Let it "Fall"

     This morning started out like many of my mornings do.  My alarm went off at 6:10.  I hit snooze.  My alarm went off at 6:20, and I drug myself out of bed.  I went into the kitchen and started making wheat toast with Nutella for my kids.  This was my secret weapon to get them to rise from their beds whilst it was still dark outside - Nutella for breakfast.  So basically dessert for breakfast (with whole wheat bread to make me feel a little better about myself).  Then I went to wake the 3 school kids, and my secret weapon worked.  One child drilled me about whether or not the bread had "seeds" in it, and I assured him it did not.  So they ate.  And then they started fighting.  First thing in the morning.  Before I can even see straight I am in tears because my beloved offspring cannot seem to get along - ever.  I pull myself together and pack three lunches, and toddler arises from her bed.  I present her with her dessert for breakfast, and she has a total crazy person come apart because I had the nerve to cut the toast in half.  Obviously this is the unforgivable sin of mothering so she throws her plate on the floor in a blind rage.  Nutella lands face down on kitchen floor.  So she got to clean it up and no longer got any dessert for breakfast.  Oh, did I mention that yesterday I picked up a large order of frozen cookie dough from the kids' school fundraiser?  So I had to take some stuff out of the freezer in the basement to have room for it.  I was rushing to get Ansley to Girl Scouts when I brought it home.  I pulled out a Ziploc bag with a frozen duck that was way past useful and a bag of frozen strawberries that were freezer burnt and sat them on the stove next to the fridge.  Guess who forgot to go back and throw them away?  So when I went downstairs this morning to get something for the kids' lunches I discovered a large puddle of blood and a large puddle of strawberry juice on top of the stove.  Plastic bags - You stink.  And also, why do the kids get the prizes for the fundraisers instead of the mothers?  This is unjust.  All of this occurred before 7:00 AM.
     I got the kids on the bus at 7:10, and then went on to the next thing - get every single thing in the house picked up.  Here's a dirty (or clean) little secret of mine that I used to be ashamed of, but now I realize is just good sense.  Every other Wednesday I have a sweet precious soul come over and clean my house.  When I say clean I mean all the stuff that I never get around to - dusting, vacuuming, mopping, scrubbing showers, etc.  I started having her come when I started my job that requires a lot of my time.  At first it made me feel like some kind of Stepford wife who should be able to clean her own house.  I hated the thought of people finding out I had a "cleaning lady".  I mean, they might think I'm lazy or that I am over privileged or that I don't have it all together (gasp!).  But let me tell you what having someone come clean every two weeks does for me.  It makes me pick up the entire house every two weeks before she comes (Except for the basement.  I never ask her to enter that wasteland of plastic toys and legos).  I need that accountability or stuff would just get WAY out of control.  Having her come every two weeks keeps me sane, and it keeps DHS from taking my kids away because stuff is growing in my house.  I hate cleaning.  Hate it.  I love working at church.  Love it. Because I work I can pay someone to take one thing off of my plate that has 1,345,678,789 on it.  Done!  One of my best decisions ever!  So, anyway, I was trying to get all the last minute things picked up before taking Brinley to school and heading to work.  I managed to do that, get myself ready, pack her bag and lunch and get her ready to leave by 8:45.  Off we went.  Thoughts flooded my head about how not together I am .  How I am a mess.  How I am failing at parenting. How I feel like a hamster running on a wheel who will never ever EVER catch up with her life.  After taking her to school I would still have to go to the elementary school and fix a cookie order mix up, get gas, and put oil in my car that had just alerted me it was low before I could get to work.  I dropped Little Bit off with her sweet teachers and headed back to my car.  In order to ease the pain of being a massive mess of a human being I decided to treat myself to Starbucks.  It is a bad thing when there is a Starbucks literally next door to your child's preschool!  Usually when I order Starbucks I get a skinny, decaf, soy latte of some sort.  I am the most annoying orderer ever.  And lame.  How lame does that drink sound?  Skinny cause - calories!  Decaf cause - heart arrhythmia.  Soy cause - gas and eczema.   Well, I noticed today that they now have almond milk, which is what I usually drink.  So I decided to try that out today.  Well, friends - Don't do it.  It wasn't good.  So I spent $5 on a drink that was kinda gross.  But I drank it anyway, cause I couldn't bare the thought of the $5 going to waste.  And off I went to the rest of my morning.  Good news.  This is where the play by play of my morning ends, and I get to the point!  Yay! 
     I was driving down McCrory Lane on my way back to Kingston Springs thinking about ALL THE THINGS when I looked up and realized that I was surrounded by amazing beauty.  The trees here in Tennessee right now are absolutely incredible.  It is breathtaking when you look around at them.  And as I looked at the beauty that God had created something happened.  All of the stress and worry, the failures, the not good enough, the running behind - it suddenly didn't matter.  And I had this thought run through my head.  Those leaves are the most beautiful that they will every be, and they are dying.  They are showing color and change and brilliance and God's glory, and they are dying.  And how can dying be so beautiful?  And I thought about my life.  I thought about how Motherhood is a repeated act of dying to oneself over and over and over again.  I thought about how Christ calls us to die to ourselves and the Bible repeatedly reminds us that in order to truly live - WE HAVE TO DIE.  And this death isn't a one time thing.  It is a daily, drag yourself out of bed, live your life fully for Jesus kind of dying.  And I thought about the most beautiful people I know.  And like the brilliant red and orange and yellow I was witnessing in the trees, the people I know who are constantly dying to themselves are breathtaking and something to behold.  They bring joy and light and reminders of God's goodness.  And they make the dying look not sad or painful, but lovely and purposeful.  And I am reminded that the dying doesn't have to be in my own strength.  The same God who created the trees created me.  The trees don't stress about the dying.  They just do what God created them to do.  And when I abide in Him all the dying is really all the living.  And when I try to live without the constant dying to myself - my life feels empty.  And God will never ask us to do something that He won't give us the strength to do if we abide in Him.  There are lots of things that we are not promised in the bible.  We are not promised ease of life, we are not promised stress-free days or kids that don't fight.  We are not promised health or wealth or certainty.  But we are promised this - He will never leave us.  He will NEVER leave us.  So on the days when we don't feel like we can do it - He is strong enough.   Those leaves that are dying, they will soon fall to the ground.  The trees will relinquish their beauty and release the leaves to the earth.  The letting go is always part of the process.  If the trees didn't let go of the leaves in November we would never appreciate the beauty of April.  And if we never let go of the things God asks us to relinquish - we will never see the beauty of what He has to offer in the springtime of our life.  Letting go, even of what seems like the most beautiful thing we have, is part of the process of God making us new.  And if we hold onto those things and refuse to let them fall to His will they will turn brown all over us and the beautiful will become the ugly.  And I realized that God said His creation would show us who He was, and He was showing me this morning that just like the trees if I allow His plans to rule my life then every season has a purpose.  Everything I relinquish becomes something beautiful in His time.   And if I accept His seasons instead of trying to forge my own, like the trees I can provide life and oxygen and beauty.  Fall is my favorite time of year.  Today I realized that is more true than ever.  And today I'm breathing this lesson: Let go and let yourself die.  It's the only way to truly live.  

Why I Will Be Voting Evan McMullin in November and I Hope You Will Consider Doing the Same

    



     Well, I guess that title is a little misleading.  I actually plan to vote in October during early voting.  I mean I love the idea of voting on election day, but school is out that day.  If I take my four kids with me into that booth I may end up voting for LeBron James, Spiderman or Dora the Explorer by write-in on accident.  Thank you Jesus for early voting. 
      But now on to the seriousness of this blogpost.  I'm gonna pour out my heart and beliefs here on our current Presidential race so if that doesn't interest you please take my permission to avoid this post and go with God.  But, if you are like me and have found yourself confused, frustrated and just saddened by our current political climate - read on for a dose of hope and optimism. 
     A week ago I was an undecided voter.  I mean, don't get me wrong.  I had decided that I couldn't vote for either of the main candidates in this election.  What I hadn't decided was who I would write-in when I walked into that booth.  I didn't want to take my right to vote for granted.  I know a lot of people gave their all to give me that right.  It's a right I don't dismiss or take lightly.  It's a right that many people in this world dream of having.  So I wanted to vote in this race.  But I was distraught because I didn't feel that any of my options lined up with my beliefs about how this country should be led.  And I didn't feel that I could maintain my integrity and vote for either of the candidates that I am being told by most people are my only choices.
     Enter Evan McMullin.  I have to be honest.  I had never heard of him before this week.  But I was scrolling through something online and I saw an article about him running for President.  So I clicked.   What I read intrigued me so I went to his website and started reading.  It was almost midnight and everyone else in the house was asleep.  I knew I needed to go to bed, but I couldn't stop reading.  As I read about his reasons for jumping into the race and read through his stances on all of the important issues I just got more and more excited.  Finally there is a candidate that I can get behind!  His plans and beliefs made sense.  And he was congruent in his platforms.  He appeared to be genuine and real in his concern for and love of our country.  He has a background in mission work, CIA counter-terrorism and business.  He believes that it's time for the old ways of Washington to end.  And I just kept thinking "Where has this guy been?!"  He entered late in the race because he was waiting for someone else who was better known to step into this hole in our election.  But no one did - so he stepped up.  When I listen to his interviews I hear character.  And isn't that refreshing?!
     You can do your own research about his platforms, but I will share a couple things things that meant a lot to me as a voter.  He believes in the sanctity of life, and he seems to get that it includes ALL life.  The sanctity of life of course applies to the unborn, and we need to protect them.  However, it also applies to religious minorities, refugees, immigrants, black lives, blue lives, people in poverty, homosexuals, and criminals.  If we truly believe in the sanctity of life we believe it is God's business to decide when it starts and ends and our business to protect it in the meantime.  Is this complicated?  Absolutely.  And then not really at the same time.  As McMullin says on his site, "Our respect for life is the most important measure of our humanity. From conception to death - and any time in between - life is precious and we have a responsibility to protect it."  Amen to that!  I loved his stance on refugees.  He is all for secure borders and appropriate processes.  He worked for the CIA after all.  But when asked about the refugee situation in an interview he basically said that if you want to come to this country as a terrorist coming in as a refugee is the hardest way to do that.  Coming in on a Visa is much easier.  He explained that the hysteria and misconceptions about the refugee situation are dangerous and wrong.  I'm paraphrasing here, but you can watch his interviews and read up on his website.  He has great plans and ideas on the issues.  Please read up on him if you haven't already.  This is a leader we can get behind.
     So now I will address the popular stance that voting for a third party candidate is a wasted vote.  I have heard this MANY times.  And I'm sorry, but I just don't believe it.  Do I understand the reasoning behind this line of thinking?  Yes.  I get it.  We can't have what we really want so we will settle for what we hate less.  We can't have good so we will choose the lesser of two evils.  Well, as Evan McMullin quoted in one of his videos - "A vote for the lesser of two evils is still a vote for evil."  When did our votes become so cheap that we will sell them to the system and the media?  When did we become so timid in what we actually think is right that we will ignore our own conscience and do what everyone is saying we must in order for our vote to count?  This is exactly how we have gotten to this sad point in our country where we have two terrifying and disqualified people on the largest stage in the world acting like little children.  People have chosen to vote out of fear or defensively instead of offensively and out of character and conviction.  We have bought into the view that "it is what it is" and "there's nothing we can do".  I say that's garbage.  We have a chance to put on a ballot what we want for this country.  Do you want either of the people who have the stage to lead us?  Do you know a single effective leader who is morally bankrupt?  As our governor in Tennessee said when he asked Trump to step aside last week, "I want to emphasize that character in our leaders does matter. None of us in elected office are perfect, but the decisions that are made in the Oval Office have too many consequences to ignore the behavior we have seen."  We have a chance to stand for something, and I for one am going to stand for what is true and good and right. 
     "But the Supreme Court!"  I know.  I get it.  It's the only thing that made me for one second consider voting for Trump.  But let me ask you this: How can we expect the Supreme Court to uphold our values if we won't even hold them up ourselves in this election?!  And beyond that I have little faith that a Trump presidency will deliver anything it offers.  It only takes a little research to know that neither of our candidates are truthful and steady on their stances.  So I won't vote because I'm afraid about the court.  I will vote because I believe that there is better for our country.  God calls me to holiness and personal integrity, and I will do my best to honor that.  I am responsible for my own actions.  I am responsible for what I submit when I walk into that booth.  And it isn't going to be what anyone else tells me I have to submit.  There are a lot of people in this world that I love and respect that don't agree with me here, but I don't answer to them.  I answer to God in Heaven who has made it clear in my Spirit that I cannot hitch my wagon to Trump or Hillary and maintain my integrity.  So I will vote accordingly.  And if you disagree with me wholeheartedly, guess what?  I still love you and invite you to eat at my table.  I will treat you with dignity and respect and like the God-creation that you are.  Why?  Because that's what I believe.  And if my beliefs don't carry over to all areas of my life then my beliefs aren't really my beliefs. 
     Am I a dreamer?  Yep.  Am I an idealist?  Yep.  Am I an optimist?  Yep.  Am I crazy to think that taking a stand in my own little way in my own little booth will make a difference in this world?  Maybe I am.  But, if I am then I wish there was a lot more crazy in this country.  When I leave this world someday I want to be remembered as a dreamer, an idealist, an optimist who never let this dark world beat that out of me.  I seem to remember many such people from the Bible.  I don't want to be another person who does what everyone says they have to do in order to get what they want.  I want to be one among many who are standing up and refusing to believe that is my only option.  There is so much better to expect, to aspire to, to pray for, and to believe.  It starts with me.  It starts with you.  Refuse to compromise.  Our nation is so much better than we are giving it credit for. 
    
    

Your Face in His Hands

     I still remember the jeans I had that worried me most that the boys would tease me about having a large bottom.  They were light stonewash and tapered and tight-rolled, normal late 80's early 90's fashion.  But I would be self conscious every time I wore them knowing "my butt looked big", and the boys would joke about me causing an earthquake with my footsteps.  It was 5th grade, and some boys were just mean.  I suppose they were trying to be cute or funny or make up for their own childhood insecurities by inflicting new ones onto their peers.  And it worked.  If I'm being honest I have to admit that I looked in the mirror just this week and thought "Man, my rear is out of control.  I've got to work on that."  Do I hold these words against my 5th grade friends?  Well, no.  They were children.  They had their own problems.  They hadn't had time to learn the impact of your words on others.  They didn't know they were digging deep holes into my confidence.  They were children. 
     You see - as a woman it starts really young, the subtle and not so subtle clues that if you want to have worth you must be beautiful.  From the time you start watching cartoons you learn that the beautiful princess is always the heroine.  Companies start marketing beauty products to you before you can read.  People enter their children in pageants before they old enough to attend school.  Boys start talking about your body by middle school at the latest.  And by the time you are a teenager you are oddly aware that you can't go anywhere without boys or men sizing you up as you walk by.  You can't go to the mall with your husband or sons without having to walk by a 20ft by 40ft picture of an undressed centerfold in the window of Victoria's Secret.  And we've taken God's beautiful gift of sexuality and distorted it to the point that it is unrecognizable. The internet provides instant access to our boys and men to women who show their beauty and ask for nothing in return (except their souls).  The images are abundant and the message is clear - being beautiful is everything and is to be expected.  And scars run deep and wide for women everywhere of being treated like an object.  And sometimes I just want to weep that my daughters have to live in this world.
     Then I hear the words of the man who could very possibly be our next president as they echo through every media outlet this weekend.  He talks about coming on to a married woman.  He talks about grabbing women like they are objects and kissing them without their asking.  He dismisses an entire gender as being there for his pleasure.  And I read this quote from Him from years back - "You know, it doesn't really matter what the media write as long as you've got a young and beautiful piece of ass."  Let's add on the fact that he has a long standing relationship with Howard Stern and has himself been on the COVER of playboy magazine.  Oh, and the strip clubs.  He OWNS them.  And the largest beauty pageant in the world.  Yeah, he owns that too.  He openly admits to cheating on his wives (plural).  And then he has the gall to say this - "There's no one that has more respect for women than I do."  And I shudder.  And I grieve that this is the point to which we have come.
     But I know a man who respected women.  He came to the earth born of a woman, although He could have entered in a much more glorious way.   He allowed a woman to anoint Him before His death.  He appeared first to the women after He rose from the dead and gave them the privilege of telling the good news of His resurrection to the men.  He wept with Mary as she grieved her brother's death.  He sat with the Samaritan woman at the well and broke massive cultural norms in order to connect with her.  He healed the woman who touched his robe and blessed her for her faith.   He healed a woman on the Sabbath knowing He was opening Himself up to criticism.  He taught women about the things of God (even though this was against custom) and welcomed them into His presence.  He never sized them up or put them down.  He never made them feel less than for being a woman.  He valued them.  He affirmed them.  He gave them equal standing and let them know that they mattered.  He offered them salvation and personal relationship.
     Sisters, as you read this today you undoubtedly have scars.  They may be little scars on the surface of hurtful comments that people have made about your appearance.  They may be deep, dark, life-altering scars from someone who made you an object.  They may be scars from the man you love looking onto other "beauty" leaving you feeling once again less than and unlovely.  They may be scars from 30 years ago or from 30 minutes ago.  But here is what you need to hear - The only person in this world whose opinion truly matters believes that you are lovely.  He wants to hold your face in His hands and tell you that you are fearfully and wonderfully made.  He esteems you as His perfect creation.  He loves you more than His own flesh.  He will and has gone to all lengths in order to be with you.  He doesn't care if you are at your pre-baby weight.  He doesn't care if you have a thigh gap.  He doesn't care if your hair style is on point.  He doesn't care if your face shows lines from all the life you've lived.  He doesn't care if your hair runs silver with the stories of your life.  He won't ever demean you or belittle you.  He will never treat you like an object without a soul.  He will sit with you.  He will teach you.  He wants relationship with you.  He wants intimacy with you.  He respects your womanhood.  He esteems you as His daughter.  He is crazy about you just as you are.  And He offers healing for all the wounds you have endured.
    So if the world or the President tell you that you aren't enough, just open up your Bible and read about who Jesus says you are.  We have the truth about ourselves written on the pages.  And when that voice from scripture becomes louder than all of the others in our world we will finally know it deep inside our being: We are beautiful.  Because we are His.
   

Kindergarten

   

     Something big happens in our family tomorrow.  Wyatt starts Kindergarten.   It's been a long time coming.  I mean technically he could have started last year, but I didn't think he was ready.  He was great socially at preschool, but he still colored like axe murderer and he got his letters and shapes and whatnot confused pretty regularly.  Another year of pre-k seemed like a good idea and was wonderful for him.  So since, I have to let him start school now or face legal action for negligence I figured this one would roll off my back.  Psh....no problem.  I've done this twice before.   The first time was horrible.  The WORST.  The second time hurt, but not nearly as badly.  But the third, well, surely I've got this thing licked.  I even bragged to my friends about how together I was when I took him to Kindergarten testing last week.  "Those other moms were crying.  Rookies."  I proudly smirked at the "boohoo breakfast" advertisement and thought "I won't be crying."   I've been pretty excited about our new routine and the added time in my schedule to do all the things that I am behind on.  ALL THE THINGS.  There are SO MANY things.  But anyway, I was so ready for this.  .........And then tonight came.     Wyatt has been a little out of sorts and anxious about school starting for a few weeks, but tonight he just broke down sobbing when I was laying down with him tucking him in.  He is terrified to go to school.  He doesn't want to go.  He is afraid he can't make friends.  He doesn't want me to make him go.  And here I am right back in this Mommy place of heartbreak for your child.  Everything they feel you feel with them, and your heart is inexplicably tied to their struggles.  And I find myself begging God to let him have a good day tomorrow, and I'm having a hard time going to bed.  This motherhood thing.  It's not part-time.  There isn't a second that you don't have a concern for one of your kids.  There isn't a day that goes by where you don't feel something they are feeling.  When they hurt you ache, and when they are happy you beam.  They have your heart.
     And I am thinking tonight about God.  The perfect parent.  And how He calls us to new things.  How He asks things of us that are uncomfortable and scary sometimes.  How sometimes life feels like Kindergarten.  And I just know that He cares so deeply about our "new things".  He aches when we ache, and He "sits up" with us when we are scared.   Last year I stood on the edge of "Kindergarten".  There were so many changes that would occur in my life, and I cried so much because I didn't want to let go of my normal and my plan and my routine.  I didn't want to make new friends.  And what if no one liked me?  And what if I failed at that job?  And I liked my life how it was.  And I didn't see the need for change.  But all along God was saying "You'll be fine.  Trust me.  You need to go to Kindergarten."  And for this person who likes the familiar and predictable it just didn't sound appealing.  But at the same time there was something very appealing about it all.  Could life actually be more simple?  Could we consolidate all of the major parts of our life into one small community?  Could I use gifts God has given me to minister to children in that community?  When everything in the world screams bigger and better could smaller and quieter be just what we wanted for our family?  Could we live on a farm and enjoy it?  Could we refuse to run our life always at a break neck pace in favor of something a little calmer?
     It's been a year of letting go and a year of embracing.  A year of tears of heartbreak for what is behind and a year of smiles and joy for what is gained.  A year of remembering on some basic level who I am and finding a peace that I had lost somewhere along the way.  A year of being grateful for where we are and for everything that brought us here.  A year of knowing I cannot take my friends or family for granted.  A year of seeing my husband happier than I have seen him in a long time.  A year of seeing my kids thrive in the smaller, the quieter.  A year of realizing that God doesn't ask us to give up things to hurt us.  He asks us to give up things to bless us.  And when we loosen our grip enough to let him take the wheel He will always drive us to exactly where we need to be.  And He even patiently lets us take little breaks on the trip when we question where on earth we are going.  Then He keeps on driving us to the place where He blesses us.  He is a Good, Good Father, and our new beginnings are never in vain when they are in Him.  His plans are rarely painless, but they are always perfect.
     So tomorrow when Wyatt heads into Kindergarten I will empathize with how he is feeling.  But I will trust that God has great plans in his new beginning.  I will have faith that He will be with him all day even when I cannot.  I will even TRY to walk out of there without tears if it's possible.  And I will remember all of the "Kindergartens" that God has brought us through and thank Him that He never leaves our sides.  -So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." _Isaiah 41:10

5 Best and Worst Things about Being a Little Kid Mom

    

     Yesterday was the day we wait for all year.  Mother's Day. While we live in the trenches giving our all to these tiny humans all year long we often feel like no one realizes the gravity of what we are doing day in and day out, least of all the tiny humans. But one day a year people stop and ponder the incredible work of being a mother.  And it's just nice to hear the words "Happy Mother's Day" or "You're doing a great job".  So to all of you amazing mothers out there, here is a list designed to make you laugh, make you cry and help you remember why what we do is so very important!  If you are reading and are young and haven't had children you may want to skip over the "worsts".  Haha. So here we go. We begin with the 5 WORST things about being a mom to little kids in no particular order:

1.  Poop.  Okay, maybe this actually is #1.  Poop and raising babies go hand in hand (many times literally). After 4 kids and 10.5 years of parenting I have experienced every kind of pooptastrophe imaginable.  "The blowout diaper". " The poop mural" (yeah, like on the wall).  "The poop trail"(varying lengths). "The poop river"(straight into the shoes, people).   "The oops I went in the bath poop"(especially fun when bathing two together).  And sometimes life plays tricks on you and the problem becomes that they can't poop. And the measures you have to take there, well, I won't go into details, but they are heroic.  Here's to you, policers of poop.  You are literally dealing with a load of (Well, I can't say that.  I'm a minister.) Carry on mighty warriors!

2. Nosebleed Crime Scene.  Okay.  If you have kids past a certain age you know what this is.  If you only have little babes - just wait.  It goes like this.  You wake up in the morning (In my case the waking is a process that continues long after the rising.) You stumble to the bathroom because you haven't been since you woke up at 3:00 AM to go (darn beat up bladder).  Before you get to the bathroom you see a trail of blood. You walk into the bathroom and there are tissues and your nice hand towels (meaning they don't have holes) covered in blood and strewn everywhere.  There might even be a tiny bloody handprint slapped on the wall and splatters all over the floor.  The first time this happens you think surely something terrible has happened. No need for coffee. You are now awake. Just when you are about to call 911 you go into your child's room and see a bloody nose and tainted pillowcase.  No one has been murdered.  It was just a nosebleed!  Crisis averted!  Can schools please offer classes on proper nose bleed etiquette?   This tomfoolery is unacceptable.

3.  Legos (AKA Foot Daggers).  Y'all. I love Legos. Here is why.  They entertain my kids in a way in which they are using their creative skills and their engineering skills simultaneously. They build brain cells and form new neurological pathways whilst playing with these little treasures. They bridge the gender gap. Legos are one of the few things that ALL of my kids can enjoy together. The other day I caught them all playing with Legos quietly in the basement and not fighting, and I thought I had perhaps died and gone to heaven. It was like finding a troop of lemur monkeys sitting on a couch cross-stitching. Magical.  But here is the thing with Legos. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE. Those sneaky little fellows show up where you least expect them.  Under the couch, in the washing machine, in the pantry, in my shoes, in the baby's pull up, the list goes on and on.  But their greatest crime is this: stepping on one is a pain level only one step down from breaking a bone.  They stab into your foot like a knife, making no apologies.  And they are sneaky. They can be camoflouged with the floor or stuck down in the carpet where you can't see them until the searing pain is in full effect.  Legos.  We love them. We hate them.   We can't live without them.  Solution: always at least wear socks around the house. Then you have a buffer.

4.  The Lack of Sleep. You guys, I don't think I've gotten a straight 8 hours of sleep since 2005.  Unlike those few precious infants who come home from the hospital, ask for a BarcaLounger, and sleep like a hibernating bear - my children liked to be awake. A lot.  The middle 2 weren't so bad. They only hazed me for about 3 or 4 months.  The first and the last nearly killed me.  They didn't sleep through the night consistently until about 11 months old and 14 months old. In case you aren't counting that is about 3 total years of not sleeping through the night ever.  Fun times. Even now, with the youngest being 2.5 I would say we average once a week on the nighttime visits from any given child.  On the nights where we do manage to get everyone to sleep at a reasonable time and not see them til morning there is still the good ole bladder to wake you and remind you that you are somebody's Mama.  Being sleep deprived takes a toll on a person. You start to forget things like where you are supposed to be, how old you are, how many kids you have, why you fix your hair, etc. It's not for the faint of heart. And the tiny humans don't usually grant you a nap time to recover. Maybe when you only have one child, but after that -no deal.  So to all you mamas walking around in a haze today: We get you.  We feel your pain.  We salute you.  And if you have toilet paper on your shoe or you only put mascara on one eye, we will tell you and offer our assistance.

5. The vomit.  Let's bookend this thing in grossness.  The puke is a legit problem with kids.  Some kids are more pukey than others. I'm lucky and got the really pukey ones.  As recently as last night one of mine puked from sugar overdose at a family reunion.  My 6 year old can puke from just being grossed out by a smell or an offensive food.  He gags and just pukes. He's done it at the zoo, the Mexican restaurant, in the car, on my feet (more than once).  I've had my arm puked on while I slept in my bed by my oldest.  The same child has puked out of a top bunk leaving his bed, his brother's bed and his carpet in the wake.  I have stepped in a puke puddle in my room in the middle of the night.  I have pulled off the road multiple times for my daughter to puke.  The amount of puke-laden bed sheets we have washed is unbelievable.  So yeah.  The vomit. It's gross.  It's just so gross.  Here's to you, my fellow cleaners of this nastiness.  There really should be an extra jewel (or 50) in our heavenly crowns for completing this task.

So now that I've made everyone wish they hadn't had kids and those of you who haven't yet had them seriously reconsider, let's turn this thing on its head.  Here are the 5 BEST things about being a mom to little kids in no particular order:

1.  The Clean Baby Smell.  I think we all agree that this one is wonderful.  That smell as you cuddle a little baby who just had a bath is so amazing that it could almost make me want to go through another 9 months of nausea and 18 years of raising just so I can smell it a few more times.  It may even be better than the smell of brownies baking.  Babies are babies for such a short time.  Those little moments of holding them close are so precious.  Everything is right in the world when a sleeping baby lies on your chest.  It's a peace that passes understanding. 

2.  The Cuddles.  This one isn't limited to just babies.  My 10 year old still cuddles with me.  God created us to need touch and the hugs and cuddles of these little children are so special.  There will soon come a day when they won't be able to sit in my lap and lay their head on my shoulder.  There will be a day when I will be doing good to get them to sit in the same room and visit with me.  For now I am going to enjoy the sweet cuddles.  Cuddles have healing power.  They could have done anything to make your life hard that day, but the minute they cuddle up in your arms it's like you are holding that little baby again.  It's a love like no other.  Amazing that God loves us that way and even more.  Whatever ails you that day or however long the day was, it just melts away when you cuddle up with these sweet ones.

3.  The Homemade Cards.  These are amazing.  I got cards from all 3 of my older kids yesterday that they had made at church or school.  One said that I am was great cook.  Another said I was "elite in kindness".  Not sure what that means, but I'll take it.  The little drawings and hearts that say I love you are enough to make you sure that every minute of this job is worth the effort.  And the pride with which they present their masterpieces to you is just so precious.  They just want to make sure their mom feels happy and loved.  I may have to build on to the house to store all of these little treasures from over the years. 

4.  Watching Them Learn.  This is definitely one of my favorite parts of parenting.  You get front row seats to the amazing wonder of watching these children learn and grow.  They start from the minute they are born when they try to figure out how to open their eyes and how to drink milk.  They are always learning.  As a parent we get the amazing job of teaching them so many things, and when it finally clicks we feel more excited than they do most of the time.  Watching them learn words is one of my favorites.  When they mess them up and say something wrong it is sometimes the cutest thing ever.  It's actually sad when they learn the correct pronunciation. :)  Knowing that we are a part of this amazing process of learning is both exciting and humbling.  What are we teaching them when we don't know they are watching?  How much time are we taking to teach them the most important things?  This is such a precious time.  How awesome to have a job that we can be certain is making a huge investment into the future.

5.  God's Heart in Your House.  The bible is very clear about how God feels about children.  He loves them so much.  They have His heart.  They are these beautiful little image bearers that haven't been so tainted by the years.  They teach us so much about how to love the way God loves.  When we work through the hard days of parenting and want to pull our hair out we are being constantly molded into the people God created us to be.  I have grown more as a person through parenting than through anything else in life.  You simply have to.  There isn't another job on earth that makes you feel so incredibly strong and so incredibly weak at the same time.  You realize you can do and handle more than you ever dreamed at times.  And then at other times you are on your knees begging God to intervene because you simply don't know what to do or have the energy to do it.  It is an amazing ride of joy and pain, comfort and struggle,  but ultimately love wins.  You have this person or these people who are forever linked to you and a love that can't be explained or taken out of your heart.  You experience God in an entirely new way, and you understand on a completely new level the love He has for us and the sacrifice He made when He gave up His Son.  Being a mom isn't for the faint of heart.  It isn't for the people who want an easy, hassle-free life.  But it is for the people who want a full heart, a full life and a blessing beyond what they ever imagined.  The best things don't come easily.  The best things are the things that require you to give your all.  Those are the things you will never take for granted.  Happy belated Mother's Day to all my fellow mamas!  You are somebody's hero!

Broken

     I woke up this morning with searing pain in my shoulder and the reminder that I'm BROKEN.  I'm 2.5 weeks out from a surgery where they broke me further in order to heal me from the brokenness I had already been experiencing for 9 months prior.  I don't like being broken.  I don't like being unable to carryout my responsibilities without the help of others.  I don't like being limited.  I want to be whole.  I'm pretty sure it has a whole lot to do with my pride and things I take for granted - like being able to wash my hair thoroughly or screw the top onto a sippy cup without the help of my 10 year old (For the love, please don't look closely at my hair for 4 more weeks ).  I have struggled more than I care to admit and cried more tears of frustration than an adult should over the past 2.5 weeks.  But here's the truth - I am broken.  My shoulder is broken, yes.  But so are my mind and spirit.  I am human.  I am flawed.  I have a sinful nature just like everyone else.  Brokenness is just a part of this life.
     I look around and see brokenness everywhere.  My friends struggle mightily to cope with death or divorce.  My children tear each other down repeatedly.  Flu, and infections, and cancer - they circle around consuming the people I know.  It's all the more evident how much brokenness there is now that we have social media.  I could spend the whole of my day just praying for all the hurt that I see in my newsfeed.  And the news, oh don't get me started on the news.  Brian is smart and likes to have all the information and be well-informed, so he watches the news daily.  My feelings about the news are that if you are gonna make me watch it you better hook me up to an IV with some kind of tranquilizing medicine.  And the presidential race, oh mercy.  BRO-KEN.  It is so overwhelming, all the brokenness.  You see, I'm an idealist.  I always see things for what they could be.  I tend to expect the best in every situation and believe in people no matter what they've done.  But being this way makes brokenness stab that much more deeply.  It falls in on you and disables your entire world view at times.  I feel things deeply, whether they are my "things" or the "things" of the people I love, I feel them.  I even feel them for people I don't know, which is why the news can be so completely overwhelming.  And feeling is fantastic.  But you don't get to choose to just feel the happy feels.  You have to open your heart to the pain that surrounds you and accept all the ugly things that are a part of this life.  Now, before everyone takes a collective jump off a bridge from reading my post, let me just tell you that I'm going somewhere with this!  I promise!
     Brokenness is a part of this world, and something that I am dealing with in a very concrete sense right now.  But on this Good Friday it has me thinking so much about my Savior.  You see, on this day, all those years ago - He took on all the brokenness.  He took it.  He bore it.  Not only did He bear the weight of my sin, he bore the weight of every sin in the entire world.  This little pain in my shoulder is a tiny drop in the bucket compared to the enormous pain He experienced today as His body was BROKEN.  He willingly went to that cross knowing that in 2016 you and I would be dealing with brokenness all around us and He would give us hope by BEARING IT FOR US.  And I keep hearing this scripture in my mind - "Surely He took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered Him punished by God, stricken by Him, and afflicted.  But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed.   We all like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all." - Isaiah 53:4-6  And I dwell on those words and know that all the brokenness we face is nothing compared to the glory of the one who took our place.  And He gives us strength to not hide from the brokenness, but rather to run to the brokenness.  We can stand in the cracks in the brokenness all around us because He dwells in us! 
We have Holy power to not only transform our own brokenness, but to heal the brokenness that surrounds.  This world is broken.  It always will be.  It will groan and moan and ache for the Savior to return.  But we are the redeemed.  We will be made whole.  We won't struggle and hurt forever.  On Good Friday, the only perfect man who ever lived took the weight of it all.  He took it.  And He finished it.  And that's how we can stand here BROKEN and have joy and peace and hope.  Because this is the greatest love.  And I don't know about you, but that's a message I needed today.  Jesus paid it all.  He paid it ALL, y'all.  HE PAID IT ALL.  "Oh praise the One who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead!  Oh praise the One who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead!  Jesus paid it all."

What I Learned in Preschool

     Whew.  I don't know where to start this post, but I think a little backstory is necessary so I'll start there.  About 7 years ago I was teaching a few preschool Spanish classes for this great company that contracted with preschools and came in to teach Spanish a couple of days a week.  Spanish?, you say.  Well, yes.  It's a little known fact that my degree is in Spanish.  I spent half of college studying child development and the other half studying Español.  I have a Hispanic soul.  It's true.  I am the whitest white person possible.  They don't make a makeup color paler than mine.  My legs could possibly cause car accidents in the summer from the glare bouncing off of their stark whiteness.  One of my many nicknames in high school was Casper. (How do any of us survive high school?)  But alas, my soul is Hispanic.  I felt so very at home all of the times I went to Mexico on mission trips.  So much so that I wanted to make their language my major.  So I did.  But, anyway, back to the story.  About 7 years ago I was facing a huge decision.  The wonderful woman I was teaching a few classes a week for was moving, and she was selling her business.  And she wanted to sell it to me.  It made perfect sense.  It combined my two loves of Spanish and children and had the potential to be a fairly lucrative move.  The business part scared me a bit, but I'm married to business genius so that wasn't very worrisome.  I was very torn, however, because I was afraid it would take too much time away from my then 2 young children, and we were considering adding a third child to the mix.  So as I struggled with this decision (and had pretty much decided I was going to tell her yes), I lay awake in bed one night.  And I'm telling you the truth.  It wasn't an audible voice, but just as clearly as anything I heard God say "No."  "Don't do this."  It was so clear that I was instantly certain that I had to tell her no and had unexplainable peace about that decision.  He had spoken to me, and I knew it.  So I told her I couldn't do it.  I don't remember the exact timing, but I think it was a week or two later that I got a call from the Harpeth Hills preschool director, Kelly.  It was totally out of the blue to me, but she called and asked if I would be interested in applying for a job to teach music at the preschool two days a week.  I was floored.  Ty was already attending the preschool, and Ansley was going to attend the following year.   I love music so much, and I love children so much, and I just knew in that instant that God had arranged this and that my "no" was the way to this "yes".  I hung up the phone and cried my eyes out.  I can't explain it.  It may seem really small, but I remember it as the day when I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that God was writing my story. 
     I started teaching at the preschool that fall and have been there almost 7 years.  Well, I just finished my last week.  I can hardly type it without bursting into tears because the kids in between those walls have my heart.  The staff in between those walls have my heart too.  It has been an incredible gift to serve alongside so many amazing ladies and get to love on hundreds of children as they came through the "music room" door.  Teaching alongside one of my best friends made every day feel like fun.  But, again, God is writing my story.  And He has clearly called me to a new ministry.  I am so, so very excited to be the new Children's Minister at the church where I grew up.  It's a long, beautiful story that I'm sure will make it's way into a post soon, but after my last week at Harpeth Hills preschool I wanted to reflect a little on what I've learned during my time there.  There have been plenty of funny times no doubt.  Preschool is nothing if not entertaining.  And while I'll take the memories of the little boy dropping his pants and peeing on the slide, the one of the little boy leaning forward and wiping his nose on my bare leg, the many boogers I saw consumed, the hilarious answers I got to questions, and so many more with me; there are so many real true lessons I've learned that I will take with me as well.  Here are just a few.
  
     1.  Some of the hardest working, most dedicated people in the world are teachers.  As with most things in our upside down economy teachers are often taken for granted.  The women I have worked with the past several years pour their hearts and lives into loving children.  They go home exhausted and start a new shift with their own children.  They consistently give of themselves tirelessly.  They go the extra mile to help that one child who is struggling with that skill.  They pray circles around their kids.  And are they ever creative?!  If you think working with young children means you don't have to use much brain power you are sorely mistaken.  Teaching requires mind, body and soul ALL DAY.  EVERYDAY.  I have vowed to never take for granted the men or women who teach my children.  It is a lifestyle, not a 9 to 5.  Thank you God for amazing teachers.
      2.  There is no such thing as a bad child.  This is one premise on which I build my lifework.  In 7 years of teaching Preschool and 10 of parenting my own kids I have seen just about every bad behavior you can imagine.  I have seen kids act out in all kinds of ways, but I refuse and will always refuse to label a child as "Bad".  Children are just that - children.  They need the guidance of adults, and we frequently make our own poor choices.  Some children exhibit bad behavior because they are going through terrible things at home.  Some exhibit bad behavior because they are desperate for attention.  Some exhibit bad behavior because they haven't learned a better way to communicate.  But no matter what is going on with the child's behavior, you can take it to the bank.  That child is made in God's image.  A little bit of love goes a LONG way toward molding behavior.  A lot of love just might change a child's entire life.
     3.  A child doesn't care what you want from them until they know how you feel about them.  This is so important.  When an adult has a place of authority over a child we tend to just expect instant respect and obedience.  Well, that would be nice in a perfect world.  But the bottom line is that most kids don't think that way.  Blame it on culture or parenting or the fact that many adults in the world these days really aren't trustworthy, but kids aren't likely to blindly follow someone who is bigger than them.   (Especially if you are only a few inches taller than them as in my case.  Ha.)  And, you know, while I want my kids to be respectful to adults, I also want them to be able to sniff out the ones who genuinely care for them.  Kids will start responding to you differently if you show them that you care.  Eye contact and smiling go a long way.  A pat on the back or hug, caring about their stories, addressing them with their name, etc. all go a long way towards establishing that relationship.  And better behavior will often follow relationship.  And is this only true of children?  Nuh-uh.   I think the phrase goes "People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care."  Truth.  Relationship is where it's at.  (with two turn tables and a microphone)
     4.  Investing in a child is an investment you will never regret.  Show me one teacher or parent who says "Man, I wish I just wouldn't have put so much time and energy into impacting that child's life."  Of course no one says that!  Investing in children is the investment that multiplies over and over.  We many never know what impact we had on them.  I won't know how many kids will remember a song I taught them about Jesus.  I won't know how much confidence they gained by performing in that program.  I won't know how many I gave a hug to on the day that they really needed to know someone loved them.  But every investment has payout, whether we see it or not.  Even when it seems that our children have learned nothing from us, they have.  The Bible tells us to plant the seed and let God water it.  Every seed we plant in a child's heart is something else for God to water.  Which leads me to my most important lesson.
     5.  Jesus is crazy about children.  He really is.  You don't have to look very far in the gospels to find that Jesus adored these little ones.  The least in our world are the greatest in His.  That we know for sure.  Every time you love a child by teaching or parenting or volunteering you are walking with Jesus.  He entrusts His prized creations to us, and we get to love them.  It is humbling and terrifying and amazing what a precious responsibility that brings.  If you are holding a sick baby today, you are loving Jesus.  If you are teaching a classroom full of rowdy kids and are on your last leg, you are loving Jesus.  If you are babysitting your grandkids, you are loving Jesus.  If you are reading books to your kids at bedtime, you are loving Jesus.  When we care for His children we can know that we are bringing Him honor, no matter how big or small the task.  I hope and pray that I have honored Him these last 7 years and that He will help me to continue to do that in my new role, because what else matters but honoring the One who gives me life and redeems me daily?  "Then he said to them, "Whoever welcomes this little child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. For it is the one who is least among you all who is the greatest." -Luke 9:48