Wednesday, February 10, 2021

A Box of Hair

I know that most families have a story like this: kid gets curious with scissors, kid cuts own hair, tears happen and years later, everyone laughs about it. I have a sibling who did it (twice... yes, same sibling). It's nothing new but as a parent, it's still surprising when YOUR kid does it. I wasn't prepared for it. (I mean, isn't that the motto for MOST of parenting though? "I wasn't prepared for it.") But this really caught me off guard. Here's how it went down. 

 Lucy has VERY thick hair. Long, flowing, golden hair. It's gorgeous. I know I'm biased because she's mine but it truly is something of fairytails (see what I did there?) *wink* 

Sometime today (No, I don't know when because I am working from home and we are having a virtual school day due to inclement weather so there were long stretches of time where I was in the guest room working and the girls were left to themselves but if I had to guess, I'd bet it was while Ester was on zoom for class.) ANYWAY, Sometime today, Lu cut her own hair. She didn't cut all of it, just chunks here and there. I didn't even notice until this evening when I went to braid it before bed. I first noticed one short strand in the front, then I started to look, like REALLY look and I saw short strands in several places. 

 I had a choice and a split second to make it. How was I going to react? I wanted to cry and burst into laughter all at the same time, but I didn't. By some miracle of God, I didn't. Hmm... now that I think about it, probably because I had a practice round on my own sibling who chopped off their hair and I DID NOT react with even an ounce of grace. 

 But with Lu, I thought "What message do I want to send to her right now?" Because whether we mean to or not, how we react to something superficial like this DOES send a message. 
So I asked calmly, "Lu, why is some of your hair short?" Silence. Me again, calmly, "Lu, did you cut your hair today?" She quietly says, "Yes." 

She then shows me a box where she put it and I realize at that moment that it's WAY more hair than I thought. She continues, "I wanted to give it to girls who don't have hair so boys won't make fun of them. I have a lot of hair so I thought I could give them just some of it. I put it in this box so you can send it to them." 

I wasn’t prepared for that answer. I was preparing to “practice what I preach” about looks not mattering when my kid wanted her hair different. I was preparing myself to talk about a lot of things, but not this. 

I pause. I am amazed at her sweet heart. I hug her and tell her that she has a heart of gold. I start to ask questions about these girls that are being made fun of and she said it was from a video I showed her... I don't remember showing her any video anytime recently. I remember when she said she wanted to donate her hair  (and did at age 5), showing her a video of another little girl who donated her hair so that she would know what to expect and be able to understand what she was requesting... and I think I've shown the girls videos of other people shaving their heads in support of family members for cancer, but whatever video about boys making fun of girls? It's not ringing a bell. 

Truth is, that part doesn't matter. I squeezed her tight and told her that I was so proud of her for thinking of others and coming up with ways to help. We went on to talk about the logistics of donating hair, reminding her that it has to be put in a braid or ponytail and that it's best to leave that part up to the professionals. She looked in the mirror and shrugged, "Well, I think it's cute." I told her I agreed. She said, "Mom, all hair is beautiful. It doesn't even matter." 

And then I did cry. Proud big tears. And I laughed a little (at myself), too.


















Above: The box of hair and below it, a picture of a proud and kind-hearted Lucy. 

In case you are curious, we will go to a salon to have the remaining long pieces cut in a way that can be donated.

Sunday, January 28, 2018

Confessions To My Daughters

My Dearest Ester and Lucy,

My greatest joy and privilege is being chosen by God to be your mother. I love you more than I could ever even try to express. This being said, I would be remiss to not admit that along with that joy comes a great deal of angst and worry. These are my issues. I own them. I am self aware enough to know that many of these expose my lack of trust and my tendency to lean into fear, however, they are there and so I will not avoid sharing them with you. I do it here because you are currently too young to hear it so I'll save them for when you are bigger. I share them here in case anyone else can relate or, Lord willing, you become a mother someday and can relate... this way you will know that you are not crazy. That, or you will know that you inherited that craziness from your mother - whichever perspective you choose is fine by me. And mostly, I share them here because I am morbid and think what if I die before I get a chance to tell you? The internet will store them. Unless the internet gets so powerful that it someday explodes and we are all gone... just kidding... did I mention I am crazy and morbid? ;)

CONFESSIONS TO MY DAUGHTERS (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER):

1. I'm making this shit up as I go. Yes, this list, but also how I parent you. I am wingin' it. Some things are thought out and very intentional like reading with you and trying to teach you about kindness and character, but most of it is on the fly.

2. I am scared that I will unintentionally ruin your self esteem. In more ways than one. I am scared I won't teach you well enough that you are loved. Or strong. Or capable. Or beautiful. Or a number of things that YOU TRULY ARE. That I won't say it enough or not know how to speak it in the language that you best receive.

3. I am worried that I won't teach you well enough how to be kind. I KNOW that you will roll your eyes someday and giggle with your sister about HOW MUCH I asked from the other room, "Are you being kind?" or asked you if you were KIND at school, KIND at church, KIND to the kid who wasn't KIND to you... I just really don't want you to be an asshole. The world has so many of those and I hope to God you aren't one of them. Because if you turn out to be, I will not hesitate to tell you.

4. I care more about being your mother than being your friend. I know that this will cause you to probably not like me sometimes... or lots of times. But I am okay with that reality. Because I care more about teaching you and guiding you and being honest with you than whether or not you like me or even want to be around me. It's true now and it'll be true when you are a teenager. I hope we are friends when you are an adult (and if it's before that then I will see that as a bonus), however, it is not my goal.

5. I make mistakes. A lot of them. One of which was making this #5 and not #1 on my confession list. But as much as I am able I will admit them to you. I am not perfect and I do not expect you to be perfect. As much as I require you to ask for forgiveness when needed, I will also ask FOR your forgiveness. We can't move passed things if we do not acknowledge them. We can't grow together if we ignore how we have wronged one another. Things are rarely one-sided. I hope you are able to bring it to my attention when I hurt you. I will always try to be open minded and listen to you and will ask that you do the same. That's why we practice it now daily when you and sister are having a disagreement.

6. I am afraid you won't like your sister. I love my sisters AND I like them. They are treasures. They share something with me that no one else could ever begin to: our childhood... and our crazy-cray family. I know plenty of people who don't like their siblings. Don't get me wrong, your aunts and I drive each other nuts sometimes and even as adults I bet that's still true... but, I hope that the two of you are best friends. That you can trust one another and always take care of each other. You both are SO different. I love it about you. I celebrate it about you. I do my best not to compare you to each other because you were not created to be compared. I hope you will see each other with that freedom - to allow each other to be different. We are all always changing and evolving anyhow.

7. I am worried that I will cause you to worry. I know I'm a paranoid person. I know that all of that paranoia isn't innate. I learned much of it. And much to your dismay, it has served me well. I've always been a "worse case scenario" kind of girl. Didn't do drugs because I was just sure I would get caught or die the first time I tried. Didn't have sex because I was just sure I'd get pregnant or an STD or die... I don't know how I'd die but I told you I'm morbid!!! I am always looking when I walk to my car for someone to jump out and grab me! I keep my keys in stab position. I confess I will likely teach you my paranoid ways. We can have an open discussion of both the root of those worries AND how insane they are. I'm good with it.

8. Patience is hard work for me. Your daddy says I don't give myself enough credit in this department, however, he can't hear all the noise in my head. It is a daily struggle for me to respond in a calm and collected manner when I have asked you for the umpteenth time to do something and you ignore me. So when I am asking you to use a calm and polite tone when you ask me for/tell me something instead of panicking and screaming, know that I can relate to the panicking and screaming because many times that is what is going on in my own brain.

9. Sometimes I need alone time. I probably don't admit this as much as I should. But I REALLY need alone time. This isn't because there is anything wrong with either of you or daddy. I am just wired this way. People drain me. Even my FAVORITE people drain me. So sometimes I just need to be alone so that I can recharge and have the energy and ability to stay sane. This is why we have safe places in the house where you can have alone time too! But having "alone time" is very different than running away. We do not run away when there is conflict. We face them and work together towards resolution. But I digress... that's another post.

10. My brain is all over the place. Just like this list: Part confessions, part lessons, part hopes, part fears... my brain is just as jumbled. Your momma is a "hot-mess". So when you are a hot mess, I feel you! We are complex beings FULL to the brim of feelings and thoughts. When I see your little minds ticking or when you are bawling your eyes out, I see myself. I hope you don't ever feel like you are "too much" of anything. I won't hide my mess from you so that you don't feel you have to hide from me. You never have to hide. I love you - ALL of you.

Well, my sweet girls, your show is almost over so I better end this so we can go to the park. I will end by telling you AGAIN that I LOVE YOU and by admitting one more thing:

11. I don't want to go to the park. I'd rather sit on my bum. But I'll go anyway because much of life is about doing what you should even when you don't want to. And as I said, it is my joy to do so for you.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Monuments


Quick Disclaimer: This is not Nancy. I (Derek, Nancy's husband) wrote this, but didn't really have any way for it to be visible online (I couldn't figure out how to post a pdf to Facebook). Anyway, all that to say, thanks Nancy for letting me use your blog.

Second (not quick) Disclaimer: I don't usually like to participate in online discussions. Not that I think that there is anything wrong with them, it just seems that when it comes to significant topics they mostly go in one of two directions:

1. People of similar perspective shouting into their silos about how right they are and how stupid the other side is, or...

2. People of different perspectives shouting at each other about how stupid the other is.

While this obviously isn't always the case, I would much rather (and do) have these types of conversations in person. I feel like this allows for much better give and take, non-verbal communication, and nuance. Maybe there are some people who are able to adequately communicate in online forums, but I feel like my communication ability is unclear, incomplete, and lacking in context unless I can just look at someone's face and talk with them.

However, online is where these discussions are happening in the broader context, and for this reason, I feel compelled to participate. I don't think that what I have to say is anything new (I have read several articles that articulate the ideas better than I could hope to), but I hope that this will stimulate some thought and discussion that leads to grace and empathy.

So I pray that if anything comes from anyone reading this, it would be that they are moved to sit with someone new and really hear them. Hear their perspective, and really soak in it. The more I try to do this (poorly sometimes), the more I see that I always have more to learn. Everything around us is much richer and complex and painful and beautiful. It's easy to see things simply. It's just not enough.


(end of disclaimers)



Monuments


What Do We Choose to Honor and Why?

As events have unfolded in our country over the last several months revolving around Confederate monuments, I have not been able to stop thinking about the idea. I have heard a wide variety of viewpoints on tv, in social media, and in person, and here is my best attempt to put into words my thoughts.

First, I suppose I need to say for context’s sake that I am a white male, born in Nebraska and raised since age 5 in Oklahoma. Honestly, these statues are not a concept that I have thoroughly considered until the last several weeks, mostly due to the fact that I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Confederate monument in person (or if I have, I was unaware), but my first question is simple: Why are they there? Before speaking to why these particular monuments exist, I think it’s important to ask why monuments in general exist. Generally speaking, I think it’s fair to say that monuments serve memorialize a specific event or greater concept, typically to evoke an emotion based on the tone of the statue. There are monuments in remembrance of a tragic event, such as a statue remembering the Trail of Tears featuring a mother next to a makeshift grave, in which the emotion evoked is sorrow for what took place. On the other hand, there are monuments (which I would think that most fall into this category) that are celebratory, with postures of nobility, strength, courage, and victory. These serve to evoke feelings of pride and honor for the event or idea represented by the statue.

Now to the specifics of these particular monuments. I have heard several supporting opinions (direct or indirect) ranging from “to remember/learn from the past,” to “because it’s part of our history,” to “honor our heritage.” To these replies, I have these questions: What about the past are we remembering? What about our history are we choosing to honor?

If the purpose of the statues are to “learn from the past” and “not make the same mistakes,” then why are the tones of these statues so obviously celebratory? Did anyone designing or building these monuments look at them and think “what an unspeakable tragedy that millions were enslaved and murdered under the idea that one human has the right to own another.” Surely the tone of the statue and this sentiment aren’t consistent. I would challenge someone making this argument to find a statue meant to “help us learn from the past” that features strong images of the inflictors of the tragedy rather than those who were afflicted. In fact, the majority of these statues were not build immediately after or during the Civil War, but 40-60 years later at the height of Jim Crow and the KKK. (http://www.businessinsider.com/confederate-statues-meaning-timeline-history-2017-8) These statues were not created in a vacuum. They were built in a time of significant pushback against advancement of rights of the Black population such as voting, due process, and equal protection under the law, and often in specific locations (courthouses, etc) where the continuation of their inequality was most evident.

If the follow-up is then, “it’s not about the intension of the builders, it has a different purpose to people now.” That very well may be true to some extent. I doubt that the majority of the supporters are supportive because they want to emphasize the continued domination and oppression of the Black population. However, what is it that these statues will help avoid or help to be learned. Surely literal slavery is off the table, so if not that, what? To me (and maybe it’s just me), this argument then sounds like “we need these monuments honoring people who fought for the world view that Black people are inherently and naturally inferior to us (and so we should then own them) to remind us that we are all equal and should treat each other well.” I’m sure that’s not the intention of the speaker, but I feel that this it is a highly illogical thought process.

As to whether the Confederacy = racism, I don’t believe that this is a North = good, South = evil situation. There is certainly a case to be made that it was easier for the Northern states to let go of slavery because their economy was not nearly as dependent on the institution, and they utilized political influence to use slavery as a leverage point to gain power over the Southern states and their resources.

However, framing the discussion around states’ rights versus over-reaching power of a central government doesn’t change the point that the Confederacy was fighting for states’ right to determine that it was acceptable and right to own other people and treat them as cattle. While I’m sure there was a wide spectrum of individual beliefs of Southerners at the time, these are the words of Alexander Stevens, Vice President of the Confederacy in his “Cornerstone Address” on March 21, 1861:

“Our new government is founded upon exactly the opposite ideas; its foundations are laid, its cornerstone rests, upon the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery, subordination to the superior race, is his natural and normal condition. This, our new government, is the first, in the history of the world, based upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth. This truth has been slow in the process of its development, like all other truths in the various departments of science.”

Also, to the point given that “you can’t judge them by today’s standards;” this is certainly true to some extent (It must be noted that this point assumes that when discussing the standards of that time, we are talking about White standards, ignoring the views of the millions of enslaved people who I’m sure felt that slavery was wrong). BUT, the United States was far from the forefront of culture change in this regard. The Abolition of Slavery Act of 1833 abolished slavery in the entire British Empire. Abolition had been a worldwide topic for decades, (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timeline_of_abolition_of_slavery_and_serfdom) , and the Founding Father’s (the late 1700’s) even utilized compromises to delay the addressing of the topic of slavery for a period of time in order to convince the Southern states to ratify the Constitution. This was not some new concept that they hadn’t had time to consider.

So then, if it is established that the cause of the Confederacy hinged on the belief that they (White Southerners) had the right (and were willing to fight for it) to own and do whatever they please to other men, women, and children, and that the statues erected to honor the war heroes and leaders who spearheaded this cause were created in a time and manner that had the effect of punctuating the truth of continued inequality and oppression, where does that leave us today?

While I hope that it is evident that support of the cause of the confederacy (even if Slavery was just the central point of multiple points, it was the self-stated central position), there are those who still want to “honor the past.” I honestly believe that the significant majority of people who support these statues today don’t feel the way they do because they want to emphasize a continued gap in the execution of justice in our society, so what value do these statues bring that are worth memorializing. It seems to me that there are two main factors.

1. It does not feel threatening or hurtful, so it doesn’t really feel like anything needs to be done.
While I know that not everyone who is supportive of the monuments is White, I feel that it is safe to assume that the significant majority of non-White Americans either feel negatively or, at best, neural/indifferent towards them. If I am being honest for myself, it is easy for me to fall back into a perspective of indifference in issues such as these because the weightiness of these topics is one that I can choose to ignore if I don’t want to think about them. This is generally not the case for those who don’t look like me in America. If we cannot admit as White Americans that these are memorials to figures who fought for the right to enslave (Civil War), which were often later used as symbols of continued superiority, power, and violence (Lynching, Jim Crow, Civil Rights Era – only 50 years ago), and that this had and has real effects on our fellow citizens, we will not be able to understand why it matters.

2. It is human nature to want to honor our ancestors.
I think that this is the larger point. I have no biological ties (that I know of) to the Confederacy, but I think that we inherently want to be proud of who we are and where we came from. This is a good thing. Southern Whites should not be exempted from being allowed to be proud of their ancestors, but why choose to celebrate the themes and ideas central to the Confederate cause of the Civil War (Slavery)? I am not enough of a history student to know without researching, but surely there are figures that struggled for noble causes, causes worth celebrating.

Speaking of celebrating, have you ever wondered how many monuments there are celebrating the emancipation of millions of Americans? Sadly, I had not until these last few months. Even more sadly, there are strikingly few. (https://www.vox.com/first-person/2017/8/16/16156540/confederate-statues-charlottesville-virginia). If there were one thing that everyone should be able to celebrate, it would be that men, women, and children were literally released from their chains. What does it say that this is not something that is visibly celebrated?

In the above referenced article, it describes countries in the Caribbean and South America that have monuments honoring the emancipation of slaves, and the thing that appears most different about those countries and ours is that they are predominantly populated and governed by people of color, whereas the United States is not. I think that this is a matter of perspective and power. In those countries, the citizens of power and government visibly celebrate the liberty of the slaves because it is obviously a beautiful thing to celebrate, but also because they are the descendants of those slaves. However, in this country, many of the citizens of power and government (especially in the regions where the monuments are most prevalent) are the descendants of those who were forced against their will to release their slaves. We must consider, as a country, what events and virtues of this time period are most worth celebrating.

It is said that history belongs to the victors, and so that begs the question: Who were the victors here? I am not suggesting that the Confederates and their descendants should not participate in the telling of the history, or that only one group “gets to tell the story.” To the contrary actually. I am suggesting that this discussion is important because the narrative in dominant, mainstream culture and education regarding the Civil War was driven by the group that remained in power (White people), whether Northern or Southern, and as a result will be projected through that lens. Seeing something through the lens of our own perspective is a natural thing, but the story can’t be comprehensive unless we recognize that our vision is not entirely objective, and that voices from the other side of the experience are equally valid and equally true history. The goal should not be to eradicate the view of one to replace it with the other, or to continue to allow one to dominate at the expense of the other, but to TRULY give both equal weight, time, and legitimacy.

Again, I am certainly not for “re-writing history,” or “erasing history” as some have said, but I think that there is a difference between studying/knowing a part of history and glorifying it. We must ask ourselves what we are choosing to glorify, and why. History as it is passed down is never comprehensive, at least from a point of emphasis perspective.

Every day, we do choose.

I don’t think that it is honest or helpful to speak in binary terms when we are speaking about the human condition. I would imagine that many Southerners who knew deep down that the cultural norm was wrong, but the idea of the devastation of their economy, political status, and identity was enough to justify or just ignore that feeling. And before we snub our noses, how often do we use functional reasons to justify our inaction regarding what is right, if only on a lesser scale? Obviously, this is not a defense of slavery or of silence in its presence. Men and women of that time and place were called to speak and act for truth and justice, even when it hurts.

But, so are we. Right now.

The current state of justice in our city/state/country is not something that can be solved by words on a page or screen, and even if it were, I would certainly not be one wise enough to do it. But we have to ask ourselves, in what way am I called to speak and act today, even when it hurts?
I can’t answer that question for anyone other than myself, but I know that in order to ask that question honestly, especially (but not exclusively) as a white person, I must be willing to accept that the lens with which I have viewed our society is not comprehensive. There are perspectives that I do not, and cannot have. I must trust others to educate me in experiences that are not my own, and believe that those experiences are as valid as my own, even if I don’t (especially when I don’t) understand.

Lastly, I feel that I must speak specifically to those who are my Christian brothers and sisters. Our highest aim and calling is not what is spoken and taught and insidiously permeated throughout our culture. We are called to be holy (set apart) and fearless givers of grace. For we have been given Grace fearlessly. Given the Way, the Truth, and the Life, fearlessly. Any mindset that pulls us away from knowing Him and making Him known is a lie and an unsatisfactory substitute. We must speak hope and grace and salvation to a world that needs it, just as much as we have and do, as well as to give of ourselves, even when it hurts.

How that plays itself out in each of our daily lives is at the leading of the Lord, but I was moved by Micah 6:8 in this context. “He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Dear Mommy: I Needed You...

Disclaimer: All posts are my thoughts written for the hopes of encouraging others and never to shame anyone for thinking differently.

I am a sucker for mommy-blogs. I enjoy reading what other parents have learned and love little nuggets of knowledge from their experiences. I recently read a blog post titled something like "Dear Mommy, I Needed You" where a mother wrote about a time where she tucked her elementary aged daughter into bed and instead of staying to snuggle a little longer, she went to check emails and came back to a sleeping child and a note that read something like "Dear mommy, I waited 20 mins and you weren't there. I needed you." She then went on to encourage us to pay attention to the moments our children need us and to not get distracted by things like work, our phones, etc. I appreciate the message and agree that we live in a time where we are easily distracted. For this reason I try really hard to keep my phone away during my evenings at home, however, the post really got me thinking about something else...

MOM GUILT.

Being a mother is one of the greatest blessings I have ever experienced/am experiencing. But it's also exhausting. From the moment I found out I was pregnant with Ester, I was sacrificing myself for the sake of my child - With a grateful heart, but also with the fear that I would fail miserably... and I have. I do and I will. Not a day goes by that I don't question if I am doing it right, loving them well or being what they need me to be... what they NEED. You want to know what my children need? A mom who loves them and keeps them safe. Of course. One who is their advocate, yes! All of these things... but my sweet daughters also need a mom who admits I cannot be all they need. I cannot meet the deepest desires of their hearts. I cannot and will not be their God.
I've tried to be and failed and even resented them when I can't (a sad but true statement).

So as I read the article, I appreciated the reminder to cherish the little things and to pay attention of this fleeting time where my littles are little, but I also sat and gave myself grace. Grace for the times that my girls will need me and I will fail. And grace to show them that WHEN I do, to admit it and point them to THE ONE who never will.

If you are reading this, I also want to remind you of that grace.

I have a lot of people that I am beyond blessed to love and pour myself into: my husband, my girls, my sisters and mother, my friends, and so on... but sometimes I really suck at it. And that's okay. It's okay because the weight of their longings is not on my shoulders. So I refuse to carry what I cannot bear and what Christ has already completed on our behalf.
I choose instead, to live in the freedom that we have been given, COVERED BY GRACE FROM THE ONE WE NEED.


Dear Ester and Lucy,

I love you so much. I love you so much that my words could never fully tell you how big my heart burns for you. But I am not perfect. And as much as I want to love you well, I also admit to you that I will mess this up. I will do my best but in my weakness and humanness, I won't always be everything you need me to be. I was not made to be everything you need. Only Jesus can be that for you and I will do my best to bring you to Him. I hope that you will know and believe that you are loved, yes by me but also by the Most High King. And that before you were my daughter, you were His.

I pray that I am able to watch you grow up and Lord willing, be around when/if you have children. And in that time, I promise to remind you of these truths when you are filled with mom-guilt. That guilt does not bare fruit and so I want to remind you of the grace you have been given and ask you to choose to live in the freedom you have been offered. It is for freedom we have been set free.

All My Love,

Mommy






Wednesday, August 10, 2016

I Want It To Be Easy

Bare with this first part... I'm going somewhere with it, if you're patient to read through the contextual intro.

Today we received confirmation that Ester is still allergic to soy and egg. We had her blood tested a couple weeks ago, hoping that she would be in the 80% to grow out of these things. We expected her nut allergy to stay but were hopeful to be rid of the other two. Egg and soy may not seem like difficult things to avoid, but start reading the ingredients on everything you buy and you will quickly see that these are in EVERYTHING. Especially soy.

When we found out about her allergies, she was 2. Over half of her life ago... so my hope for her growing out of these really had very little to do with how I cook or changing her diet in a big way. We have adapted and I think we are all healthier for it. When you eliminate soy, you eliminate a LOT of processed foods.

My hope for her growing out of this allergy was to help prevent exclusion. Ester will start Kindergarten next week. Up until this point, she has been in very accommodating places: church and a small daycare/preschool. All of these places have bent over backwards to make sure that Ester is not only safe (my first priority) but also included. I am grateful for that. But in one week she will start Kindergarten at a public school (gasp! I know - another blog that will come bc I'm pretty damn passionate about supporting public schools... but, I digress). And her school will have around 700 children. It is not nut-free and there is no way they can accommodate for her allergies all the time (trust me, I've already asked and tried to find ways bc I am SO that mom).

Often times at birthday parties or events, Ester has missed out on the cake and treats - but always like a champ because I always brought something that she enjoyed to have when everyone else has cake. But more and more, she wants to be like her friends. She wants to enjoy things with them. She wants to blend in and doesn't want to be different.



And when I'm really honest, I want that for her too. The older she gets, the more she recognizes her allergies and how they set her apart. How they leave her out.

Trust me, I AM AWARE that in the grand scheme of things, this is such a small struggle. Ester is so healthy compared to many children and I by no means am trying to get pity for my child or say that "we hurt more than..." or "poor little girl" or any of that nonsense. I am simply explaining OUR journey, and how I am trying to process it.

Ester knew that this blood test would tell us if she had grown out of these allergies and I think the hope of that gave her the will to go trough with it in the first place. So when I heard the results today, I debated on when and how I would tell her. I knew she would be upset so I decided to wait until the end of the day, right before bed.

When I gave her the news she just stared at me. Tears started to well up in her eyes and I could tell she was trying to fight crying. I was doing the same thing and then I thought to myself - NO! We are not ignoring this. I asked her if she was sad. She shook her head yes and started to cry. I started to cry. And then we held each other and wept.
I told her I was sad too and that it was okay to be sad. It was okay to be disappointed and that it wasn't wrong to feel that way. We cried some more. Then we talked about all the good things she CAN eat and CAN enjoy with her friends.

She didn't cry long. She wiped her own tears off her face, asked for her stuffed owl and said she was ready for bed. Let me pause for a moment and say that my daughter is a pretty remarkable little lady and often times is much stronger than I am.

We proceeded with the night per usual. Other than, I hugged her a little longer and laid in her bed a little longer than normal.

I walked out and started to think about all of this. How this is a "5 year old's" problem and how I know, Lord willing, we will have many more problems to walk through together. Harder ones.

I remember when Ester was a newborn and I was struggling to nurse her. It felt like the biggest thing to me. I was crying to my mom about it and saying how being a mother was so hard and I didn't know what to do. She agreed and said, "Yeah, hija. It is hard. But that doesn't change with time. It just gets harder." I knew she meant that. And not in a condescending way. In a way that a mother of adult children would say - with wisdom. My mom has walked with my sisters and me through some REALLY HARD SHIT. I watched her do it with love, patience, and grace. I'm in awe of it, actually. And she keeps doing it... meanwhile, I feel like I'm flailing about. (Confession: I am)

Life. Is. Hard. But it is also beautiful.

Each night I pray for my girls. That they will KNOW God and LOVE God. That they will KNOW that they are LOVED by God.
And then, each night, I pray really selfish things like: That they live long, healthy lives. That they have husbands who love the Lord. That the Lord will bless their wombs and the wombs of their offspring. That their families will live to bring glory and honor to God's kingdom... and I hope that all of these things coincide.

But if I'm being 100% transparent - my heart wants them to have EASY lives. Without pain. I know God knows this is my heart. And I'm not ashamed of it. I think it's normal for a mother to hope that her children avoid pain, avoid hardship... but I think it's naïve to think they really will... because I also pray a really hard prayer, almost in spite of my other prayers: That my daughters would recognize their need for JESUS. That God would use my children for HIS kingdom and bring them to be an active part of HIS plan... and I pray this, knowing that often times, that requires pain and hardship. (Side note: I don't know why we are surprised when it does considering all that JESUS, the friggin Son of God, had to go through!) ;)

Watching your child have a broken heart or be in pain is hard - No matter how small the reason. I will always cry alongside Ester and I know myself enough to know that I will be a bear at times... I'll want to kick and scream "It's not fair" and demand it be different. I'll be childish. I'll want to rip off the head of the first dumb teenager to break her heart. I'll want to smack the mean girls... I'm petty. I'll want to do all of that.

But I will also let her feel the weight of it, cry with her, and walk with her. I won't dismiss it, but I won't let it define her. I'll remind her of all the blessings we do have and remind her that she is loved. And that life really is beautiful and big and great and full of wonder. That life has a purpose that is incredible - and thank God for His grace that we get to be a small part of it! And that we get to do it together, for whatever amount of time God chooses.

I don't really have a good ending for this. I guess because it's not over. I don't have a profound answer. I just know that being a parent is tough and glorious all at the same time. And pain is a part of that. As much as I fight it... but I trust that it is necessary, even if and when I don't understand it.



Thursday, July 7, 2016

What's Going On?

The song has been playing over and over in my head as my heart laments. I know my words will be inadequate but I WILL NOT BE SILENT. I cannot.

I went to bed with it and I woke up with it. This morning I scrolled through facebook for a minute while my curling iron warmed up and I noticed something: all of my black friends' posts were crying out over the brutality and injustice while all (but maybe 2) of my non-black friends' posts were of cute children and happy memories. Just yesterday I posted pictures on my husband's page of us at OKC Riversports and I posted a funny quote from my daughter on mine. I'm sorry for that. Not because I feel I shouldn't share happy things on social media - I am sorry for being more consumed in my own little world instead of joining alongside those hurting in my community.

A lot played out in my mind this morning:

My mother is Latina with beautiful tan skin, although you would never know by looking at me because my skin is "so white." Even whiter than my daddy's from what I've heard and from pictures I've seen. I remember hating my skin when I was little. I got made fun of at school with names like "mayonnaise" and "albino" (kids aren't very creative) and I wished I looked like my mom. I remember telling my mom about this when I was in the 1st grade and she said, "I prayed you would be white so you would be treated well and not like I have been treated." I didn't get it then. I had no idea what she was really saying to me. She was telling me that the world I live in would not only be kinder to me because I am so white, it would be safer.

Derek and I lived in Honduras for a year at an orphanage. While in the gates of the orphanage, I felt no fear; but anytime we went into town, everyone was staring at the white Americans. The staff at the orphanage talked to us before we were allowed to leave for the first time. They prepped us to not make eye contact with people, to get what you needed and get out of there. To not be loud, to speak in Spanish as much as we could and quietly to one another in English if we had to. To blend as much as possible. To not wear anything showy or of value, to not linger. Going to the bank was the scariest. Their guards stood out front with military rifles, pacing back and forth. I remember praying that I would be invisible to people, that I would go unnoticed. I thought out every sentence before I spoke it and contemplated every move I made.
Anytime Derek went into town without me, I waited impatiently for him to return, praying for protection over him.

I will not pretend to be able to relate, but this small experience (though pales in comparison) is what I thought of when reading your posts this morning.

I went to work and listened around me. Not one person brought it up. Everyone was talking about politics and Clinton. I know that the demographic I work with (myself included) cannot understand your pain but do we also not see? I see you. I am seeing you and I am sorry it has taken me so long to say that.

I worried I would say the wrong thing or because I cannot relate I would offend someone by speaking up at all but I am realizing that silence is the worst possible choice.

I read your posts - I hear you and I see your pain. I cannot relate to it and I will not pretend that I can but I will stand next to you in agreement. And I will not be silent. And not only behind the comfort of my computer.


Mother, mother
There's too many of you crying
Brother, brother, brother
There's far too many of you dying
You know we've got to find a way
To bring some lovin' here today

Father, father
We don't need to escalate
You see, war is not the answer
For only love can conquer hate
You know we've got to find a way
To bring some lovin' here today

Picket lines and picket signs
Don't punish me with brutality
Talk to me, so you can see
Oh, what's going on
What's going on
Ya, what's going on
Ah, what's going on

Father, father, everybody thinks we're wrong
Oh, but who are they to judge us
Simply because our hair is long
Oh, you know we've got to find a way
To bring some understanding here today

-What's Going On by Marvin Gaye

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Flowers in Heaven

4 years. I kept doing the math over and over today because I couldn't believe it. . . but it adds up. 4 years since Sweet Lily Claire was born which means tomorrow marks 4 years since Lily passed from this life to the next. And my heart is so heavy and so full. It's amazing how such a short life can continue to have such a significant impact. I am forever changed from that sweet baby who only stayed with us outside her mommy's womb for 40 short hours.

I go back and forth between rage and overwhelming delight. I remember (very vividly) those hours. I can picture flashes of them. I remember so many specifics and when I think on them, I am overcome by pain and joy. I remember trying to be strong for my sister. I remember holding my own daughter, 9 months at the time, and wondering why mine was healthy and hers was not. I remember looking at Lily's toes; exactly like her mama's. That second toe that sticks out longer than the first which many say is a sign of stubbornness. It most definitely is. Strength, rather.
And I remember taking turns holding her sweet little body, knowing it would be our last time this side of heaven. THIS SIDE. I know that I know that I know - Heaven.

To some heaven is a dream. To some the thought of heaven "helps people sleep at night." No, heaven helps me LIVE. Heaven is my HOPE. Not some hope like "oh just maybe someday I'll go." I know and me going isn't the part I'm hoping for. I know from that spring in my heart that overflows. I know heaven because I saw it in that baby's eyes. Alive. Fully alive. I know heaven because I know earth and this isn't it. SWEET JESUS, THANK YOU that THIS is NOT it. Because this is hard. And this is fleeting. And this is shallow. And this is lacking. But not Lily. Lily is not lacking a damn thing and because of her completion in Christ in passing to heaven, she is not a list of anomalies nor is she defined by some genetic disorder. There is nothing lacking about her. And for that, I am grateful.

I am grateful that I carry her in me. I am grateful that she is part of our great cloud of witnesses and that while I am flailing about on this earth, she has been perfected. She is steady. I am grateful that I see her in the beautiful things about this life - like little winks from her. I am grateful that she is interceding on her mother's behalf. Her song. I am grateful that she is delight when I still fumble through a world with so much darkness.

I have this tattoo that I got years before she came. Isaiah 40:8 - "The grass withers and the flowers fade, but the Word of the Lord remains forever." I am grateful that Lily is my constant reminder of that promise. This life is so quick - like the blink of an eye, but then - ETERNITY.

Ester asked me a lot about heaven. We talk about Lily being there and I remember when Ester would ask me when we could go visit. If it was further away than Texas. Yes, much further and yet much closer. She has finally figured out that we can't drive there but now asks me how high in the sky it is.

Today we celebrated Lily. Ester was so excited. When I picked her up from school she remembered that we were going to celebrate and told every single person as we left the building: "Today is my cousin, Lily's, birthday! She is finally 4 like me, until I turn 5, and we are going to dinner!" Lucy was clueless.
Ester wanted to wear pink today because she thought Lily would like it. I wore pink, too. Lucy didn't want to. (Her second toe sticks out a little further than her first as well)

We went to Panera because they have Ester-friendly cookies. Then we went to buy balloons. What kind did Ester pick out? Flower-shaped balloons. We filled them with helium and we came home to write Lily a note to send with them. We released them to heaven. I was so grateful for the early night sky so Ester didn't see the streams of tears down my face. I didn't want her to be concerned with me; her face was beaming. I didn't want to distract from that joy. She was so proud. We watched them float away until we couldn't see them any longer.

As we walked inside Ester asked me if I thought Lily would like her present. Of course! She asked me if Lily would write her back. I said I didn't think so but I bet she would send a hug. She said, "Yeah, she'll be the first to hug me when I get to heaven."