The Red Sea

My friend asked me the other day how long did I second guess our decision to adopt our three children. I answered that there are days when I still second guess our decision. What I'm second guessing is not my children but rather my suitability to be their mother. It seems to me that he chose the wrong mother for my particular children. Why would he choose me, one so short on mercy, patience and most of the other fruits of the spirit to mother children who need those fruits more than most. Wouldn't it have been better to choose a mother who loves to cuddle and play? A mother who is naturally merciful and compassionate?

I'm not one to question God but sometimes I question God. I can relate to Moses when he called him to address King Pharoah. " Who will I say sent me? In other words, This is too big for me!  I'm not equipped. " That's because it was too big for Moses.  As I recall Charlton Heston ended up with a bushy white beard on the Ten Commandments and it wasn't exactly a smooth road for him even though God was with him. He did give him special powers like a stick that turned into a serpent among other perks like a personal spokesman. I think I could use the serpent/stick some days around here. I've also noticed that God has his own time table and doesn't rush, ever! That's a hard one for me. Now is better than later in my book. Still, Moses got to witness the Red Sea open up to save the Israelites and to show God's incredible glory. He didn't get to actually go into the promised land himself but I'll not dwell on that particular point right now. 

Did Moses feel equipped to do the job that God called him to do? He did not. Did God provide everything Moses needed to rescue his people? He most certainly did! Can God make me into the kind of mother that my children need? I think so.

Follow me and I will make you

Make you speak My words with power,

Make you vessels of My mercy,

Make you helpful every hour.

 

Follow Me, and I will make you...

Make you what you cannot be-

Make you loving, trustful, godly,

Make you even just like me. 

 

 

 

 

A Three Hour Tour

The sunset catamaran tour from Jamaica was our favorite memories from our last trip to Jamaica so of course we couldn't wait for another opportunity this year. The afternoons had started getting windy at the resort so we wondered if they might cancel it for wind. They did not. We decided to place our confidence in the captain of the ship and The Lord God of course. Well the Lord God decided to show off his power and remind us how small and helpless we truly are.

My first clue that this would be a very different trip was when stepping onto the boat, they insisted on practically lifting us on board because the boat kept moving away from the dock.

I would be remiss not to mention the colorful characters traveling with us on on the S.S. Minnow.  One of the newlyweds who I will refer to as smashed girl promptly told us that her new husband was mad at her because she likes this tropical "blank"and he doesn't. I'm not hopeful for that marriage. Boarded on a boat in Jamaica is not the time to find this information out. There was another young couple, tacky thong bathing suit girl and "don't give up on your dream tattoo boy who took photos of his thonged bride for the entire ride. Lovey and Thurston Howell III would not have been impressed. Thankfully there was a sweet southern couple from North Carolina , also newlyweds but neither smashed, tattooed nor thonged. They seemed genuinely happy to be married to each other and they renewed my hope for the future of our country.

The rest were mostly middle aged and happy to be escaping the bitter cold of the Northern states. Either that or the rum punch was kicking in.

The captain changed the route to mostly hugging the coast because of the wind. I think this was a wise decision. A dolphin joined our fun and put on a delightful show for us, jumping in and out of the ocean.  We stopped to swim but I found the waves too powerful so didn't stay out long. I was proud I went in at all as swimming in the ocean scares me!

The crew turned up the music and did a fun imitation of dancing like Michael Jackson to Billy Jean. It was time to sail back, normally timed for the sun to go down. The sail went up, the sun went down and the waves started getting huge, Master and Commander huge. 

I decided to "roll" with it and enjoy the ride. What choice did I have? I felt like I was at Six Flags riding one of those rides with warnings for Pregnant women and people who have heart conditions, only I was not buckled in. We were going against the wind so were making slow progress back to the resort. The sunset was barely mentioned as we were all afraid to let go of the railing to take photos. I truly feared for smashed girl's safety and hoped she was sitting down somewhere after making up with her husband.  Thong girl and tattooed boy's photo snapping also slowed during our bumpy return. Several crew members stationed themselves at the bow to assist passengers who wanted to move or to alert the captain in case someone went overboard. The crew had amazing sea legs and were solid as wooden soldiers. We were very impressed with them.

A few of the passengers were not feeling well but most everyone else seemed to do ok. I felt fine and Mr. Jakstadt, loving all things marine, was have a swell time riding the waves.

I kept my eyes on the captain who didn't seem particularly panicked but I'm sure that's part of his training. It's a good policy as what can he really do at the mercy of giant waves but sail on. Moms and teachers must practice this on a regular basis in order to survive a classroom of children or even one or two of them during stressful times. He performed well, serious but not overly so.

We made it safely back, way after dark and again were lifted back onto the dock. The crew was very cool and didn't act at all like they had barely made it back to shore. All I can say is, Mr. Jakstadt really knows how to show me a good time. It was a fine show all around and not a bad way to spend an evening.


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I Have Hope

The mind of a 6th grade boy, who can understand it? Or better yet, who can survive it? I'm beginning to think, not me! My son has been a difficult one to understand since the day he bounded into my life at the age of 4. He is Oscar and I am Felix. He is Pigpen and I am Lucy. You get the picture. Let's say our relationship is complicated and exhausting and that was before the age that he is now, 11 going on argumentative and uncooperative.

Enter puberty. He is suddenly interested in gelling his hair yet, still not interested in taking a bath. He's requesting dark jeans and an Under Armour hoodie for Christmas and legos. He states that he does indeed want to pass 6th grade yet doesn't see the correlation between completing homework or studying for tests and his goal. There's too much playing and pestering to be done. Are these signs that he is growing up? Please God, let him grow up a little. I'm doubtful that this is imminent judging from what I see everyday and from what my friends who have raised sons tell me. Yet, I have hope. As long as I have God's word to encourage me, I have hope.

I was reminded just the other day in one of our Advent devotions that God sees things others don't. Samuel, the prophet traveled to see Jesse to anoint his son David as God's choice to be Israel's king, rejecting all his other sons that looked more the part. And as I recall later, David had some not so stellar moments and still God called him a man after his own heart. This gives me hope for my son.  I  just need to find a field somewhere for my son to tend sheep and fight off lions and bears and learn from God.

The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. 1 Samuel 16:7

It's Worth the Messy Mess

I'm celebrating my survival of 14 messy days with my three precious grand babies, their parents, and all their baby stuff. It was touch and go and not without tears but those were due to a turkey incident when tensions were especially high. Incidentally, I do not have a good track record with turkeys. I remember another memorable year when we had guests that were not family and the turkey was simultaneously raw on the inside and charred to a crisp on the outside. Those guests never returned to our house for Thanksgiving and I don't blame them. Turkeys are not my friends.

Laura and Kristen on the other hand are my very best friends and my favorite people to be with and are in a very messy season of life with their little ones. And by messy, I mean my sweater getting soaked when Bridget's diaper was apparently saturated immediately after visiting Santa. The adorable cousin picture with Santa that we got was worth that mess. Being with them was also worth the mess of baby stuff covering every surface high and low in my house. This is huge for someone who is unable to go to bed with dishes in the sink or pillows out of place on the couch. I would have taken a picture of the family room but was unable to find a place to perch where baby or beast or baby item was not. It was worth the mess to spend one evening watching and laughing at home movies when Laura and Kristen were babies and I let them eat pop tarts off the floor. This horrified these sanitized millennial mommies but I stand by my parenting. Pop tarts are my friends.

Although I purchased paper plates and plastic cups to use, somehow they were hardly used. Instead our dishwasher had to be loaded and run continually to keep up with the dishes that were dirtied. This mess was worth having Lucy help me make reindeer cookies and an "apple bie" just to hear her say "apple bie" and watch her lick the sugar off her entire hand. A girls got to do what a girls got to do for the sweet stuff!

I also got to keep Wyatt for his very first overnight, giving Kristen and Ben a brief time away. Getting to bathe Wyatt's little body as he babbled and splashed in the big rubber duck and later having him fall asleep in my arms at bedtime was too sweet for words.

Though I am glad to be able to see my floor again, I already miss seeing their sweet morning faces. I know that the next time I see them, they will have grown up a little bit more. I am blessed to have these little people in my life with all their unbearable sweetness. They are definitely worth the mess.

A Wonderful Surprise

We kept our two granddaughters, Lucy (2 1/2) and Bridget (5 months) for one day/night to give Laura and Jason, their mommy and daddy a well needed break. Armed with several bags of frozen breast milk, a double stroller and surprisingly few instructions compared to keeping Lucy overnight for the first time, I was ready. What a difference baby number two makes! Oh and I had 3 willing helpers, our three younger children at the ready to entertain and help. My help however mysteriously disappeared when the time came for changing dirty diapers and getting up for Bridget's night time feedings. Still, having a 10 and 11 year old to give Lucy piggy back rides and help with getting diapers and bath towels and sippy cups and Daddy Owl and Baby Owl and pajamas and more cheese and more milk and a brush to brush Lucy's glorious hair was awesome! And how can I ever forget Lucy dancing while Lucas practiced his saxophone.

It was a blissful time to spend with two of our newest family members. I just can't resist Bridget's chubby arms and legs and Lucy's adorable voice saying Geee Geee and Opps and Chipmunk for the first time. Time has no meaning at all when babysitting. It's moment to moment with babies, a nice chance to slow down and see the world through their brand new eyes. I spent my entire day mostly on the floor watching Bridget mesmerized by what her feet and her hands could do and a furry moving being,  Roxy our very patient dog. I was doing my best to keep up with Bridget's every 3 hour feedings and every 2 hour naps. Or did I have that backwards?

I couldn't help but see God's beautiful hand in our family. Of course, He saw this day before the beginning of time when our young children would play with our grandchildren and that they would love each other to pieces. But it is a wonderful surprise to me.

California Dreaming

Visited beautiful Newport Beach, California today on our annual girls' trip. This year we have not one, but two babies in tow as both Laura and Kristen are still nursing their youngest ones. It was a short trip to the beach because of the babies, hardly worth the sunscreen application, but one that I will never forget. Laura and I have come to check out Kristen and Ben's new digs in California. Yes, she moved too many miles away from us! It's fun to look back on our girls' trips of past years. Our activities have changed dramatically since our first trip five years ago. On our first trip, shopping encompassed at least half of our trip, interspersed with luxurious dining and margaritas, long walks by the Charleston harbor filled with meaningful conversations and of course more shopping. Babies have a way of changing one's life to the fullest.

Radioactive Margaritas

This year we had precious little shopping time and our meals resembled a Chinese Fire Drill as it was a race against time when one or both babies needed to be nursed, fed, changed or held, usually all of the above. It's uncanny. It must be their brand spanking newborn noses that smell piping hot food that rouses them from their slumber. It's not in their best interest as their mommas need to eat to produce milk! My girls are also very attentive mothers, much more than I was. I don't remember their crying bothering me quite as much as it bothers them but this could be God's grace that I forgot. On the way home from attending church one evening we had to stop and pick up pizza. Both babies were inconsolable for one of the above reasons, producing a cacophony in Kristen's minivan. Wyatt in particular began his hyperventilating cry. Desperation ensued and at one point, Kristen yelled out," George save us!" as she thrust her PBS Kids Curious George app on her IPhone for me to give to her 8 month old son. And this was right after singing praise to Jesus! Of course she didn't actually attend the service. She volunteered to let Laura and I listen to the message while she strolled Bridget around the book store. I will therefore give her a pass on her misdirected statement of salvation. It didn't work anyway. Meanwhile I was waiting in line behind a very relaxed group of people to sample various micro brew beers before ordering their pizza. The contrast between the stress in the minivan and the relaxed group in the pizza place couldn't have been greater.

Margarita time!

Now that I think about it, I do remember trying to appear that I had it all together with my babies when I really didn't. I think I just tried to hide it better. I also remember listening outside their door to hear if they had stopped crying. I was also the thinnest I've ever been because my diet consisted of whatever I could grab while standing at the kitchen counter while I wasn't feeding, holding or changing. Who am I kidding, I was equally stressed!

As you can see, going out was somewhat stressful so we spent lots of time on the floor of Kristen's house playing with Wyatt and Bridget. This was easier on all of us and quite enjoyable, once we gave up on the idea of luxurious shopping. We did have a full 20 minutes of speed shopping when Laura almost purchased Jason a pair of socks she knew he wouldn't wear! Mostly though we slowed down our pace and had a wonderful time experiencing the world through Wyatt and Bridget's eyes, playing with blocks and rattles and busy boxes. We watched Wyatt stand independently for a few seconds as he prepares to take his first steps and Bridget practice grabbing things and smiling and cooing. I can still remember the sweet sound of her voice.

I'm sad that it's over as I had looked forward to it since last year. I especially enjoyed spending uninterrupted time with the youngest members of our family and with my equally sweet big girls. Maybe the babies are the ones who have it right. Just hanging out with their mommies and Gigi is the best way to spend our precious time together. It takes some of us awhile to get it.

and a little child will lead them. Isaiah 11:6

Way Down Yonder By the Chattahoochee

As an elementary school teacher with a reading specialization, I'm all for children reading as much as possible. Reading after all is vital to learning. Reading can take you to wonderful places real or make believe. I have since learned that this is not the case for everyone. This is most definitely not the case for my 11 year old son. For him, reading is anything but wonderful and can be down right painful for both of us. He would rather stick needles in his eyes than read or even postpone reading and so would I. Once, he chose to pick up dog poop rather than read! Suffice it  to say, fulfilling Summer Reading/Reading Counts requirements are not happy times at our house.

But we want happy times at our house! What's a mother to do? Go running with him of course! We went for our maiden run last week by the Chattahoochee River to practice for his Cross Country Team evaluation. He ran 3 miles without stopping, no problem. He wasn't even breathing hard! It helps when you are 11 years old, 70 lbs with zero percent body fat. But more importantly, running took both of us to a new and wonderful happy, sweaty place of bliss. Will my son be able to make a living running? Will running help his reading? Will he ever run with me again? Will he pass 6th grade? The answers to these and other questions are unknown to me at the moment, but at least when we can't read another page of Where the Red Fern Grows, we can go for a run.