resilient

Few parents would argue that raising kids changes your life. 

I am student to each one of my sons. The lessons continue unfolding daily. But today I am thinking of Joshua. He is seen pictured above eating breakfast on his 12th birthday. Yes, it's birthday cake.

As I muse what Joshua is teaching me, I can sum it up in one word. 

Resilience. 

It’s a $50 word that simply means the ability to endure even thrive. Academics in social work and psychology write 5,000 word papers describing and dissecting what makes one child survive while others seem to whither in the face of hardship. 

At 45 with peri-menopause, joint pain and faltering memory already pressing in on all sides, I don’t feel so resilient. Yet, as I study the topic, I am reminded of how God has used trials to mold me, shape me and change me. 

I learned to believe that because I desire it so earnestly for my children. I am desperate to believe the trials they face will be used for good by God. If I don’t believe that for myself, I cannot truly believe it for them. 

Often it is our hopes for our children that force us to look at our own crushed dreams. And as we give space to grieving those dreams, God moves in and re-frames our traumas. Our children more than any others usher us into the throne room. There we are invited to worship in God’s Presence. It is impossible to remain unaffected. 

“Resilient people do have emotional and psychological scars that they carry from their experience. They indeed struggle, but they keep going, staying engaged with life and continue to function as a part of the world. Resilience is not the ability to escape unharmed. It is the ability to thrive in spite of the odds” Tian Dayton, Ph.D. in Emotional Sobriety

33. 12 years of Joshua

twenty one

Twenty one years ago today in the wee hours of the morning, I gave Matt the elbow and woke him up to fatherhood. This is the part he had been preparing for, the drive to the hospital with me in labor. He ran every red light and drove like Mario Andretti. 

Many hours later our first son entered the world, and our lives changed forever.  

The firsttime I saw his face blazes in my memory. Although breathtaking and beautiful, his color was grayish. His first APGAR score was 2. A score below 3 requires medical attention. The nurses and doctors hovered over him for more time than I liked. By 5 minutes his score raised to 7. Miracle. 

They brought him to me. A bundle of blanket and love. Too quickly Matt took him for the famous walk to the nursery through the waiting room of desperate grandparents and even a great grandmother. 

After they sewed me up, they wheeled me through the nursery so I could see him again.  He was in the NICU and my time with him was limited. They put a hallway a mile long between us. The first time I stood up after the cesarean, I cried. But pain was not to keep me from him and I walked that hall so that I could hold him. 

His first word: ball. His first bike ride. His first loose tooth. His first broken heart. 

When he was ten, we moved to Costa Rica. He fell on a nail at the playground after we had been there only six weeks. The nail stuck in his knee, deep. Someone took us to the hospital recommended to us by the language school we attended. The doctor spoke no English. I spoke no Spanish. He came at Matthew’s knee with a needle. And even though I kept yelling, he did not stop. Body language speaks every time and I got between that crazy doctor and the needle. “You don’t do anything before you tell me what you are doing,” I said to deaf ears.

They call it a Mama Bear for a reason.

Mothers fight. Mothers fight for their children. Mothers fight for their children on their knees.

Today he turns 21. He is a man. He is a man I am proud to know. His heart, his character, his sense of humor: all of this I love.

This morning I woke up before anyone else and sat with silence and a full heart. I remembered. Moments packed in a full life. Pearls strung together on a priceless necklace called motherhood. My heart overflows with gratitude and joy streams from my eyes.

31. 21 years of Matthew

his right hand

Sometimes a word comes in chaos.

The day begins with a last minute decision to paint the foyer. Did I say last minute? We have been back from Honduras almost 6 years. The foyer needed painting before we left. We rented the house while we were gone. Upon our return we bumped up the roofline, doubled the size of the house by finishing the upstairs, renovated the kitchen and put down new hardwood floors.

“We” means Matt. 

But did we paint the foyer? “We” did not. Pencil scribbling, handprints, bumps and cracks line the walls that say welcome to our home. Welcome to our beautiful mess!

Today is the day. I want a deep and edgy blue to welcome folks into our home. Matt said, “too much.” He’d rather use a paint color we have to save bucks. More on Dave Ramsey’s influence in our marriage later. 

We end up concocting a color from near-empty paint cans in the garage. And all my decorator friends are shrieking as they read that sentence. Yes, I texted you for help but, alas, you were not available on a dime - referring to time and money in this instance. 

As I am telling Matthew, our oldest, where the drop cloths are; I am texting my Mom. She is getting a medical test and I am worried about it.

Children are running in and out of the house. Sam is asking me to play the Honey-Bee Game. I’m tripping over the paint tray. Matt is the foreman and teaching in a loud voice about paint etiquette. Paint etiquette? 

We return from swim practice with ribbons. I’m applauding Joshua and Sam for their times when I notice Joshua’s eyebrows are scowling. What’s up? I ask. 

We banter back and forth. He’s got several ribbons and earned points for his team. But not a blue ribbon is in the bunch. Every time I say a positive, he counters with a negative and minimizes his accomplishment. He wanted blue. He is a competitor. I’m a mom. I sense something deeper at work. I don’t want to rob him of his gut-response or his emotions. And I want to teach him self acceptance. He’s pretty hard on himself usually. 

I end up asking him to read Psalm 139. The first time he read it, he says he really didn’t learn anything new. He says, “You want me to read it again?” 

I nod and ask him to ask God what He wants him to know. I’m sitting at the computer doing what I tell my patients not to do. I’m googling associated conditions of this medical test. My anxiety is growing like yeast bread rising inside my chest. 

Joshua comes back to me in a few minutes. His face is soft, countenance changed. "I think it’s right here," he says and with a finger he points to verse 10. “Your right hand shall hold me.” 

Even there Your hand shall lead me. And Your right hand shall hold me.

And the Word goes in and like hands it kneads my heart. I feel the lump of anxiety deflate like so much puffed up dough. Even there. Yes, even there.

I say, “How does that make you feel?”

“Pretty good,” he says. “Like if I’m good enough to sit there in His right hand, well, I’m pretty good.”

Happiness leaks from my eyes. I hold this moment - this moment when God speaks to me from the mouth of a babe. He comes and scoops up my child and holds him. Holds her. Holds me.

beautiful

beautiful: byo͞otəfəl|

adjective

1. pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically: beautiful poetry | a beautiful young woman | the mountains were calm and beautiful.
2. of a very high standard; excellent: the house had been left in beautiful order | she spoke in beautiful English.

A friend of mine nominated me for a Beautiful Blogger Award. Thank you, Jenn LeBow of HOBWAS. It has taken me a few weeks and a moderate amount of courage to attempt to comply to the rules for the award. Here are my nominations:

1. HOBWAS.
   Jenn LeBow lived in Honduras at the same time as we did. She and her husband served in the embassy. (It is a team approach, people.) When I found out about being pregnant with Sam, I told Jenn before Matt. This should tell you where she falls on my friend list. She clearly nominated me, in part at least, out of obligation. Plus I took her with me on a silent retreat to the beach. We were only partially silent.
2. J. E. Lowder
   Jay and Laura participated in the initial Bible Study that became Fellowship Bible Church. Jay -  granddaddy, daddy, painter, bassist, philosopher - recently wrote a book. His stories are full of grace, inspiring and funny.
3. Venturing Out
   I met Marilyn in Honduras. She had a driver and bodyguard and appeared to be very mysterious. I got to know her and realized she is one of the most down to earth believers I know. I conned Marilyn into blogging. Her perspective stretches me. I need people in my life like Marilyn. You do too. 
4. Hanna Kate Flora
   I’ve never met Hanna but feel like I know her through a mutual friend. Her talent for re-claiming furniture is spotlighted on the Nate Berkus show. I live in New York City vicariously through Hanna.
5. Soup Addict
   Hungry? Check out these photos and your tongue will thank you. I read Soup Addict not just for recipes but because Soup Addict is hilarious. And I learn new words from Soup Addict like Shakshuka. It’s an Israeli egg and tomato dish. Need I say more?
6. WordGirl
   The name should give it away. I love words. I love WordGirl. If you love words, follow WordGirl on Goodreads. She does all the work and tells you what a goodread really is. Plus, she instructs me on faith, life, parenting myself and my kids
7. Living Story
   Elizabeth Turnage is passionate about story. Her approach to the throne beckons me to come. She is a mom of four, a survivor of shoulder pain and surgery and a purveyor of grace. 

Rules of the Award:

1. Copy the Beautiful Blogger Award logo and place it in your post. This may require you to use an image widget.

2.  Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog. 

3. Nominate 7 other bloggers for their own Beautiful Blogger Award.

rainbow

Lately I’ve been searching for grace. The Word of God speaks of showering grace upon us. Why is it that I act as if grace is scant?

I was on my knees in our bedroom in Honduras using my hands to gather up the fluid on the white tile floor. I spilled this “anti-aging serum” as I unpacked our bags from a trip back to the States. The magic fluid is not available for purchase in Honduras. Scant and rare, indeed, it promises a fountain of youth. And I needed it. 

This image comes to mind often when I think of my view of grace as scant. Scant is a verb. I scant grace.

I dole it out more like 5 mL of Benadryl before bed. 

Ephesians 2:7-10 says that God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus.

Nothing scant about that. Nope. Plentiful. Abundant. Overflowing in the form of a shower.

So as I have noticed this scanting of grace with others, I realize that I skimp on grace to myself. If I shower in grace, I am more likely to lavish grace on others. That’s what I want to do.

God chose beauty to remind us of grace.

Early in the history of the world after the flood, God placed a bow of colors in the sky to remind Himself of His covenant with earth. A covenant to choose grace. He will never destroy earth again by means of a flood. Instead, He will flood grace.

The rainbow appears in Scripture several more times. Ezekiel struggles to find words to describe his vision of Heaven and God on the throne. He says, “Like the appearance of a rainbow in the clouds on a rainy day, so was the radiance around him. This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the LORD. When I saw it, I fell facedown.” Ezekiel 1:28

The radiance of God is like a rainbow. 

The representation of the shower of His grace looks like a rainbow. And when I see it, I have to fall to my knees and receive. I open my hands and let the abundance weight them down.

18. rainbow of grace

Grace is a woman with tender touch and strong, sinewy arms. She is a warrior for righteousness. Grace is not lithe and fragile, nor is she abrupt or crude, and at the moment of reception, her presence is fiercely kind. She receives us, but without negotiation and with no inclination to put us on comfortable footing. Instead, she takes utter charge of our being by throwing her arms around us in delight at our homecoming. Dan Allender