeper message written in the simple question.

Halloween is a tough holiday for Christian families.

There are so many ways to have fun. Kids love candy and dressing up in costumes. Many Americanized Halloween traditions involve kid-friendly activities.

But, historically, Halloween is a dark, pagan holiday. Its roots are not kid-friendly.

Sincere Christians are divided on how to handle Halloween. I understand their struggle. Is it Ok to participate in the fun? Or should we be turning away from the evil-rooted holiday entirely? I have heard excellent, intelligent, Biblical teachings on this topic, which landed across the spectrum. I appreciate the churches who hold community outreaches on Halloween...for the safety of the children...and also because of the way that they shine the love of Christ on such a dark date. I completely respect the differing decisions my friends have made for their own families on this subject. I certainly do not have the answer.

A few years ago, I really struggled with what to teach my own children about Halloween, and how to participate...or not. I want to live a life that is honoring to God. So, of course, I do not want to celebrate evil.

All of the Halloween traditions I experienced as a child centered on the kid-friendly activities. To denounce that for my own children, seemed to only punish the children. Adults don't care if we miss getting to dress up, go to parties, or receive candy that day. How do I explain to my own children that Halloween is such an evil holiday, when all they see are pumpkins and candy?

I did not have the answers. So, I decided to just start with honesty.

When Jersey #1 was 6 years old, and Jersey #2 was 5, I explained to them that Halloween was not a Christian holiday. I told them about some of the traditions I enjoyed as a kid (which were some of the same they had enjoyed in previous years). I explained some of the darker traditions that they had not experienced, and some of the original history behind Halloween. Jersey #1 listened intently to all that I was saying. Then, in a single sentence, she summed up what became our family's approach to Halloween...

"Mom, we don't worship those evil things. We are just a family who likes candy."


Now, why didn't I think of that? Things are so much clearer through the eyes of a child. Jersey #1 boldly shared her new Halloween knowledge with total strangers. While waiting for an oil change for our vehicle, she informed a man that Halloween was not a Christian holiday. This man...who obviously knew exactly what she was saying...did not skip a beat. He answered her frankly, "No, it is not. But, you can still do fun things that are not evil." She smiled in return and said, "Yes, like eating a lot of candy."

Thanks to that wise, sweet 6-year old, I am now at peace with how our family handles Halloween.

We certainly "do" Halloween...

My goal is to give my children the knowledge that God's ways are better than what the rest of the world has to offer.

We do not live in darkness on Halloween.

We buy pumpkins from fundraisers that support Christian ministries, taking the time to discuss what each ministry is doing for the community...

We spend time together as a family, decorating and carving pumpkins, because time together is so important to build healthy, strong relationships...
(there is even a nice lesson about how we are like a pumpkin: God picks us up, cleans out our sins, and sets us up to shine light into the world)

This year, we delivered jack-o-lantern pizzas to some elderly folks in our church, to bring them a meal and check on their health and well-being...

The kids dressed up in bright, fun costumes and went to a trunk-or-treat carnival event at a nearby church. They were able to dress up, play games, eat candy, and enjoy fellowship with other Christians in our community...

In the end, what I have learned about life so far, is that Christians can share the love of Christ any day of the year, regardless of how the dates on the calendar are classified by the world...

We choose to live a life full of Christian traditions.

We also enjoy celebrating secular holidays...even ones that may have dark histories.

We do not worship evil things. Our children know the difference.

And, yes, we are a family that likes candy!