A Child Called Grace

When she was born, 6 lbs of intensity, I marveled that such a tiny new baby girl could be that alert... Particularly in contrast to her twin brother, who preferred to sleep the day away and remained in that drowsy state for the whole first month of life.  She eyed me with suspicion, watching every move I made, like she didn't quite believe I knew what I was doing.  She never slept more than a few hours at a time, afraid she might miss something important, I suppose.  She resisted any attempt at scheduling or even a loosely defined routine, and insisted that we all follow her lead. As a newborn. My husband said often, "It's Gracie's world, we just live in it."

Fast forward 3 years...

This morning, Gracie has been in the time-out chair twice, sent to her room once, and it is not even 9am.  This is a typical beginning to our day.  And I am, as usual, already longing for bedtime. Don't get me wrong, I adore this child.  I love her spunk, her mischievous grin, the way her long blonde hair is always a mess in the morning... But she flat wears me out.  Our days are peppered with battles, some I choose to avoid, some I insist upon winning, and some that I lose hands down.  Sure, there are moments of fun and laughter, but at the end of the day those moments often seem eclipsed by the difficult ones.

I have said this before, but in case you didn't know, I am not exactly good at dwelling on the positives.  I tend to be a little cynical in my thinking, and can easily get swept away by negative emotions.  I work on it.  All the time.  And I know God gave us Gracie for that very reason.  She makes me face my own heart-issues every single day.

When Michael and I were discussing baby names, we would often text options to one another during the day while we were both at work.  During one of those "baby-naming sessions", we volleyed a few ideas back and forth.. Emma Claire? Ella? How about Analise?  All beautiful, but they just didn't feel right... So we took a little break.  A little while later I was sending a text to him at the exact same moment I was receiving one from him.  Both texts read the same:  "Gracie".  Coincidence? No way.  I am convinced God gave us her name.  And now I know why.

The joke I have made for the last couple of years is that we named her well, because she requires a lot of grace.  But as I have struggled through trying to be the mommy God calls me to be to a child who truly believes she should be in charge of the world, I have come to realize that her name is a reminder of how much I need grace.  Grace to parent beyond my comfort zone, grace to cover where I fall short as a mom, grace to give to a child who is so much like her mother in so many ways.  Her name reminds me of how I can not only help her become who God created her to be, but also how I will become the Mommy he created me to be.  It isn't just about how strong-willed and stubborn she is... It is about revealing all the yuck still in my own heart.. The pride, the temper, the lack of patience and self-control... The need for grace.

Being a mom is not for wimps, for sure.  But I am beginning to see a bigger picture... A beautiful portrait of how God uses all things to accomplish His purposes.  Even time-out chairs and potty training.  And I, for one, am so grateful He works in even those fleeting moments and seasons of our lives that seem more tedious and mundane than eternal.

Simply and Honestly

An author I respect once said "Write in a way that scares you a little."  That is how I write.  I can't help it, it is just what comes out.  But it is also the reason I don't post or publish as much as I would like to.  Because it scares me a little.  More than a little, really.  I have no desire to write what someone else wants to hear.  I have no desire to try and pretend I have it all together and know all (or any) of the answers. I do have a compelling desire to be real, authentic, and at times, painfully honest in my writing.  The problem with that is that once I click "publish" it is out there.  For anyone and everyone to see.  And that is when the fear sets in.  Some toxic combination of my old fear of rejection, need for approval, and desire to just be "liked" that halts the flow of words and leaves me unsure.  Because maybe I'm not as cheerful, or as funny, or as smart, or as "glass-half-full" as I feel I should be?  I know this is a result of unhealthy comparison... A trap that gets me more often than I like to admit.

I compare my writing style with other bloggers.  I compare my outlook on parenting with other moms.  I compare my attitudes with other sisters in Christ.  I compare my home with the one across the street.  I compare my body type with other women at the pool.  And somehow, someway, I always come up lacking... And I already know that comparison is a trap... And it is an area of my life I have actually experienced some victory in over the years... So how does it slip back in so silently and trip me up?

To choose to be real and authentic in my life, my writing, and my relationships, I have learned, is to leave myself open to criticism.  It is far safer to play along with everyone else and pretend... So it is fear that keeps me playing the game.  And fear that drives me to compare.  And the enemy of my soul pounces on that fear every time.

In my writing, it is easy to try so hard to be encouraging that I stop being honest about how hard life can be sometimes.  I want to be uplifting and positive, but ya know, some days just don't leave me in that mindset.  It is often the writing, the spilling my guts for the world to see, that transforms.  The words have power.  But only when they are real words.  Not something I concocted to garner praise or admiration.  The passage that comes to mind as I think about this is in Matthew 6... Where Jesus warned us not to do or say things just to gain man's applause, pretending to be good or compassionate as long as someone is watching (or reading).  Verse 6 says it this way: "Here's what I want you to do:  Find a quiet, secluded place so you won't be tempted to role-play before God.  Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage."  (And here's the best part) "The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense His grace."

Of course I realize that He probably was not referring to blogging.  I get that.  It is a passage about honest prayer.  But His Word is alive... and this is what He showed me this morning as I prayed through the restlessness of knowing that this silly little blog is His place for me right now, and not knowing how to approach it in a way that somehow reflects not only the real me, but Him in me.  "Just be there... as simply and honestly as you can manage."  That is where He changes my focus. That is where I find grace.

So, you brave readers, I ask that you read and give grace... To a girl who just struggles to find the answers like everyone else, and who sometimes will get it wrong.  I am no theologian.  I am no teacher.  I am no expert on anything other than failure.  I make no claim to have a clue about anything other than what God does in my own life.  And I am so thankful He even reaches down to work on this broken vessel that should have been tossed out with the trash a long time ago.  He is good at that, you know. Taking something that others would have discarded and making something beautiful.  Reason enough to stop playing the comparison game and just let Him continue working on me, right?

(And now I sit, wondering if it is bad form to end a blog with a question.  Sigh.  Progress, not perfection.)

Let's Be Weird

Busy.  We all are, aren't we?  I refuse to make to-do lists anymore, because frankly, they make me cry.  If you have kids your day probably looks a lot like mine, even if you don't have 7 of them.  Wake up by 6am, try and get everyone fed, clean, dressed, and out the door by 7:15, then you go to 2 or 3 (or 4) schools to drop them off, head back home, turn on Disney Jr. for the little ones and try to get a shower.  Unload the dishwasher, start the laundry, clean up the make-up that 3 yr old darling got into while taking said shower.  Try to get some make-up on my own face in the process. Ok, now it is 9am, I am already exhausted and ready for a nap that is definitely not going to happen.  You get the idea, and I bet you can relate. But I just figured out something that kind of rocked my world.

Our women's ministry director recently gave me a book called "Weird:  Because Normal Isn't Working".  I started reading it and one of the first things the author talks about is being "addicted" to adrenaline.  Ok, when I think of adrenaline, I think of sky diving, roller coasters, and riding in the car while my husband is driving (haha).  I don't think of car lines, laundry, errands, homework and ball schedules.  But as I read on, I realized that I kind of run on adrenaline ALL DAY.  Every day.  I can't be still, slow down, or relax because there is always the next thing to do, the next place to go, the next mini-emergency to tend to.  Now, this is probably true for most of us moms, but some of you know how to turn it off.  I don't.  Case in point:  My mom got the twins yesterday and took them to spend the night at her house.  And I was thinking "Yes! I get a break! I can relax while the big kids are at school."  And now it is 8:25am and I have been just as busy as I am when they are here... What the heck??  So, I think I may be addicted to the busy. Like I don't know what to do with myself if I am not meeting every urgent demand all day long. One of the exercises this guy (you know, the author of the Weird book) was asked to do by his counselor was to be still.  For 5 minutes.  Without doing anything.  He couldn't do it.  Neither could I.  I don't mean wouldn't do it.  Could.  Not.  Do.  It.

In fact, this morning, while I sit in an empty house with nothing on my calendar until school gets out, my mind is racing with things to fill the hours.  Hours that seem wasted if I am not "doing" something.  But I am wondering if I shouldn't just make another cup of coffee and go outside and sit on the swing and read a book?  (maybe not the Weird book, I don't need any more paradigm shifts today.)  Maybe I'll try it.  It will be "step 1" of my recovery process.  Sit.  Relax.  Listen to birds sing.

Let's be Weird.  Because normal isn't working.  (book by Craig Groeschel, also author of The Christian Atheist.)

Afternoon at Costco

Yes, this could be a book in itself.  But since I only have a few minutes, I will keep it concise.  My husband and I will often brave the crowds at Costco or Sam's Club on Sunday afternoon with the kids.  After all, who doesn't love cheap pizza and countless aisles of everything you never needed?   Today was particularly interesting because I noticed something I had never noticed before... That everyone there is just like us.  I was literally laughing out loud in the dining area listening to all of the dads fussing at their children to stop whining, be still, eat his/her lunch, leave their brother/sister alone, share their drink, etc.  And I watched with amusement as all the mommies did exactly what I was doing.  They calmly ignored their own unhappy and noisy children in favor of the people-watching that I myself was indulging in.  I would occasionally make eye contact with another mom and she would grin, and I would grin back, as if to say, "Isn't this just infinitely better than making sandwiches at home while daddy watches tv or naps on the couch?"  It was like a secret telepathic language, I tell ya.

So we eat, and then my husband says to me "Why do we ever think this is a good idea?  They act like this every time we bring them."  To which I reply, "They act like this 100% of the time, no matter where we are...  they are 3.  This is how 3 year olds act." The thing is, for me, just a change of scenery can make it more bearable.  Plus I didn't have to cook or clean up after lunch, which is really nice on a Sunday.  Because frankly, by the time we get to church in the morning, I feel like I've worked an 8 hour day already.  So I will gratefully endure an hour or so of walking through Costco looking at garden hoses and rechargeable batteries and tools and flashlights and patio furniture and sunglasses.  In heels.  And I will happily ignore my 3 year old shouting ugly words (his favorites are booty and doody) and the sideways glances I get from shoppers with no children in their cart.  (The ones with kids of their own usually just chuckle sympathetically.)  I did have to intervene when Gracie decided to bite Hudson on the arm.  But I did it quietly with the "inside-of-the-arm pinch" that my mom used on me when I was acting up during church. Along with a very scary whisper, "We. Don't. Bite."

And now, we are home, with our new garden hose, and the children and Daddy are napping peacefully in their beds while I sit here and write about nothing, which, in reality is everything.  I would call this SUCCESS.  

Happy Sunday, friends.  Peace, love and Costco.

Two Years...

Long enough to learn that we are not perfect, after all...
Long enough to see that we are going to get it wrong more than we get it right,

Long enough to know which buttons NOT to push (but not long enough to resist the urge to push them anyway)...

Long enough believe we have what it takes to beat the odds...
Long enough to realize there is no one I'd rather fight with, play with, relax with, cuddle with, work with, build a family and life with, or be in love with...

Long enough to know without a doubt there is only YOU for me...

 forever and always.

Happy anniversary (April 17) to my wonderfully simple and straightforward man... You are amazing in your quiet way.  I am truly blessed to be your wife, and to share this messy life with YOU.

How to Fight

I don't know about you, but I don't like conflict.  I hide, run, over-react, shut down... Sundays always bring some kind of conflict, it seems.  I guess it  is just a hectic day, from the time the alarm goes off until we go to bed, and usually it is the day that my husband and I will find ourselves at odds.  Not every week, but if it is gonna happen, it is gonna be on Sunday.  Kind of sad, too, since we spend Sunday morning at church helping to lead a marriage class. But, hey, we never claimed to know what we are doing.  That's why we use a dvd and a study guide written by someone else.

So, tonight I am hiding.  Behind the computer.  Nothing major going on here, just the tension of trying to raise kids and work and keep our sanity and our sense of humor (which seems to disappear around 5pm most days).  And I know with a simple acknowledgement, just a few words, maybe a touch, I could make it right.  But I don't want to, at least not yet.  Not because I like the tension.  I just don't want to be mature.  I want to be selfish and tell myself all the reasons I am right and he is wrong.  


Sounds pretty silly and childish, huh?

Maybe instead, I will sit here until I can see clearly what is important.  Because even now I know it probably has little to do with whatever we argued about...  This is God-designed, this conflict... this constant problem of just being so different.  Yes, marriage was designed to have conflict.  Otherwise, why would He have made us so differently??

How do you fight fair when you just want to be heard and understood by someone who just wants to be heard and understood?  When you both talk, you both shout, and no one is listening?  The simple answer is to just stop... To stop talking and just listen... to the words, yes, but more than that to the heart behind the words.  I am so bad at this.  I have good intentions, always.  But in the midst of hurt feelings and harsh words my good intentions fly away like dust.  And my only intent becomes to protect or defend myself.  In defensive mode, I am really not hearing anything other than the voice of my own fear.

Yes, this is all stemming from a very minor argument, but the principles play out in every conflict, large or small.  Sometimes I wonder if God just gives us these "opportunities" to practice the stuff we learn while leading these marriage studies.  If so, I guess I should be grateful for the hard moments.

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others, 
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.


Perspective is really everything, isn't it?

Marriage is not easy.  (Is that an obvious statement, or what?) But it draws us closer to the One who created us male and female... And if we really strive to serve one another as unto Christ, won't the small things be just that?  Small?  And won't the motivation to love remain even when the conflict comes?  A theory worth testing...

I should be fighting to hear and understand... not to be heard and understood.  Why do I always get it backwards?

Getting it right is always a choice that requires caring for someone else more than I care for me... And trusting in the only One who never fails when failure seems to be my middle name.  To drop the self-protective defenses and just love from the center of who I am.  It sounds so easy and so pretty. But it seems to come forth only from tears and ugliness.  This whole transformation process can be pretty painful to a stubborn, prideful girl like me.

Watch what God does, and then you do it, like children who learn proper behavior from their parents.  Mostly what God does is love you.  Keep company with Him and learn a life of love.  Observe how Christ loved us.  His love was not cautious but extravagant.  He didn't love in order to get something from us but to give everything of Himself to us.  Love like that.  
Ephesians 5:1-2

Teenagers, Tweens, and Toddlers... Oh my!

Some days I really don't like my job.  I mean, I love the people I work with, although they do tend to be a little demanding, and rarely show any appreciation.  Also they are a little on the whiny side.  They stress me out and worry me to death and almost never do what they are told.  Yep, I am a MOM.  And I wouldn't change a thing.  They are imperfect little reminders of my own sin nature.  Yes, they are imperfect.  Just like their mom.  So the things that make me the most frustrated with them are the very things that frustrate me about ME.   And trying to get to the character root of the behavior issues requires time, consistency, and patience... All areas I am sorely lacking in.  But it is their hearts I am after, not just "good" behavior.

So, when the 3 year old darling starts picking fights with me, I must discipline myself to remain calm, loving, patient, and firm....

And when the 13 year old beauty acts like a beast to her little brother, I must remind her to be kind, and that words are for building, not tearing down...

And when brothers fight and aggravate (a constant in our home), I must not allow my own anxiety level to rise with theirs...

And when the 16 year old drives away I must remember Whose he is and turn my worries into prayers instead of lectures about speed limits, school zones and crossing guards... (I actually gave the same lecture to Chandler 3 times this morning, and even followed him to the car.  He just grinned in that "Ok, Mom, I got it." way.  He seems more grown up than me somedays.)

I guess this morning, what I am thinking about is this: It is Me, Myself, and I that need the discipline... Because if I can discipline myself, then cultivating their character will come a little more naturally.  If I can choose a God-parent perspective instead of a Kari perspective then the heart issues are clearer and the less-than-perfect behavior is recognized as a mere symptom.  Maybe by the time they are grown I'll have it all figured out.  With this many kids I'll have plenty of opportunity to practice!