Reality and Resilience

Most days I wake up with my mind rolling through my schedule like a news ticker at the bottom of my brain.  It’s always there – scrolling and drawing me back to it – like a flashing “don’t forget!”  I find it hard to focus on what is plainly on the screen of my awareness. That damn ticker just keeps scrolling and distracting.  It’s been this way since being baptized by the motherhood fire 2 years ago.  Many messages I heard before the boys came home were:

“You can’t do this – bring 3 kids home and work. It’s too much.”

“You’re bringing 3 children home at once? That’s a lot.”

“How are you going to do that?”

I have always had an “I can do anything” attitude.  One of my mantras was LL Cool J’s “Doin’ it and doin’ it and doin’ it well.” So when people said these things to me, I was like “I got this. Watch me.”  Holy sheet, after 2 years of them home now it’s like, “I clearly don’t have this.  Don’t even look at me.” 

So the scrolling ticker in my brain is the last thread of “nailing it” I have left.  I am thankful because it keeps me going on most days and helps me meet the demands.  And I have also learned how it distracts and keeps me from being present.  I am constantly in schedule mode or “what is next.”  That ticker helps me not be caught off guard or miss something in a family of 5.  And I am thankful for that part of me.  And I have also missed out on a lot of joy and just being alive.  I moved so quickly and fiercely into parenting that now 2 years later I’m looking back and noticing where I missed some really important cues of just being right here, right now. 

Some hard realities I have faced as a new mother:

1    1. My hormones are jacked up just as if I birthed 3 babies. Post-partum depression is a very real possibility for any kind of new mom.

2    2. I cannot just go to work and plan my day as usual. I have soccer practices and games, doctor and other appointments (x3), etc.  There are 3 little men in my care to teach how to boil water, how to drive, and how to treat young women.  No pressure.

3    3. I have lost my identity somewhere along the way. I miss the fun girl I used to be – who dropped plans last minute and went to grab drinks with a friend or packed gear up for the weekend to camp with my husband.  She is still there, but she is in a corner of my mind grieving her lost freedoms.

4    4. I am lonely.  My friends are also in this stage of life, so I can’t just call someone up to go out on a whim. I contacted at least 10 friends last weekend to go see “Bad Moms” with me – NO ONE could go.  They were all out of town or busy being in this same stage of life we are all trying to figure out.

5    5. My marriage gets the shaft.  Conversations are about schedules, meal plans, someone’s health needs, school meetings, homework, clothing needs for growing boys, how to fit soccer club in the budget, and how to manage their trauma and special needs. None of this is in the least bit sexy.  We stare at each other not recognizing the other person sometimes. We are exhausted and hungry for deeper connection.

6    6. My needs don’t get prioritized. And when I do prioritize them, I feel guilty about the cost or time spent. I “should have spent that time or money some other way.”

7    7. Everything costs more, and I have a hard time budgeting for the constant unknowns of raising 3 kids.

8    8. There are more things I could add to this list, but the ticker just distracted me to the other things I need to do today and that I should probably wrap this up.

I am not knocking motherhood.  I am grateful for these boys. I am flooded with joy and gratitude when I remember seeing their little bodies crowd into a hot dirty room for “school” in an orphanage and now see them adorably run down our driveway to catch the bus after having a solid meal.  It’s those moments I let the ticker just roll, and I turn my gaze and attention to the miracle of their being.  I am reminded of who they are and who they are becoming. And I am part of their story. I am reminded of the first time I held them, the time I came home and told Todd I had met our children, the time we held each other and sobbed because we spent 2 blissful days with them before having to board a plane and leave them behind in a different orphanage with new faces, “new” soiled mattresses, and my old Bible with Psalm 139 bookmarked.  I am reminded of the beauty of being pregnant in the wait and then laboring in delivery - even in adoption.  And I am reminded what a toll that takes on parents, on marriages, and on our bodies.  I am in awe of the resilience we can muster.

Today I woke up hopeful. I noticed the ticker scrolling. And I also noticed it was Saturday.  I slept in a little longer. I asked my oldest son about the football game last night and about his time with his girlfriend.  I smelled the bacon Todd cooked for them. I poured my coffee and wrote this blog.  I am living.  I am doing the best I can. And I've got more blog posts up my sleeve about how I am making it in the midst of items 1-8 above.

I’ve got this.  Go ahead and watch me. 

Getting Curious

I could feel the fire deep in my chest after reading the many posts after the Orlando shootings. I always get overwhelmed by conflicts of opinions, finger pointing, scolding, shaming, and statements of “this could have been avoided by…” It didn’t get avoided. It happened.  It hurts. People are grieving.  And when something terrible has happened, of course we all have parts of us that want to get to the root of where and how it all went wrong and STOP the madness.  But the madness rages on as we point fingers at each other and shame the other “side” for their “choices, behaviors, etc.” What if we all got curious about one another? What if we had compassion for another person’s story and became intent on loving in spite of differences?

I’m not trying to bring back the WWJD bracelets, but Jesus seems like a good example to me of loving well…of being curious about someone, showing compassion, listening, and then offering solutions without shame and judgment.  He invited tax collecting Zacchaeus down out of the tree and had dinner with him.  He saved the adulterous woman from being stoned and called out her attackers.  In every story I’ve ever read of Jesus, He loved first.  He got curious.   He had compassion for even the most “unlovable” people. 

No matter what side any of us are on, what if we got curious about the other side? What if we get to know them and ask them questions about their beliefs? What if we kept on loving them no matter their answers and how different they are from ours? I had to take a step back after reading some posts that I strongly disagreed with. I felt the rage. I reached out to my safe people to say I was mad.  I could have blasted them publicly.  But I knew it wouldn’t help.  Hate upon hate, as far as I can tell, has never solved the problem. But more love, again as far as I can tell, goes a long way.  And I feel more settled today being really curious about people who feel differently than I do. I know it is always important to fight for what you believe in – because if you are for gun control, then speak up.  If you are against abortion, then speak up.  If you love people, advocate for them.  If you are for something, say so. If you are against something, fight to stop it. And then set your weapons down just for a second and look at the solider on the other side of the lines and try your hardest to love them anyway.  Love wins the battle.

Picture Perfect

One of the common things I hear from clients, family, or friends is that everyone feels "less than" when they look on Facebook or Instragram and see photos of other people who seem to have their lives together. Or maybe we are only posting pictures of what we think makes us look good? What is it we want to communicate to the rest of the world when we post that selfie, flawless family montage, or our kid’s trophy pic? Are we asking for attention, admiration, love, acceptance? If we are honest, of course most of us are.  As a society we have become lonely, not engaging in real-time, and we draw from the “likes” of almost strangers online to get us through the day.  So we post another picture, story, blog, article to connect with someone.  Connecting with others is so good and healthy…until it isn’t a real connection anymore.  Are we being honest with our posts? Vulnerable? And should we really be that vulnerable with EVERYONE?  What is safe to share and what isn’t?  And maybe we are completely intending to be honest and vulnerable, but what the viewer perceives is not what we intended to show.  An example…

This photo is not the reflection of perfection, having it all together, or marital bliss. Many comments we received on this photo were of course kind and generous, but I laughed thinking, “They have no idea what was going on in my mind when we took this photo!” If I could give the most accurate caption it would be:

This is an image of a married couple who finally got out together for a night out with other adults – to watch an adult concert, to drink adult beverages, and have adult conversation. This is the picture of a couple who fought tirelessly 4.5 years to bring their children home and fights now to advocate for them and raise them in a culture that makes no sense to them.  We are holding each other tight because we know our relationship is the giant thread holding this family sweater together.  On any given day I’m near unraveling.  So is he.  But when we draw close, we get stronger.  Our kids get stronger.  We took a long weekend away recently to go to counseling.  Yes, counseling. Not because our marriage is in trouble, but because we don’t want it to be.  Life is hard, and we have issues just like any other couple.  We are smiling because we know we are going to be okay in the midst of hard…and we are working our butts off for that.

So when you see our “Barbie and Ken” photo on Facebook or Instagram, please don’t for one second believe our lives are easy and perfect. When you see our kids’ photos playing soccer, or read my blogs, or see our family snapshot, my intention each time is to connect with someone out there who may be feeling like I am. And I’ve started trying to see other people’s posts the same way – what if behind every “perfect photo” there’s a deeper story, hurting person, a challenge that has been overcome? And what if we could see that as the most beautiful part of the photo?  Try on some new lenses as you scroll social media today.

JOY?

I drive by this church's interesting quotes daily.  Most of the time I don't notice.  Today I noticed.  And I got angry.  I totally appreciate someone sharing their thoughts. It is not my intent to shame another for their opinion and insights. Freedom of speech, right?  And still something inside me just boiled.  I have done lots of "putting myself last" lately, and I haven't felt joy.

I know Matthew 22:37-39 - the verse about loving God with all your heart and soul.  And then it goes on to talk about loving your neighbor as yourself. It does not say "more than yourself" or "before yourself." It saddens me to think that drivers-by are being told that to have joy there must be an order to things and that you put yourself last. I'd like to share personally what happens when you put yourself last.

You know the announcement on the airplane when you get in, get cozy, and buckle your seatbelt? They tell you, "If we should lose cabin pressure, the oxygen masks will fall, and you need to secure your mask first before helping someone else with theirs." I've referenced this many times in blogs and with my clients in session. The point is that you cannot help someone else if you can't breathe. Love your neighbor as yourself. Help your neighbor as yourself.  All of us have equal rights to air.

Most people reading this know me and my story, but just in case you don't, I am a mother of 3 recently adopted adolescent children. I also run my own private counseling practice. A lot of my time is spent taking care of other people and tending to their needs and pain - helping them with their oxygen masks. I'm not complaining about this. I love my kids, and I love my job. And I am exhausted. I usually do the order of things in the church sign, sadly probably even neglecting my relationship with God to put other people first. And there is nothing about this that has brought me joy. Do I find joy in my children? Yes. Do I find joy in helping my clients? Yes. But I would not define ultimate Joy as putting myself last. I have just secured everyone else's oxygen masks and then started gasping for air. 

I realized this to be true recently whenever I was losing patience with my children, feeling burned out at work, and was getting angry about everything - like one dirty dish not being done. Turning up the volume on Radiohead was not for enjoyment but for sanity.  So this weekend Todd took the kids away on a trip. I was supposed to go with them for a soccer tournament. I wrestled with the guilt – what kind of mom am I if I don't go on this trip with my family and watch my kid play soccer? I'll tell you what kind of mom I am – one that's about to be passed out with her oxygen mask still dangling above her head. So at dinner on Thursday night I broke it to the boys that I would not be going with them this weekend. I explained that mom needed a little break to take care of herself. Surprisingly this was embraced well by all of them. Woody even said, "Mom you should take a spa day. Just take your mind off everything.  I saw that on TV."

I cannot even begin to explain to you what this weekend has been like for me. I have rediscovered things about myself. I subscribed to Apple Music and streamed tons of new tunes I love. I danced to it in my kitchen while I made my favorite gluten-free cookies. And I listened to the explicit versions, because my kids weren't  home, and sometimes the bleeped out versions just aren't enough for how I need to express myself. I signed up for Stitch Fix – a personal online stylist who will send me a shipment of clothes based on my style and personality profile. This meant I had to really think about my style and personality. I haven't done that in forever. And what I found out about myself I actually really liked. I colored. I cried. I found a new wine I liked. I did take that spa day Woody told me to take. I had tea with a friend and heard myself say things out loud that needed to be heard and witnessed. I realized that almost everything I wanted to get done this weekend still got done when I tended to them as I was pulled toward them rather than how I placed them with urgency on a Post-it note. I sat outside and watched the deer play in my backyard while I talked to Jesus and let him love me just as I was – still in my pajamas and not getting ready for church. I was already there. I wrote this blog. I love writing, and I remembered how it felt to be creative and share my heart.  And I found so much grace for whoever put their creative acrostic on that church marquee. I just respectfully disagree.  

This weekend I felt joy. And I was not putting myself last.  For the first time in a long time I prioritized myself. I secured my oxygen mask. And I  also can't wait to see my husband and kids tonight. By connecting with myself, I also connect (and deeper) with Jesus and others.  I think of Joy as Jesus, Others, and Yourself - in no particular order, but in a beautifully interwoven relationship where all are necessary with every breath.

No Room in the Inn

The season of advent is always so enlightening to me.  Christmas is a time to celebrate the birth of Jesus, but there are these weeks before that are dark and riddled with pain and inconveniences.  Mary traveled many miles on a donkey only to be told there was no room in the inn.  Can you imagine settling in for the night on your pillow of hay to give birth to a KING?  I’ve not been through child birth, but I know this had to suck.  No drugs, no cozy bed, no nurses.  How frightened she and Joseph must have been  - to feel so alone and helpless with this great responsibility of bringing a child in to the world and now raising whom they’ve been told will be the world’s Savior.  No pressure, guys.  Eventually some shepherds and wisemen came along bearing comfort and gifts.  This is the part most of us want and choose to think about – who wants to think about all that darkness?

A dark room is still used for most photo development.  The real picture, color, and story really comes through after an appropriate season of darkness.  It is not meant for harm.  It is for development.  Advent is like the period of darkness where we watch and wait for the full beautiful picture to unfold. And waiting in the dark is brutal for most of us.  Here’s our story. Go ahead and grab your coffee or Moscow mule and settle in…

We sold our house and had to be out on 11/23. We closed on our new house on 12/4, however, because of some repairs and painting, we will not move in until Wed 12/9.  So we will have been “homeless” just over 2 weeks.  And even though there was vacancy, it feels like there is no room in the Brentwood Residence Inn.  We are crammed in here with each other’s dysfunction just pouring out on each other.  We spent the first week visiting family out of town, so we checked in here already with some traveling scars – you know – the residual of those uncomfortable family interactions and avoidance, 11 + hours in a car each way, a barfing kid in the car after being in one spot in traffic for over an hour, almost hitting a 12 point buck just a few miles from home, and then wearing my husband’s underwear the next day because all my clothes got wet from the supposed waterproof luggage rack.  No, we didn’t ride a donkey here, and we’re not sleeping on hay, but I kind of get it.  It has been dark and uncomfortable – not what we planned.  And if feels like there is no room in this inn for hope, comfort, and joy of the season. I’m driving by houses with lights and Christmas trees and feeling a little displaced.  I’m still in the dark – waiting for the lights. So I bought this tiny poinsettia for our room. I’m bringing some Christmas joy up in here, dang it!

And my intent is not to complain.  We just bought a cute and cozy home in Williamson County, a beloved area and school district in our state.  So, “oh woe is me – I have to wait for painters to finish my happy home in cushy Franklin.” Right? I absolutely cringe when I think of people living on streets, hospitals, and orphanages.  So then I think “stop complaining, suck it up, you’re fine.”  And this also gets me in trouble.  This isn’t about a comparison. I can have compassion for them AND me.  Our dark is obviously different.  And I can still honor the darkness we each go through.  We are all in need of the Light.  I can only hold and know my own darkness and tell its story.  And it’s not about “I can’t get in my new house yet.”  It is the pain of transition.  It is the discomfort of waiting.  It is feeling displaced and alone.  It is my season of advent. But then someone will text and say, “hey I’m bringing your family some papa murphy’s pizza at the hotel.” Or a teacher from the boys’ school emails to say, “bring your boys over to play – we’ve been in your situation before and know you need space.” It’s another family taking our children in for a night so we can go on a long overdue date.   The shepherds and wisemen show up with comfort and gifts.  I take a lot of deep breaths to remind myself we won’t be in transition forever.  This is just a season. I am thankful for a Savior who came to this world as a human, fully feeling and experiencing life like the rest of us. His birth teaches me that all hope and growth starts in the dark.

THERE IS ALWAYS  HOPE. LIGHT COMES EVENTUALLY.  WAIT EXPECTANTLY,  DEAR FRIENDS. 

Essentials

Pack only what is essential. These were the instructions I gave my kids last week as we packed up our home and filled our suitcases. We sold our house and had to be out on 11/23/15.  We close on our new house on 12/4/15.  So we have about two weeks between where we are wandering – living out of our suitcases, visiting family for Thanksgiving in Missouri and Oklahoma, and eating free hot breakfasts at the Brentwood Residence Inn. We are on Day 1 of this journey.  I’m sure I’ll have lots to report. But here’s what I’m really noticing so far – pack only what is essential.  We had to pack in our luggage what we needed for those two weeks, and it really made me so aware of what we really cannot live without.

We filled bags full of clothes, toys, and other things to take to goodwill. We sold furniture and home goods.  We recycled and threw things away.  Then what we wanted but was not essential right now went into storage.  What was essential stayed with us for these 2 weeks. And our essentials might sound strange to you, but yours might sound strange to us.  This is all okay.  We’re not supposed to be the same. I have a favorite blanket that had to come.  Carl cannot live without the random music playlists he dances to on his iPad.  Woody packed a soccer ball.  Wilnes had a drawer full of items that he wasn’t sure he would need these 2 weeks but said “but what if I do need them?” Which told me it was essential to him to feel like he could access his comforts.  Todd packed his work backpack.  I packed other things like sea salt, essential oils, and a heating pad. And these are just a few of our essentials, but they represent our personalities and lives so plainly. 

I drove up to the storage unit to drop some things off and saw all 3 of my boys kicking a soccer ball around outside the rows of storage units. They were laughing and having so much fun.  There they were in the middle of all these rows of people’s “stuff,” and I couldn’t help but cry with happiness and peace. It was such a reminder to me to notice the beauty of simplicity and relationship in the midst of the chaos of moving and storing. Everything that was essential was playing right in front of me or packed up in the jeep to go with us. 

And of course I would be so sad to lose my favorite chair in storage.  I’m not trying to be all “hey, just go sell all your stuff and live off the love of your family.”  I am looking forward to our new house and getting all my items back out to make “home.”  But on this leg of the journey, I continue to notice and be really thankful for the essentials I am carrying with me.  And I enter this holiday season being so mindful that the random toy on the Target shelf would just go to goodwill or storage eventually.  I want to focus on what is essential as I think about myself and loved ones during this time of gratitude and gift-giving…what will enrich our lives, personalities, and truest selves?

If you had to pack up most of your belongings and keep just a few things with you…

~What would you sell or give away? Why?

~What would you throw away? Why?

~What would you put in storage for later? Why?

~What is essential to you that you need to keep with you? Why?

~What do you notice being most thankful for?

~How does thinking about these questions impact your view of the holidays and gift-giving?