Tag Archive for: family

Happy Mother’s Day!-What I’ve learned.

I have the world’s best parents and the world’s best parents-in-law. You may think you do, but I would challenge you to arm wrestle competition to own the title. And since you’re there at your computer and I’m here at mine-let’s just call it a draw, shall we?

 


Anywho-it’s obviously Mother’s Day and I want to praise the woman the raised me (Mom) and the one that raised the man that I’m deeply, passionately in love with (Connie-Mom).

I would like to share a few things that these ladies did well in regards to being a Mom. And, I hope to encourage all of you that may be-even right this moment-frazzled, worn out, frustrated and re-thinking that whole “mom” thing.

 


The biggest thing that I learned from my mom was:
1. Consistency is paramount in regards to both love and discipline. I knew that if I crossed the line, I would be punished for it-often by writing inches out of the dictionary or the Bible. I do give a tip of the cap to my mother for “allowing” me to have such an expansive vocabulary. I also knew that when my jacked-up, gymnastics-back was keeping me awake at night, mom would come into my room and rub my back until I fell asleep.

 


2. Choosing to make life fun is an intentional decision-it doesn’t just happen. And “fun” doesn’t have to be expensive-fun comes by catching lightening bugs, making pizzas, playing board games and taking bike rides. As a family, we never went on a cruise, visited exotic places or went on ski vacations. Those things aren’t bad to do-they just weren’t an option when I was growing up. Instead, my best memories consist of sitting around the fireplace, drinking Five Alive, eating popcorn and playing Sorry.

 


3. God comes before everything-even before me. My mother has had a consistent quiet time ever since I can remember. I knew not to interrupt her and I knew it was in my best interest if she spent time with God before conversing with humans.

 


4. Dad and Mom presented a unified front, one that us kids knew we couldn’t break apart.
Once a decision was made, I never thought to try to continue to get my way. Well, maybe “never” is a strong word. How about, “most of the time”. At any rate, I knew it was futile. Those parents of mine were resolute.

I love you so much, Mom. Thank you for being consistent, fun, Godly and resolute. I hope I can be half the woman you are, someday.

 

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Busted. Arrested for my sins.

Dear Sheriff-
My calendar is full-full of really good things-but full, nonetheless. Between Bible Study, Crossfit, t.v. appearances, guest posting, meeting with the tax accountants, my mother coming into town (YEAH!), painting windowsills, being trained as a real estate agent….my days are full and a tad overwhelming at times.

I flop into bed each night–sore from Crossfit, tired from the day and my brain swirling about tomorrow. The alarm sounds the next morning at 5:00am and life begins again.

And this morning, YOU–”Sheriff God”–busted me.

 


You reminded me of this: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”-Philippians 4:6

Had I even prayed about my day-the tiny details that seem silly to bring to You but seem insurmountable to me?

Nope. Busted.

 


Had I asked You for help while I made out my list, fretted over it and then complained about it to Biceps?

Nope. Busted.

Did I immediately flip open Your Word to read in James 1:3 & 5, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds. If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.”

Nope. Busted again.

 


Thank You, God for busting me.

However, You were gentle and kind to me and released me from the prison I had made. Commentaries by me.

“I waited patiently (sort of) for the Lord, he turned to me and heard my cry (flat out guttural scream). He lifted me out of the slimy pit (favorite part), out of the mud and mire, he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.” Psalm 40:1-3.

Well played Sheriff God. Well played.

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A letter from a childless wife.

We weren’t waiting to have children because of an insatiable desire to pursue our careers or because we don’t like kids–as we’ve been accused of. I’ve heard the conversations behind our backs (and sometimes to our faces) surmising that we must be selfish and too rigid. I’ve heard the philosophy that we should have children in order to become “better people”.

I’ve also been given the insightful information that childbearing is not only what makes me a “real woman”, but more importantly, that it’s my Godly duty. And, my favorite is the “concerned” person who warned me that having children after 35 greatly increases the chances of the child being mentally or physically handicapped. As if this would be a horrible consequence to us waiting.

The simple fact is–we wanted to wait until we couldn’t wait any more. This was how we approached our marriage. And since this would be another life long decision–not just something cute to hold for a moment–we waited. We thought we might be ready by our fourth or fifth year into marriage. But soon, our sixth, seventh and then tenth anniversary passed us by and we were still childless. And we were fine with it.

However, about the eleventh year, I observed that we started noticing kids. It began in small ways. One of us would comment on how tiny baby shoes were-something that never mattered before. Or, my husband would point out the cute fuzzy hair on our nephew. The emotions began to creep in and the desire was planted.

We wanted and we were ready to have our family.

But, along with our desire came our hesitation. We loved our spontaneous weekend get-aways without worrying about a sitter. We loved biking through the city with no real plan or a diaper bag. As a compromise to a specific plan, we went without charting or taking temperatures, and decided to try–without trying. Every month that rolled around was a game of roulette. And we lost every time.

I took solace as I watched frazzled mothers yelling at their children at church, in the mall, and at the gas station. I skipped on by, coffee in hand, with no spit-up on my shirt and no poop smell in my car. The war stories from parents were abundant and gladly told over and over. They wore them on their sleeves like badges of honor. The same parents–chastising me for being childless–were the ones with marriages in a state of arrested development, the ones where the children were controlling everything and with absolute, total chaos in their lives.

Even so, I wanted a baby with my husband. I wanted to see a boy that looked like him, that acted like him, that admired his father. I wanted a little girl that would paint her nails, that would bake cookies with me, that would become my best friend–like I am with my mother.

And when this realization hit that I sincerely wanted a baby, the scarring in my life began. The awkward questions that I used to let roll off my back, no longer rolled. They stuck. And they hurt.

“Well, what’s wrong? Don’t you want to have kids?”. Without knowing what is wrong–if there is anything really wrong–my answer is simply, “God hasn’t blessed us with a baby–yet.”

I watch as they shift their child from one hip to the other, looking me over, trying to figure out if it’s my lack of faith, lack of body fat or something somewhere in between that’s causing me to not become pregnant, and I beg my tears to recede to their proper holding cell. Because, after all–I’m broken and I need to be fixed. By them.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have waited so long,” they say. This stings more than all the others, because it’s the one that percolates in the back of my mind. “You can always adopt,” is their next statement.

I thank them for their helpful comments and walk away, knowing I’m going home to a house that’s empty and void of onesies, toys and stuffed animals. My house is clean and everything is just where I left it. And, if I want to have a cup of coffee on the back porch while it’s raining, I can. But the rain only amplifies what I already know.

I feel broken and the questions continue to pound away at my resolve to be positive and to be at peace. Those questions mutilate me. My tears are at the ready, my emotions are at the breaking point. And this is where I am today.

I am writing this to all women that have felt this pain. And for the ones that seem to get pregnant “if their husband’s just look at them”, please, understand why I can only offer you my half smile. I am so thrilled for you, truthfully. But, it’s so hard to muster up joy for your new season when the joy seems to be gone in my season–and when I’m left in this holding pattern.

I know that God has a plan for me–I am not distraught–I have hope. I am just wounded and hurting. The questions, the helpful suggestions and opinions you have of me bruise me more than you know.

Signed-
A Childless Wife

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Did you know? Facts about the writer.

Dear Readers:

The internet is a scary place. If you don’t believe me, just use google earth and check out your home-from a satellite in space. That said, I try to reveal the inner me, without revealing too much in order to avoid the freaks and (bad) weirdos.

I wouldn’t want photos like this to get into the wrong hands.

 


Wait. Oops.

Anywho-due to my partial privacy, I wonder if there is a bit of disconnect between you and I. I’ve read blogs before and the although the content was great, the writer had no voice and I never ended up connecting with them.

So, here goes nothing. Time to connect, ladies and gentlemen, via weird facts about yours truly.

 


Did you know Biceps forced me to take this picture with Rupert at Hello Deli in New York (Dave Letterman Show)? I was so embarrassed.

 


Did you know that I met this man (Bicep’s father) for the first time, while he was in the shower? The bathroom seems to be the hub in that household, and I was invited to shake his hand over the top of the very non-revealing shower curtain.

It was weird.

 


Did you know that I was born in Germany?

 


Did you know that I basically look just like my mom (on the left)?

 


Did you know that I have a thing for robots and for my 30th Birthday had a “Robot Party”?

 


Did you know that we had a house that exploded?

 


Did you know Biceps and I were married  here at the Daniel Boone Chapel in Defiance, Mo and that Dad called him “Kyle” during the ceremony?

That’s enough Rebelation (Rebekah + revelation) for now. I hope this wasn’t too much, but just enough….

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