A Real Life Sunday Morning

Today started with such potential.

I woke up without an alarm before everyone else in the house (a minor miracle considering how much I like to sleep) and had a whole hour alone to sip coffee and finish the book that I've been lost in for days. Buoyed by the incredible, redemptive plot of Francine Rivers' Mark of the Lion series my heart was pondering how God really is in everything...how His Plan is often a slow unfurling...how we need to keep our perspective and not get sucked into circumstances.

As each child stumbled downstairs, the aroma of bacon mixed with coffee hung in the air. Like I said, the morning had such potential.

Then we realized we didn't have enough milk to make pancakes...or to fill cereal bowls...and the snowball of Sunday morning chaos was set into motion. I forgot something I needed for my Sunday School lesson. A boy's dress shoe was declared missing as we were hurrying to load--launching an all out family search throughout the house for almost 5 minutes--which made us late. I wish I had handled it like Mary Poppins, with creativity and joy. But back here in real life, anxiety, more contagious than a stomach bug in our home, quickly spread. Its symptoms were blame, snappiness and tears.

At the stop light halfway to church my husband glanced down at my coffee cup precariously balancing on my cup holder and quipped, "You know that is going to spill this morning too, right. Have you prepared yourself?"

When we made it the short 4 minute drive to our church parking lot I realized I had not yet managed to put on my make up. My ADD child burst into tears because he had forgotten to take his medication--or to eat his breakfast (a bad combo for our already frazzled kiddo.) My husband and I did a quick tour around the Sunday School classes--surely we could round up a doughnut or a biscuit. But, alas, we are Presbyterian not Baptist ;) and there were no breakfast foods to be found. 

As the call to worship began I sent my husband and 4/5 of our brood to be settled into the service while I took P on a quick ride to a convenience store a few blocks away for peanut butter crackers and a breather. A minor skirmish occurred with another child on the way out. He didn't want to stay at church and laid out his case for why he should be allowed to come with us. He did not take my answer well and continued to plead. Through clenched teeth and with a threat of docking his allowance I sent him back into the service. As he turned to walk away I watched the look on a deacon's face a few feet away. At first I thought he was trying to see if I needed back up, but realized he may have been observing to see if my son did.  

As I cranked the car P said, "Can you turn on some Christian music, Mom? We need it."

I exhaled a slight smile and heeded his request, knocking over the coffee cup in the process, wondering why my flesh falls for this so often. My heart soaring on heavenly thoughts, eternal perspective, godly pursuits and then something as insignificant as a lost shoe becomes a pinprick to my hope & joy-filled balloon. I crash from the serenity and peace of a 50,000 foot view to being lost in the weeds over such silly things. A reminder of how fickle the human nature can be!

Real life means running out of milk, children losing shoes, and far more challenging, anxiety-producing circumstances. But faith means knowing THIS is not all there is. Yes, we must handle our business here, but I pray we remember to cling to our perspective in the process. 

We found the shoe. We were right on time for church. I rounded up what I needed for the Sunday School lesson. The hungry belly was fed and back in the service by the announcements. I bought two gallons of milk after lunch. 

In the grand scheme of life...these were all such little things. What mattered most was my heart response and, frankly, it needs some work.

My favorite part of our Western vacation this Summer was the views.

The world is breathtaking from the right perspective. Weeds, potholes, and other minor defects blur into a beautiful landscape, not in spite of but because of the texture and depth they add. And so it is with this life. What seems overwhelming up close is awe-inspiring with a little bit of distance. 

While I wish I could invent a drone type machine that would suck me back up from the muck and the mire to a perspective that is always serene--I know I have something more reliable: the availability of the Holy Spirit at a moment's notice through the mere whisper of His name.

Most of us gird ourselves for the big chapters of life--the devastating phone calls, the major losses and life changes. It's inspiring to watch people rise to the occasion and be champions of the faith. But may we not forget that we are called to be faithful in even the little things. 

Yes, our children learn about having a real personal relationship with God from sermons, music and Sunday School--but they get to examine its authenticity in OUR lives through things like lost shoes and anxiety-riddled mornings.  Lord, I pray, you will meet me there and pull me out, bearing YOUR fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control. 

Tomorrow is a new day.

Trusting Him

I have a child with ADHD. I am not throwing this term around lightly. While we try to keep it in perspective, it is not always cute, funny or charming. ADHD is an incredibly frustrating disorder that impacts my child, his teacher, his classmates and his family.

I wish I could list all I didn't understand until I was in this position, but like so much of life it takes walking a mile (or a homework session) in someone else's shoes to get it. ADHD is not an excuse any more than asthma, diabetes or vision impairment. The condition is real and in the last twelve hours has caused many tears in my home.

My very bright son child spent two hours last night attempting to complete homework his siblings finished in thirty minutes. He went to bed in frustrated tears, after setting his alarm clock for 6am with promises that he could do it after a good night's rest. I woke up to the sound of him crying at midnight. He was so anxious that he wouldn't hear the alarm and wake up that he couldn't sleep. I laid in his bed with him until he fell asleep after 1am. This morning he spent another hour struggling to finish his work...not because of difficult content but because he couldn't focus...in a silent, barren room.

During the course of our three year journey with this disorder, we have seen four doctors. He has been on and off medication. We have modified his diet. We have encouraged exercise. We have added fish oil. We have limited screen time. We have timers and written schedules. We have tried neurofeedback. We have researched, talked, prayed and cried.

In many ways, this journey is a picture of parenthood. At each step I have felt conflicted, judged, bewildered and/or overwhelmed. Despite this or that convincing article or story you hear, treatment is not cut and dry. There is a lot of trying, evaluating, modifying and changing directions. It can be exhausting.

I adore this child. I hate this disorder. I don't expect the world to be modified for him--I want to equip him for the world he lives in. We have never demanded special treatment. I want desperately to protect his heart, yet, I want him to have the confidence that comes from facing challenges, working hard and overcoming them.

And sometimes, like this morning, I feel very alone in all of this.

Frustrated, tired and sad, I was not at my best this morning. Each time I had to redirect him I heard my tone grow a little sharper. When he couldn't find something AGAIN I blew it. Even as I apologized and reminded him his Daddy & I are on his team, I couldn't help but feel like I was dropping a wounded bird at school this morning instead of a loved up, confident young man.

I called a friend, then I went to the gym and got on the treadmill for some therapeutic, head clearing cardio. I prayed for patience, clarity and endurance. I wrestled with whether or not to e-mail his teacher. It's the second week of school. I vomited all these thoughts up to the Lord.

When I got off the machine and headed for my car I checked e-mail on my phone. I couldn't believe it when there was an email from the woman who runs our school's learning center. She was reviewing files and working on plans for the new school year and just wanted to have a conversation about my boy. She had not been contacted by the teacher. She did not know what had transpired with our homework debacle. God used her simple email to remind I was not alone. He was on other people's radar.

I called her and wept as I recounted the God timing of her email and the tremendous blessing of her outreach. I was reminded that, undeniably, THIS IS GOD'S BOY. I am NOT alone in this or any issue I am facing with my other children. They are HIS. He loves them and has a plan for them.

After I rejoiced in the tenderness of God to send this comforting reminder so quickly, I winced at an additional conviction: My motherly worries feel like love, but they are really a reflection of fear and a lack of trust in our Father.

My son is only nine years old. This is not the first or last time I will be tested.

I have recorded this story because I know I am not the only Mama that gets worked up. I am also not the only Mama that has a tendency to forget the tender mercies of our God.

I write this a reminder to anyone who feels alone in their worry--and to myself.

Our children are His, graciously entrusted to us.
God knows we won't be perfect.
He is writing a story in and on their hearts with us and in spite of us.
It is essential that we remain in close communication with the Lord on His next steps.
When we lean into the Lord in faith, He will show up.

Susie Davis wrote a beautiful post that spoke to my anxious, try-hard Mama heart with encouraging Scripture: Back to School Promises for Parents.

Trusting Him,
Jennifer

Life is a Chronic Condition

One of the benefits of being married to a doc is adding a few medical terms to my vocabulary. I cannot pronounce, explain or spell most of them--but there are a couple of gems that the nonmedical world is missing out on. Case in point: chronic vs. acute. The hyperlink will take you to an extensive definition of the differences, but basically an acute problem has a sudden onset, whereas a chronic one is more of a slow growing process.

In my own life, the importance of understanding this difference has come about with my children. Specifically, this Summer, as we were struggling with the great "medicate/don't medicate" debate for my child with an ADHD diagnosis. (Not feeling led to open that can of worms here at this point ;-)

As we pondered, prayed and discussed, one of my greatest aha moments in the ADHD journey came from the comments of a friend I consulted. She is a teacher and a mother of a child with the diagnosis, so I appreciated her multi-perspective take: "You can't think of it as an ailment to be cured, but instead as a chronic condition to be managed. Make the decision you need to make now, knowing it will likely be tweaked and changed over time."

In essence, she was telling me that this is a journey that will take twists and turns requiring me to adjust my course...not a puzzle to be solved once and for all. As insightful as her opinion was, frankly, I wanted to bang my head against a wall. I am a doer. I want to fix things once and for all, tie them up in neat little packages with knotted bows and place them on the shelf with a cute little tag defining the lesson I learned.

I became even more frustrated when I realized the implications of this on other issues I am dealing with in my life...one child's struggle with self control, another's issues with performance, my pride, challenging relationships. There are certainly acute life events--illnesses, accidents, unexpected circumstances--but the older I get, the more I am learning that MOST of life is chronic, not acute.

Perhaps this is the mellowness that comes with age...recognizing that we must pace ourselves for the long haul rather than constantly being bounced around emotionally and spiritually by the circumstances of life. These aren't the obstacles of life--these events ARE life. God is not surprised by them, He is active in them.

"All of those frustrations in work and personal life, family and faith, wherever we confront them, are part of our sanctification. They are part of our journey toward holiness. They are the steps we trod. The wonderful truth hidden in this realization is that every little thing greatly matters. It all has significance, the deadlines, the soccer practice, traffic tickets, marriage conflicts, skinned knees, oil changes, all of it. We don’t need to experience a singular, defining triumph to win in life. We’re not going to get one anyway. We are given a million little steps that bring us closer to God." -Joel J. Miller

Most of you probably figured this out a long time ago, but it is revolutionary for me--to stop trying to treat circumstances (and people-yikes!) like I can fix them once and for all--but instead to deal with the symptoms at the moment (other people's AND mine) and recognize them all as a part of the chronic human condition. Our sin condition has only one cure--and it won't be fully realized this side of heaven. We have to wake up every day, surrender ourselves to God's authority and deal with the way brokenness manifests itself in life.

We cling to the cross. We pray for peace & strength. We take what comes, trusting the One who holds the healing balm (and sometimes the scalpel) in our journey towards eternal wholeness.

Now I Do

My P is a kind, sensitive child, but he is very easily distracted. As a result, I frequently find myself redirecting him. Sunday was a particularly challenging afternoon. Each chore took him much longer than it should and manners were not even remotely on his radar screen during dinner. I felt like a real nag. I could sense that he was feeling a little down.

As I was tucking him in at bedtime, I looked right in his little face and said something that I honestly thought could go without saying.
"Hey, do you know that I love you as much as my heart can love?"
"Yes," he grinned sweetly.
"Did you know that whether you forget everything or remember everything doesn't make a difference to my heart? I love you just the same."
A big wide smile spread across his face as he replied, "I didn't know that part... but now I do."

My first reaction was bittersweet.
Uggghh. My fragile Mama heart hurt a little. How did he not know that? I tell him all the time how much I love him--had my actions sent a different message? Even as I know I need to teach him life skills like using a fork and not dining like a cave man, I was disappointed in myself.

As I walked out of his room a little voice whispered to my heart.
"...but you told him and now he knows. Don't forget to keep telling them how you love them. Nag them with that the way you nag about other less important things."

It was a reminder to me that we can tell our kids (or other people in our lives) how we feel--that they are loved, valued and accepted-- but sometimes our actions and life in general require that we tell them again and again.

We learn as we go and I find myself feeling a bit like P. I am easily distracted. I need reminding. And when God sweetly reiterates His unconditional love (regardless of my performance) it brings me great joy.

We all need reminding.

7 Year Old Self Control

K, P & R seem to be finally settling into the 1st grade routine...but Self Control is certainly the buzz phrase around here. I find that it is a very fine line between having age-appropriate behavior expectations and constantly challenging my children to rise to the next level. I am also learning that teaching/training the discipline of self control takes on a new meaning for a family with a Christian world-view.

I want to raise confident children--but it is my prayer that their confidence will be ultimately in God. At this age and stage it involves teaching them to ask for His help with self control. It seems appropriate to use their struggles (and mine) to point out our need for Him. I have been reading a mainstream parenting book (specifically directed at ADHD, as that is an issue for one of mine). Of particular interest to me were some of the suggestions for self talk statements/phrases that you can teach your children to tell themselves when they become insecure, overwhelmed or frustrated.

This afternoon I decided to write these on sticky notes and put them in various places around our home. I modified the language slightly, to reflect our belief system that it is not all about 'them' and what they can 'muster' or make happen within themselves.
"I can do this."
"God & I can handle this situation." (Philippians 4:13)
"God & I can work this out." (Romans 8:28)
"Relax, pray and think this through." (Philippians 4:6-7)
"Getting upset won't help anything."

As I was working on this tonight I couldn't help but think I am going to benefit greatly from those little sticky note reminders too!