The Dark Days

I've always seen my future self as a mildly accomplished writer.  In my daydreams I've used my experiences, thoughts and heart-reflections to pen chapters that would make people feel seen, understood and encouraged.  Hell maybe even my words would be used to break down the walls around hearts that were long ago sworn as fortresses of protection, no matter what the cost.  I've been there, I get it.

So what would my writings mean if they didn't include my darkest days?

Fake.  That book would be fake.

So here it is.  The dark days.  The ones that few people like to admit.  The ones that make you feel like shaking your fierce fists at heaven is an impulse you can't control.  The days that happen to all of us at some point in life, whether we like to admit it or not.

So I'll write - and not leave a chapter out of my "someday" book.

It's highly probable that my two sons ages 7 and 3 have a rare genetic disease that is degenerative.

And I, somehow and in some way, passed it onto them through a genetic mutation in their X chromosome.  Go me.

And my daughter as well.  She would be a carrier - and her kids will have a 50% chance of having it.

Oh and my boys will never be able to have their own children.   Friggen sweet.

And they **might** live until they're 60, others don't see the flip side of childhood, but the progression will vary.  Let's wait and see, huh?

Facts:  So there's insulation that surrounds all of our nerves (myelin) and that acts as a highway of sorts for messages sent to and received from the brain - yeah that insulation doesn't get formed (nor can it be produced) in people who have this disease.  Tragically, as the impulse (message) tries to make its way across the axon (highway), it leaks out where there is no myelin.  This results in little, if any, impulse making it to the next neuron in the chain.  Over time the brain simply stops trying, bit by bit.  

Hence - the rare, genetic & degenerative disease... that is (A) probably what they have, (B) something we get to wait a whopping 8 weeks to get confirmed.  

1 in 200,000 people.

So with my 2 boys does that mean 2 in 400,000?  So when I look at them playing in my living room I can picture almost HALF A MILLION other kids who do NOT have this disease playing around them?  Pretty much those are the numbers.

You might be thinking "Ummmm she sounds angry".

I told you - I'm in the dark days.

And do you want to know what I believe to be true in the core of my being about these days?
I AM OK TO BE HERE.   This brokenness is warranted.  This grief is a normal response.  These feelings are justified.  We will research remedies and alternative treatments, I will find my smile again and see the light and beauty in all of this... but not today.  And not tomorrow.

If you feel like telling me that it's all going to be okay and I need to see beyond these emotions, I will tell you that while I appreciate your desire to see me heal, this part of the journey is completely necessary.  And I spent way too many years not feeling the things that I had a right to feel, so I will let this one flow - if ya don't mind.

I do believe cognitively that God has a plan, and that I'm loved, and that there will be great purpose in this.  I do however believe in my heart that beauty and freedom can come from being vulnerable and unashamedly messy with my Maker.  The wrestling (defined:  the sport or activity of grappling with an opponent and trying to throw or hold them down on the ground) - is a crucial part of this fork in the road that I NEVER saw coming.  

And I believe that these truths of being LOVED greatly, accepted fully, MAD as hell, confused beyond measure and utterly crushed in my spirit can ALL happen simultaneously.  He can handle it, I'm sure; and He welcomes my honesty, I'm sure.  

He's my Jesus.  He's understanding, patient and well-versed with my limitations.  He moves me when I need to be moved.  He can take my anger and confusion.  He wants freedom for me in my innermost parts.  He knows what he is doing even when I tell him he can't possibly have control.  He can handle me, I'm not too much for him.  He aches when I ache, he bottles my tears, he mourns over the mess of this world we have chosen through our toils and pleasure seeking hearts.  

He is safe, he is available, he is meek he is my friend, he is enough, he is beside me, he will never push, pull or bribe me.  He doesn't need me to perform or be something for him.  He doesn't need perfection.  He doesn't require that I move at a certain pace or take steps with a smile on my face.  

He takes me as I am, I am not too much for him.  He takes me as I am, unashamed, with  his hand outstretched if I should desire to place my palm in his.

My Jesus he walks beside me, he sits when I need to sit, he calls me forth when it's time for me to rise up and out of my pain.  He is enough for me in these dark days, and I am not too much for him.

herding cattle

Parenting can feel like refereeing too often.  Or policing.

Don't do this.  Do that.  Now.  Faster.  Hurry.  Be nice.  Say please.  Share.  Eat your food.  Go potty.  Do your homework.  Pick up your things.  Behave.  Use your words.  Don't wine whine.
You get the drift.

Many hours of my mothering journey have been spent on correcting behavior with the subconscious belief that these rules or habits will bring peace and order.  I don't believe that they do.  I know one thing that they bring me without a doubt:  exhaustion.  A close second is a pretty steady stream of frustration.  And from my kids' perspective (if I could formulate these thoughts in a way that they might understand), I'd be willing to bet that they feel managed.  Or perhaps herded... like cattle.

Each day the same.  Get up it's time to get ready.  Hurry and eat or you'll miss the bus.  Come on I already told you twice to get dressed.  No I said the heavy jacket it's super cold today.  You aren't listening.  If you don't stop moving I can't get your shoes on and the bus is almost here!  Fine you can just stay home.  No wait you need to go I have things to do today.  HURRY!!
Okay goodbye I love you to pieces have a great day honey love you so much mua mua mua hugs and kisses I'll miss you like crazy!!!

Oh but the afternoon is fun too.  They come home kinda tired (okay fine... exhausted depleted little shells of humans). "I want a snack I'm so hungry.  I'm grouchy and need some alone time.  Where is the ipad?"
"You just got home you don't need to go straight to the ipad.  How was your day?"
(insert wailing)
At this point it's a 50/50 between these:  "If you're going to act like that you can go sit on your bed and come out when you're calm"  //  "Fine!!  Take the ipad geez louise!!"
On goes the evening:  Food / "rest time" AKA check out on an electronic device for far too long / maybe some play time that sounds like this "STOP IT THAT'S MIIIINE!!!! ... "OOOWWWW HE HIT ME!!!!" ... "GIVE IT BACK NOW!!!" / followed by homework if we are lucky / dinner / bath / book netflix / bed.  And wine.  Sometimes lots.
Sleep.  Repeat said morning routine.  Repeat afternoon and evening routine.
Monday.  Tuesday.  Wednesday.  Thursday.  Friday.

Saturdays (pajama day) is in fact pajama day for a reason.  Everyone is dead tired from a hellish week.  We literally have no capacity for each other.  Food.  Movies.  Lounging.  Naps.  Play time.  Dinner.  Bed.

Sundays are a bit better because we have some energy, get around for church, come home, eat, nap, play some games and remember what it was like to enjoy each other, then have dinner and send the kids to bed.  Reference above to see the beginning of Monday morning.

HUH!?!?!?!  What is happening?!  (Are we the only ones!?)

Our kids have all been home for a few weeks during the holiday break and I have been hit square between the eyes with a startling realization (are you sitting??).  My children love each other.  DEEPLY.  And they are really great for each other.  They teach each other.  Encourage each other.  See each other's heart and talents.  They have such a patient tenderness.  A joyous playful adventure full of creativity and unique expression.  And in the last few weeks I have witnessed some of the sweetest and kind-hearted gestures between the three of them.  I feel like I saw who they really are when they thrive.

So I am convinced.  Just as much as God chose us to parent and lead our three beautiful babies through the world - He also gave them each other.  And it's not an afterthought.  It's on purpose.  Each one unique yet having soul-needs that would be met in part by each other.  Reserved needs filled by siblings.  Imagine that!!

My heart is to cultivate an environment where my kids are living their best lives, they feel free to express themselves just as they are, they know their massive worth and value, they don't doubt for an instant the insane amount of love that we have for them, they have the space to ask difficult questions and explore the hard parts of life in a safe place, they see their interests and strengths unfold before them and actually have time and resources to grow in those talents, a place where their weaknesses are out in the open without shame or guilt, and a place where they do not have to look out for themselves because they KNOW everyone has each other's best interest at heart.

I don't know what it all looks like, but I'm sure our Papa will work all of that out.  I spent way too many years trying to hold onto control over my life that I just don't give a hoot anymore - it is what it is and it always works out, right?!  We are moving towards part-time homeschooling in the next few weeks, still saving up to buy some acreage, intentionally moving towards simple living in a tiny house, starting some ag. projects and growing food to sell to local restaurants, selling what we don't need and can't justify holding onto, and continuing our home business with doTERRA and introducing people to the freedom of essential oils.  We have what we need in the many fulfilling and diverse relationships around us and the basic physical necessities of life, this much I am sure of.  The rest of it can so easily become distracting, noisy clutter that can rob us of the simplest yet most profound parts of life.   People.  Love.  Freedom.  Time to just be, not do.

Control

Writing always freed me in ways nothing else could.  My fingers got to moving and before I knew it I'd stumbled across truths that had been festering within and aching for an exit strategy.  Today I'm realizing I'm nervous to see what flows forth as I've finally taken the time to sit and just be.

I don't even know what to say.  Is it possible that I'm in a season of life when processing emotion is just a luxury I don't often have?  When I search myself all I come up with is, "It's just a lot right now".

A tear falls and I say it again as I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly, the kind of breath that you hope will deter an impending breakdown.  It's just a lot right now.

A precious friend recently grabbed me by my shoulders and squared up right in front of my face and I knew whatever she was going to say would send me off with more turmoil than I had come to her house with.  But I knew it would be the good kind (can turmoil even be good? Hmmm... just go there with me!).  Turmoil means "a state of great disturbance, upheaval, confusion", and I suppose I sometimes ache unknowingly for someone to come in and greatly disturb or confuse my way of thinking.  Well she did, and she spoke truth to my heart in the innermost parts.  She said, "God trusted you with Levi (long pause).  God trusted you with Dani (long pause).  And God trusted you with Kai (long pause)".  And I whispered through my tears, "And all at the same time".  That was it.  Simple truth.  Yet for my weary soul it was that great disturbance that I needed.

I bravely shook my head nodding in agreement as the deep breaths ensued and I avoided the ugly cry scenario.  As I drove away I was quieted in my soul, but it wasn't until this morning that I deeply pondered this truth.  He trusts me.  With them.  All of them.  And in this season. 

A wise woman told me a few days later that Jesus is heaping grace upon me during this season, and my husband is covering me with grace hourly as I walk through a life of unending service to a 4-yr old with cerebral palsy, a fiery toddler and an infant.  She asked me why it was so hard to give myself the same grace.  What's with all of the guilt and the "shoulding" you are living in? 

Perhaps seeing things in disarray rattles me to the core because keeping everything controlled is who I have made myself.  The savior, the peacekeeper.  Take away my control and the true object of my worship is revealed.  

What am I without the things I can produce?  The clean house, the folded laundry, homemade laundry soap, 3 meals a day 6 days a week, fresh baked bread, outings to the park, crafty projects, homemade learning activities, and on and on... when it's all stripped away - who am I?   Where do I rest?  How do I find value?  Where is my identity?  In the work of my own hands.  The things I do to feel proud.  And accepted.  Not in my Jesus, or the price he paid for me. 

I am someone who continues the battle of performance and pleasing, even when no one around me requires it.  A life addicted to control because it's tangible proof that I did well today.   A mama who is experiencing what happens when life is impossible to clean up and the mess is staying for a good long while.  A mama coming to the end of herself, yet again. A mama who is beyond thankful that Jesus is sitting down beside her, there in the thick of the mess. 

I'm All-In!

A few times in the last 6 months my husband told me, “Babe I think you are here, but you’re not really here.  I feel like you’re not all-in, like your heart isn’t really present.  All you ever wanted to be was a mom but you just don’t seem happy”.  So I became reflective and thanked him for his honesty and asked if he’d watch the kids while I went to pray and journal through some of that stuff. 

Actually, I did not do anything of the sort.  In reality, I promptly replied with a laundry list of all the things I did from sun-up to sun-down and grumbled about the trials I engaged in every… single… day.  I would clear myself of any soul-searching and turn the tables on him immediately… guilting him and elevating myself, because that’s what mature, healthy adults do, right? 

But when my mind became quiet, against all of my efforts to maintain the noise, I knew he was right.  I was missing, and not in a small capacity.  I was going through the motions every day and fooling myself thinking no one would know I was empty. 

I began surveying my life.  For awhile I retreated far within myself and covered up with “poor me” blankets and drank “I deserve more” tea.  Months maybe.  This was no short siesta.  A wondrous pitty party hosted by… me, attended by… me, and entertained by… me.  But God was there too… quietly meeting me in my mess, as He always does. 

I got to process and say goodbye to the parts of my life that I’d been striving to hold onto… like cross-cultural work, refugees, dreams of overseas missions.  And the picture-perfect marriage relationship that I had in my head for so long that poisoned my ability to accept real life and love through it.  And to my dreams of parenting, which certainly didn’t include 3 children under the age of 4 and one with the challenging special needs of cerebral palsy.  I believe that God was very good to me in the time of self-reflection because I was able to pinpoint the root of my wars within and really wrestle through some tough things.

And what was on the other side?  What it looks like to live fully right where I am.  Where it’s messy, and hard, and ever so stretching.  But where passion, vision and joy are eager rewards from the One who fashioned our family together before the beginning of time.  The more I accept life as I know it, with the fits and runny noses and merry mess-making and diaper blow-outs, the more I am able to forget myself and give beyond my means.  Contentment is turning into thankfulness, and thankfulness has an uncanny way of producing joy.  Deep, deep joy. 

A New Dance - Reflections on 5 Years of Marriage

 

Marriage. 

There was a time (a long period of time) when that word made my stomach hurt.  Literally.  And then it would make me feel joy I never thought would end, and then in a flash it would end and I’d feel the complete opposite of joy again.  Over and over we’d go, dancing together and nailing each step perfectly yet unaware that we were equally participating in a painful and premeditated dance with each other.  A dance we’d learned the steps to decades ago and perfected together over 5 years of time.  A dance of brokenness and of really good intentions coming from handicapped hearts.  Hearts that didn't know a different way.  A hurtful dance that we know too well.  All too well. 

A dance that is winding down more and more each day, thank you Jesus. 

It’s being replaced by an imperfect set of steps reminding us constantly that we don’t know what we are doing but we surely are not going back to the deceivingly comfortable memorized patterns that decayed our covenant for years.  It’s a dance that often causes us to stumble and fall… but now we lend a hand to the one who is down instead of walking away feeling justified and secretly vindicated that the other is sitting in their mess.  A dance that feels wrong in so many ways, but when we search deep enough we see a love that is becoming more and more void of self.  A dance that is beautiful and freeing yet painful in the best ways possible. 

A Jesus kind of love. 

A love that costs a lot, but without strings attached.  A love without motives.  A love that accepts with warmth rather than with stipulations and unspoken expectations.  I am good at that.  A love that doesn’t keep track and doesn’t keep asking the same secret questions, “When is it MY turn?  Haven't I given enough?”.  An other-focused, I’m all in, meet-ya-where-you-are kind of love. 

Ya know, the love God has for us.  Everyday.    

I’m learning slowly that even though we have handicapped hearts with tendencies to revert to patterns we’ve practiced for most of our lives, there is a simple yet profound realization that the love of Jesus is enough.  It is. 

His love, recognized, pondered, received and penetrated into the hearts of people can love impossibly.  And not only that, JOY will flow forth.  Joy.  I’ve been missing a lot of joy. 

Serving one another instead of standing our ground produces joy.  Realizing the other’s deep soul needs instead of cataloging my own neediness produces joy.  Remaining silent and praying produces joy.  Wisdom and discernment to have hard conversations at the right time produces joy.  Waiting on God to fix the problems only He has control over produces joy.  Releasing each other to Jesus produces joy.  And a whole lot of freedom. 

And that God kind of love, that which is natural and other-focused and an outflow of our deep reliance and desperation for Him will penetrate one another’s souls.  Because it’s not our love for one another, it’s God loving us well through each other.