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
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.
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
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."
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."
Friday, May 8, 2015
Beautiful Women
With Mother's Day this weekend, I've been thinking a lot about the women in my life and all the women who are impacting and will impact my daughters. The truth is, whether you have children or not, you are part of motherhood. Young girls are looking to you (maybe even my own) about what it means to be a woman. You are mothering them.
I have had so many beautiful woman speak into me. It makes me want to do the same. It makes me see the calling and NEED to be connected in that way.
I'm richly blessed. So, I want to take a moment to openly thank many of you. (In order of appearance)
To my own mother - you are brave. You are the bravest woman I know. You saw opportunity in a foreign land (literally) and seized it. Because of your bravery, I am. Because you took a chance - A CRAZY CHANCE - I exist. My sisters and my daughters and who we all are and are becoming are due to your bravery. You broke out and made a way for us. You teach me bravery. Te amo a la luna y de vuelta.
To my "little" sisters - Ally and Robin - You made me want to grow to be beautiful. Not in appearance, but in my spirit. I wanted to take what was given to us and multiply it. Thank you for letting me practice my mama skills on you. My daughters will be better for it. My parenting is better for it. You two are the only ones who walked through all of it with me and by blood, will always have to.
It's amazing to me how 3 very different women can come from the same place. But I think that show's God's unique design. I will always want to tell you what to do, but thank you for loving me anyway. Thank you for choosing to believe my heart for you is love.
To my Carino - my sweet chosen grandma next door. Much of who I know God to be is because of you. You took the time to take in the neighbor girl next door and called her family. You have shared with me God's unconditional love and from you I have learned how to love others - not just the family you are born into, but those outside of those lines. You have shown me how to reach out to the community around me and pour into it. Thank you for being a safe place for me. Thank you for teaching me compassion.
To my Paula - you are who I think of daily when I am up against the grind of it all. When I am overwhelmed with being a full time working mom, I think of you. When I feel guilty for wanting to be a mom AND a career woman, I think about you. You did both and your daughters are better for it. Because the truth is, you have taught me that though I am called to mother my sweet girls, their needs will ultimately be met by our Father in heaven. He is sovereign and you teach me to trust that. And to be ok with needing time away and needing something outside of my "mom" role.
Sabrina (Fathead) - Big sister. I have always wanted to be like you. I still do. You have paved the way so beautifully. You are intelligent, gorgeous and literally the FUNNIEST person I know. You make me laugh more than anyone! I always have fun when I am with you and I always feel like "I am woman, hear me roar" when I am with you. You are determined, you are strong, you are lovely. Believe it because that shit's the truth!!! Te amo, prima.
To my sweet childhood friends - Darcie: you and your mom were my home away from home. So much of my elementary days were safe with you.
Courtney, Drew, Shannon, Katy(s), Mehgan, Nabila - thank you for loving me in the "awkward years" when it was all so easy but felt so hard. Thank you for the slumber parties, the craft nights, the binge eating, the gossip (yes, I'll admit to it) and for being my circle. Thank you for loving me even when I valued what some silly boy thought over you. You taught me the value of friendship. You helped keep me stable. And you may never know it, but you and your families showed me what I could strive for, regardless of what I came from.
To my Amy - you were the only friend I had that spoke the same heart language. You are a rare treasure. Thank you for calling me out when needed. And thank you for helping me to accept grace for myself. Thank you for praying with me and for me.
Thank you for loving my sisters. Thank you for being the one outside of it all but yet you chose to be in it all.
To Carmella - Thank you for giving me a stage to dance on, and an escape. You, Hannah and Jake made me believe I could do it all.
To Maria - Thank you for listening to my drama and never making me feel stupid. You always made me feel like what I was going through or what I had to say was important. You showed me how to listen to others and the importance on holding my tongue... I'm still working on that one. Thank you for being part of my cloud of witnesses. I long to see you again but know that we are still connected.
Molly - You are a gem. Your genuine heart and ability to be at ease even when I'm acting a fool is soothing. Your ability to laugh and cry with me all in the same minute makes me want to be more open. Not in the blabber-mouth way (I've got that), but in the vulnerable way. Thank you for the long talks, the music, and for helping me sort through my own mind.
Courtney Jo - You are one of those that I won't ever let get away from me. Your zeal for life, your desire for adventure and your laughter are contagious! You teach me to not live in a box.
Kathy - You are selfless. You are pure delight, my dear. You are joy. You are invaluable and I am honored to have you as the girls' godmother. If anything ever happened to me, YOU are the woman I would want my girls to model after. No pressure. ;)
Jessi - In such a short time, we connected. You are a breath of fresh air. You are STRONG. You show me how to endure and be strong despite my circumstances. Despite my emotions.
Cassie, Alicia, Stacy, Stephanie - Thank you for loving my children. Thank you for being my friend AND for your investment into Ester and Lucy's lives. Thank you for "babysitting" but more so - for loving them. For speaking to their hearts when they are anxious and for being a safe place for them to grow in.
Michelle and Carrie - I admire you as mothers, as friends, as woman. You are both so giving. Thank you for being my sounding board. Thank you for letting me vent and for laughing with me about all the mess. I am so grateful to get to work with such sweet friends.
I could go on and on.
This list is in no way extensive. But it is an example of how unique God has made us all. It is an example of people who took the time (whether by choice or because we are related) and invested in me. I am confident because of you. I am so hopeful for my girls and what they will contribute to this world because of you.
SO! Whether you are a "mother" or not, whether your child is on this earth or in heaven, whether you are waiting to become a mother or whether you have no desire to ever be one - YOU ARE SO CRUCIAL TO ME, TO MY GIRLS, TO SOCIETY. Believe that. It takes a village to raise a child but it also takes a village to thrive as an adult.
P.S. That rhyme was not intentional, but I like cheese so I'm going to leave it...
Be blessed.
I have had so many beautiful woman speak into me. It makes me want to do the same. It makes me see the calling and NEED to be connected in that way.
I'm richly blessed. So, I want to take a moment to openly thank many of you. (In order of appearance)
To my own mother - you are brave. You are the bravest woman I know. You saw opportunity in a foreign land (literally) and seized it. Because of your bravery, I am. Because you took a chance - A CRAZY CHANCE - I exist. My sisters and my daughters and who we all are and are becoming are due to your bravery. You broke out and made a way for us. You teach me bravery. Te amo a la luna y de vuelta.
To my "little" sisters - Ally and Robin - You made me want to grow to be beautiful. Not in appearance, but in my spirit. I wanted to take what was given to us and multiply it. Thank you for letting me practice my mama skills on you. My daughters will be better for it. My parenting is better for it. You two are the only ones who walked through all of it with me and by blood, will always have to.
It's amazing to me how 3 very different women can come from the same place. But I think that show's God's unique design. I will always want to tell you what to do, but thank you for loving me anyway. Thank you for choosing to believe my heart for you is love.
To my Carino - my sweet chosen grandma next door. Much of who I know God to be is because of you. You took the time to take in the neighbor girl next door and called her family. You have shared with me God's unconditional love and from you I have learned how to love others - not just the family you are born into, but those outside of those lines. You have shown me how to reach out to the community around me and pour into it. Thank you for being a safe place for me. Thank you for teaching me compassion.
To my Paula - you are who I think of daily when I am up against the grind of it all. When I am overwhelmed with being a full time working mom, I think of you. When I feel guilty for wanting to be a mom AND a career woman, I think about you. You did both and your daughters are better for it. Because the truth is, you have taught me that though I am called to mother my sweet girls, their needs will ultimately be met by our Father in heaven. He is sovereign and you teach me to trust that. And to be ok with needing time away and needing something outside of my "mom" role.
Sabrina (Fathead) - Big sister. I have always wanted to be like you. I still do. You have paved the way so beautifully. You are intelligent, gorgeous and literally the FUNNIEST person I know. You make me laugh more than anyone! I always have fun when I am with you and I always feel like "I am woman, hear me roar" when I am with you. You are determined, you are strong, you are lovely. Believe it because that shit's the truth!!! Te amo, prima.
To my sweet childhood friends - Darcie: you and your mom were my home away from home. So much of my elementary days were safe with you.
Courtney, Drew, Shannon, Katy(s), Mehgan, Nabila - thank you for loving me in the "awkward years" when it was all so easy but felt so hard. Thank you for the slumber parties, the craft nights, the binge eating, the gossip (yes, I'll admit to it) and for being my circle. Thank you for loving me even when I valued what some silly boy thought over you. You taught me the value of friendship. You helped keep me stable. And you may never know it, but you and your families showed me what I could strive for, regardless of what I came from.
To my Amy - you were the only friend I had that spoke the same heart language. You are a rare treasure. Thank you for calling me out when needed. And thank you for helping me to accept grace for myself. Thank you for praying with me and for me.
Thank you for loving my sisters. Thank you for being the one outside of it all but yet you chose to be in it all.
To Carmella - Thank you for giving me a stage to dance on, and an escape. You, Hannah and Jake made me believe I could do it all.
To Maria - Thank you for listening to my drama and never making me feel stupid. You always made me feel like what I was going through or what I had to say was important. You showed me how to listen to others and the importance on holding my tongue... I'm still working on that one. Thank you for being part of my cloud of witnesses. I long to see you again but know that we are still connected.
Molly - You are a gem. Your genuine heart and ability to be at ease even when I'm acting a fool is soothing. Your ability to laugh and cry with me all in the same minute makes me want to be more open. Not in the blabber-mouth way (I've got that), but in the vulnerable way. Thank you for the long talks, the music, and for helping me sort through my own mind.
Courtney Jo - You are one of those that I won't ever let get away from me. Your zeal for life, your desire for adventure and your laughter are contagious! You teach me to not live in a box.
Kathy - You are selfless. You are pure delight, my dear. You are joy. You are invaluable and I am honored to have you as the girls' godmother. If anything ever happened to me, YOU are the woman I would want my girls to model after. No pressure. ;)
Jessi - In such a short time, we connected. You are a breath of fresh air. You are STRONG. You show me how to endure and be strong despite my circumstances. Despite my emotions.
Cassie, Alicia, Stacy, Stephanie - Thank you for loving my children. Thank you for being my friend AND for your investment into Ester and Lucy's lives. Thank you for "babysitting" but more so - for loving them. For speaking to their hearts when they are anxious and for being a safe place for them to grow in.
Michelle and Carrie - I admire you as mothers, as friends, as woman. You are both so giving. Thank you for being my sounding board. Thank you for letting me vent and for laughing with me about all the mess. I am so grateful to get to work with such sweet friends.
I could go on and on.
This list is in no way extensive. But it is an example of how unique God has made us all. It is an example of people who took the time (whether by choice or because we are related) and invested in me. I am confident because of you. I am so hopeful for my girls and what they will contribute to this world because of you.
SO! Whether you are a "mother" or not, whether your child is on this earth or in heaven, whether you are waiting to become a mother or whether you have no desire to ever be one - YOU ARE SO CRUCIAL TO ME, TO MY GIRLS, TO SOCIETY. Believe that. It takes a village to raise a child but it also takes a village to thrive as an adult.
P.S. That rhyme was not intentional, but I like cheese so I'm going to leave it...
Be blessed.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
I'm "THAT MOM"
this one is gonna be all over the place. like me. nothing new, I guess. . .
Most of you who know me know that my older daughter, Ester, has food allergies. The scariest one being to nuts. (We do not yet know if our younger daughter, Lucy, has a nut allergy). If you are involved in any of the places my daughter attends, you are aware of this allergy because it has affected you as well - everywhere we go, we are constantly reminding people of this and even go so far as to ask establishments to change their policies to create a safer environment for Ester: Our church children's area is now nut-free. Ester's school is now nut-free and her daycare already was nut-free which was one of the reasons we chose it.
I know I sound like a broken record. I know I'm "THAT MOM." I'm THAT MOM on the children's council reminding parents to bring nut-free treats to stuff our Easter eggs with. I'm THAT MOM calling out a parent when they drop off their kid with peanut butter crackers to pass out at daycare. I'm THAT MOM who then follows-up with the daycare to make sure some sort of alert or reminder goes out to parents after an event like that to try and avoid it from happening again. I'm THAT Mom that some of you may have rolled your eyes at because you are so sick of me bringing up Ester's allergy at the mention of any special event that would bring in any outside food around her.
And I understand why that can be frustrating for you. I get how it is an inconvenience. I get that you unintentionally brought something and the last thing you were thinking of was my daughter and her food allergy. I get that it's disappointing that the easiest thing, or maybe even the ONLY thing your kid wants to eat for lunch is a pb&j and now you can't pack it for your little one because of mine. I get it.
But i want you to try and get this:
I am also that mom who has rushed her child to the hospital because of contact with a peanut butter cracker. I am that mom who reassured her daughter that it was going to be okay while we raced to the E.R., half saying it to myself because I wasn't sure. I am that mom who has watched my daughter's face swell up so big that you literally could not see her eyes just from her touching pistachio shells that someone spit on the ground at the softball field. I am that mom that listened to her little one to see if the wheezing had stopped and wondered if this time we would have to use the epipen. I'm that mom that carries an epipen everywhere we go.
But more than all of it - I am that mom that wants what all moms want: My daughter to be safe.
I have pleaded with God to keep my baby safe. To make her alert to her surroundings, to give her favor and protection. I have prayed that God would help her teachers to take her allergy seriously and not shrug it off. I have asked that God would help Ester to not feel rejected when others do not understand, when they write her off as an annoyance.
And I've seen it. I've watched people become annoyed with the situation and as result, treat my child differently. I've listened to her little confused voice ask me why kids and even teachers have said certain things to her. And I've clenched my fists at that. I've worried and I've sat in anger. I've practiced conversations in my head that I would have if someone says this or if someone says that or if someone does x-y-z. . .
And time and time again, I do this. And time after time we have situations where Ester's safety is compromised due to a damn peanut or pistachio or whatever. And each time I cry and shake my fist and grit my teeth and worry. And each time . . . - God is good.
Today it happened again. My sweet girl was around peanut butter and had a reaction. Thankfully, this time, it wasn't anything that caused us to go to the hospital. It wasn't physical contact but airborne and so her reaction was not near as severe (Thank you, LORD). And while sitting in my anger and worry and fear, I prayed. I prayed that God would protect my child and help me to trust Him with her. He did, after all, give her to me in the first place. She is His. But still, in my prayer, I held on to it like it was something I could control better if I worried about it a little more.
And then this - God revealed it to me. The wrestle that I insist on - the worry that I will not let go of - It's pride. It's distrust. It's me holding onto tenuous self-reliance rather than resting in grace. It's worry-filled pride. Pride is a form of unbelief. My worry exposes this in my heart.
I'm gonna get really real here. I don't like this. Just because God revealed it to me and I am writing it here in my little blog doesn't mean that all of a sudden, I have had this beautiful epiphany and now I am worry-free! It doesn't mean I am going to stop being THAT MOM. It doesn't mean I won't still pray for God's provision and protection over my daughter(s) or that I will in any way stop being her biggest advocate. It simply means that I am trying to rest in a God who loves. A God who loves my daughter more than I ever could because He created her. It means saying that truth to myself, in spite of my unbelief. It means staring my unbelief in the face and choosing to remind myself of God's promises even if they feel too far off. I admit freely my anxieties - especially those concerning my daughters. And although it goes against everything I feel in the moment - I am trying to cherish the promise of God's grace (both current and future) - that He loves me and will care for me. I am trying to take Him at His word when He says:
Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. - 1 Peter 5:6-7
So the purpose for this blog is twofold:
1) To advocate for Ester by trying to explain the seriousness of food allergies and the like.
2) To expose my pride and unbelief in hopes of encouraging you to also choose to rest in God's promises, regardless of what you feel.
Most of you who know me know that my older daughter, Ester, has food allergies. The scariest one being to nuts. (We do not yet know if our younger daughter, Lucy, has a nut allergy). If you are involved in any of the places my daughter attends, you are aware of this allergy because it has affected you as well - everywhere we go, we are constantly reminding people of this and even go so far as to ask establishments to change their policies to create a safer environment for Ester: Our church children's area is now nut-free. Ester's school is now nut-free and her daycare already was nut-free which was one of the reasons we chose it.
I know I sound like a broken record. I know I'm "THAT MOM." I'm THAT MOM on the children's council reminding parents to bring nut-free treats to stuff our Easter eggs with. I'm THAT MOM calling out a parent when they drop off their kid with peanut butter crackers to pass out at daycare. I'm THAT MOM who then follows-up with the daycare to make sure some sort of alert or reminder goes out to parents after an event like that to try and avoid it from happening again. I'm THAT Mom that some of you may have rolled your eyes at because you are so sick of me bringing up Ester's allergy at the mention of any special event that would bring in any outside food around her.
And I understand why that can be frustrating for you. I get how it is an inconvenience. I get that you unintentionally brought something and the last thing you were thinking of was my daughter and her food allergy. I get that it's disappointing that the easiest thing, or maybe even the ONLY thing your kid wants to eat for lunch is a pb&j and now you can't pack it for your little one because of mine. I get it.
But i want you to try and get this:
I am also that mom who has rushed her child to the hospital because of contact with a peanut butter cracker. I am that mom who reassured her daughter that it was going to be okay while we raced to the E.R., half saying it to myself because I wasn't sure. I am that mom who has watched my daughter's face swell up so big that you literally could not see her eyes just from her touching pistachio shells that someone spit on the ground at the softball field. I am that mom that listened to her little one to see if the wheezing had stopped and wondered if this time we would have to use the epipen. I'm that mom that carries an epipen everywhere we go.
But more than all of it - I am that mom that wants what all moms want: My daughter to be safe.
I have pleaded with God to keep my baby safe. To make her alert to her surroundings, to give her favor and protection. I have prayed that God would help her teachers to take her allergy seriously and not shrug it off. I have asked that God would help Ester to not feel rejected when others do not understand, when they write her off as an annoyance.
And I've seen it. I've watched people become annoyed with the situation and as result, treat my child differently. I've listened to her little confused voice ask me why kids and even teachers have said certain things to her. And I've clenched my fists at that. I've worried and I've sat in anger. I've practiced conversations in my head that I would have if someone says this or if someone says that or if someone does x-y-z. . .
And time and time again, I do this. And time after time we have situations where Ester's safety is compromised due to a damn peanut or pistachio or whatever. And each time I cry and shake my fist and grit my teeth and worry. And each time . . . - God is good.
Today it happened again. My sweet girl was around peanut butter and had a reaction. Thankfully, this time, it wasn't anything that caused us to go to the hospital. It wasn't physical contact but airborne and so her reaction was not near as severe (Thank you, LORD). And while sitting in my anger and worry and fear, I prayed. I prayed that God would protect my child and help me to trust Him with her. He did, after all, give her to me in the first place. She is His. But still, in my prayer, I held on to it like it was something I could control better if I worried about it a little more.
And then this - God revealed it to me. The wrestle that I insist on - the worry that I will not let go of - It's pride. It's distrust. It's me holding onto tenuous self-reliance rather than resting in grace. It's worry-filled pride. Pride is a form of unbelief. My worry exposes this in my heart.
I'm gonna get really real here. I don't like this. Just because God revealed it to me and I am writing it here in my little blog doesn't mean that all of a sudden, I have had this beautiful epiphany and now I am worry-free! It doesn't mean I am going to stop being THAT MOM. It doesn't mean I won't still pray for God's provision and protection over my daughter(s) or that I will in any way stop being her biggest advocate. It simply means that I am trying to rest in a God who loves. A God who loves my daughter more than I ever could because He created her. It means saying that truth to myself, in spite of my unbelief. It means staring my unbelief in the face and choosing to remind myself of God's promises even if they feel too far off. I admit freely my anxieties - especially those concerning my daughters. And although it goes against everything I feel in the moment - I am trying to cherish the promise of God's grace (both current and future) - that He loves me and will care for me. I am trying to take Him at His word when He says:
Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. - 1 Peter 5:6-7
So the purpose for this blog is twofold:
1) To advocate for Ester by trying to explain the seriousness of food allergies and the like.
2) To expose my pride and unbelief in hopes of encouraging you to also choose to rest in God's promises, regardless of what you feel.
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