Saturday, March 24, 2012

Even wee ones...

Tonight as I lay in bed with Jackson, begging him to quit crying and to go to bed...something that is happening more often than EVER, I finally realized...

even wee ones hurt.

Maybe I'm over feeling the situation.  Maybe I see my hurt in him.  But I believe he hurts too.

I saw the acting out as a sign of hurting.  I saw the tears during her service.  But tonight I lay beside him as he cried and he put his hands on each side of my face like he used to do to her in bed and he bawled. 

My tears flowed, as they are now, unashamed.  He wiped them away and we hugged. 

Even the wee ones hurt.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

The Tough Side of Parenting

My family members' lives have been turned upside down lately. 

Daddy lives in a different house and we only see him on the weekends.  He is a VERY involved father so I feel the extra load and my kids have a missing piece to their daily puzzle.

My sweet, tired, ill mama went home to be with our Lord one week ago today.  We spent many days (and nights) in the hospital waiting room, while my kids spent many days (and nights) with my in-laws.  Bless them! She was my mama, but one of my little boy's favorite people.  Man, do we miss her.

We travel every weekend, where we sleep in a different bed every time. 

We have a new church home (that we love!), with new church members which means a new Sunday School teacher and nursery workers.

Some days it takes everything in me to drag my body out of bed, crawl through the day, limp home and tell myself "You get to do this again tomorrow!". 

I understand when my laid back boy throws the major tantrums that make my skin crawl, because sometimes I want to throw one too.

I understand Kennedy bawling her head off when I leave her, because I want to go bawl my head off even though I know she'll be fine in 5 minutes.

I understand when Jackson pees the bed 6 nights in a row after he's been potty trained (without ONE pull-up) for a whole year.  (This one, I have no connection to thankfully.)

My life is different than it's been...ever.  Thankfully I haven't felt the sting of judgment too many times, but I'm pretty sure I've inflicted it before without knowing her story.  My story is now different, therefore my kids' story is different. 

As we raise two kiddos, an almost 4 year old and a 1 year old, we're getting into the tough side of parenting.  Jackson didn't get to play his DS, watch Power Rangers or eat his cookie that he cried and had an F-I-T over last night.  Kennedy got her hand lightly swatted when she kept splashing in Wrigley's water bowl after being told "No".  She cried with her head on the floor, and my heart hurt that I had to leave her there.  Don't worry...Jackson got his cookie this morning.

But, I'm doing the best I can.   

So, I'm sorry for looking at your screaming child and tsking you.  I know you're doing your best too. 

And that's OKAY.  We'll get through this, you and me, parents of great kids who are just having a bad day or a rough go.  They're learning how to be big people and you know what?  So are we.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

There's a Peace I've Come to Know

Mamas are your first friend, your first confidant, your first everything.  You hide in their skirt folds.  You hold their hand in the mall.  They teach you to wear makeup, do your hair and countless other "firsts".  They listen to love woes.  They wipe tears.  They (lovingly) tell you when to 'buck up'.  They coach you through baby jitters.  They smile when they feel like crying.  They give up their slice of pie, when they really want to eat the whole thing.  They teach us, girls, how to be women, wives, mamas and friends.

To those who never had the privilege of knowing their mama, I am deeply sorry.  To those who only got to know them for a short while, I am deeply sorry.  To those who have been mothers to the motherless, bless you

So seeing how important mothers are to us, how can you explain a peace in your soul after losing your mama?  You can't.

I CAN say that "there's a peace I've come to know, though my heart and flesh may fail.  There's an anchor for my soul, I can say 'it is well'." 

I don't have to say that I like it. 
I don't have to say that it's easy. 
But, I can say "it is well". 

Even when my heart is breaking.  Even when my flesh feels angry.  My soul grabs on to that anchor that steadies me while I learn to cope again.

"Jesus has overcome and the grave is overwhelmed.  The victory has won, He has risen from the dead.  I will rise, when He calls my name.  No more sorrow, no more pain.  And I hear the voice of many angels sing, 'Worthy is the Lamb'. And I hear the voice of every longing heart, 'Worthy is the Lamb'."

Lord, You are worthy.  You are holy.  My heart hurts, my tears fall, normal is long gone.  But Lord, YOU are worthy all of honor, all glory and all praise.  In You I find the peace that passes ALL understanding.  Thank You, Jesus."