No Need For Gloves

The other day while waiting at a stoplight, I reached back and gently placed my hand around the corner of my baby’s car seat. Without being able to see his face, and only toes in frame, I felt his little soft fingers begin gripping onto mine. No words, no noises, just silence, but so much said as our hands connected. As he clutched, I slowly outlined his fingers, rubbing over his nail beds and knuckles, his hands so soft, so perfect, not one blemish.

As I held hands with my 13-month old, I thought about these tiny digits and all they would accomplish in this life. The imperfections will soon be gone. These little hands experiencing splinters, and scrapes. Pained by the unfortunate door slamming, leaving a hard to reach blood blister. Hangnails becoming red and irritated. Calluses formed from learning to use a baseball bat, and of course dirt and grime, along with other unpleasant detritus left beneath the nail’s surface. All evidence of life’s unpredicted journeys.  

In this moment, although as a mother it’s hard to admit, but these little hands are not perfect, he is not perfect. It is my job to teach, to forgive, to model, to love.  I realize these hands will take when they should give, push instead of hug, point in judgment rather than fold in prayer. . Our hands display the matters of our heart, which is always a work in progress.

That day I prayed for these little hands. I prayed these hands be gentle, that they learn to share. That the fingers pinched by doors, are because of holding one open for a sweet elderly lady. That the callused covered palms be from working to help those in need and the dirt embedded fingernails a result from playing with friends and loving creation. I pray he have compassion for people being made visible through his caring touch. That wrinkles formed are not from a strong grip to money but rather holding firm to those he loves.

Our hands tell a story, sometimes a tale we feel not worth repeating. Through life’s many lessons our hands grow weary. Amidst the many physical changes one can pursue to obtain youth, hands will tell it all. Wrinkles and swollen knuckles can only be hidden by gloves. But why hide? Don’t we want the world to know our accomplishments, our setbacks? Don’t we want to share our troubles and how through God’s grace we overcome? Without proof, our story lacks validity. Everyone’s story is worth repeating, everyone has a wrinkle or two, a scar on their palm, a crooked finger. So take off your gloves and tell your story, what evidence do your hands show?

Dingy White Pits

Ladies, this one’s for you. Let’s be honest, you know what I’m talking about when I refer to that one white tank top, that one you wear under everything, the one that has the dingy white pits, no matter how many times you wash it? And if you don’t know what I’m talking about then this blog entry is not for you!

For those of you that can relate, you know the limitations to wearing this top, guarding onlookers to see it, as you perfectly pair it with your favorite blouse, but never a shirt that would allow it to be seen. Let’s just admit it, you’ve even pulled it out once or twice of the dirty clothes because the outfit just doesn’t feel right without it. We all have one.

Well at least I like to think we do, it makes me feel better. I never imagined some of my favorite pieces of clothing, the hardest ones to surrender, being the ones I wouldn’t let anyone see. As I strive to appear put together, relaxed, well groomed, and up-to-date in my hair and clothing, I often fail to worry about the things people can’t see, with intentions of “fixing” it later. Oh how this so describes my life!

When Jeff and I were first married, I remember having a surprise visitor swing by the house to drop something off. This was not a person I knew well but was a friend of Jeff’s family. As this person entered our home, at first glance, I felt proud, as she caught me in a moment of good “wifehood”, stirring our dinner over the stove. As she began getting a bit too comfortable during her unexpected stay, my heart began to pound. I was envisioning the piles, upon piles, of dirty laundry in our bedroom, along with our unmade bed, and loaded down counter tops. That’s just to mention the surface, hoping she didn’t start to stare closely at the un-vacuumed and un-mopped floors, dust lined baseboards, and toothpaste marked bathroom sinks. Dreading the question, I appeared relaxed, until at once, as if my greatest nightmare came true; she asked to see what we had done with the place.

Before I could even intercede, making up some lame excuse to avoid the tour, she was in our bedroom! It was obvious when her eyes saw the room in utter disarray, meeting a totally different expectation to the meaning “done with the place.” Shortly after she left, I remember balling my eyes out; uncomfortable in my own skin, ashamed that anyone would have ever seen that side of our lives, the side we tried, so carefully, to cover up. I mean everyone thought we totally had it together right? A brand new married couple, living on their own for the first time, and overcoming great daily hurdles of managing a physical disability at the center of it all! It was easy, why wasn’t my bed made, the laundry done, the sinks rinsed out?

Because that’s just not how life goes for everyone, especially not for me! And now after ten years of marriage, I still struggle to allow people into the truth. It’s something I work on, but honestly, it’s hard. Covering up those dingy white pits stains in my life, continuing to wear them, with the rare occasion of having them seen, is far from comfort. We often think, that if anyone were to ever see that favorite white tank of ours they would think differently of us, when in reality, they probably wouldn’t even notice!

As a new mom, I have to remember I am not alone. Part of allowing some of the “ugly” to show, is just admitting the truth to friends, and much to my surprise finding out I am in good company. I am so thankful for my friends for loving me and helping me see beneath the beautiful, and most importantly for teaching me to show off my dingy white pits. One day, we will need to be proud of these tanks and go out to lunch wearing nothing over top, confidently allowing all to see! What a lunch date that would be…  

A "NEW" Day!

As I rush through my morning routines, preparing for a week away at camp with a group of elementary students, I can’t help but stop for a few minutes and write a quick entry about this “new” day!

I am so thankful that for the past eleven months I have no longer been waking up next to my best friend, but now the dad of our sweet baby boy.  Twelve years ago, I remember spending time with Jeff, shortly after we began dating. We were talking about whether or not we wanted to have kids. I shared with him my longing to be a mother some day. Not expecting it, his response was quite different. Abruptly and without explanation, he mentioned his desire to live solely with his wife, a life without kids.

At first glance, I was concerned, as this just plainly would not work out if that were the case. Investing more into the conversation, I dug a bit deeper, and quickly realized this shocking statement was coming from a place of fear and doubt. Jeff is not really one to doubt opportunities life puts in front of him. He usually faces them with a decisive “yes” or “no”. He knows his limits, and knows them well. Coming from someone who has faced a lot of setbacks, he is not one to spend much time dwelling on what he “can’t” do.

During this conversation about future parenthood, I think Jeff could not help but see the things he “couldn’t do”, but not in a pity-party kind of way, more from a concern of holding a family and child back. Well, fast forward. We are about to seal up our first year of being new parents, and Jeff has been nothing but amazing. Today we celebrate a “new” day. This day is no longer just about treating our own dads to lunch but rather a day to celebrate all God has blessed Jeff with in his many new experiences of being a dad.  

This father role brings a fresh look on life. There will be times where we have to be more creative than others in some of the musts-do’s that we as a family just can’t accomplish, but that will come in due time. Today, we celebrate fully what God has given us and today I celebrate this man that my boy calls dad.

Jeff: You are an amazing person. Thank you for setting an example for all to see, that this world is not about us. Thank you for teaching me to laugh in moments we want to cry. Thank you for humbling yourself to allow Arie the opportunity to call you dad, and to work hard to be the best father to that little boy he could ever ask for. Thank you for loving me and caring for the two of us each day, for working endless days and nights so we live comfortably and give generously to our church, friends, and family. Thank you for teaching Arie that life isn’t just about playing baseball, or swimming, or going on hikes, but more importantly seeking God’s path. Without you I would be lost, I would be selfish (okay still working on that one), I would be less patient (yep, that one too), I would be more than likely living a life for myself. But God placed you in my arms to live and learn about a unique life of servant hood. I love our early mornings while others are still sleeping, when we are up and spending time getting ready together. I love that we “need” each other in ways that not all people do. Without me I realize physically you would be stuck, but without you spiritually and emotionally I would be lost. Thank you best friend, husband, and DAD for being obedient, and teaching others how to love even through lives many surprises. It is on this “New” Day we celebrate you! I love you to the moon and back.

Captain Sleepy Head

For a little boy who wears pajamas with the tagline “Captain Sleepy Head” he sure lives up to “Captain Sleep Next to Mommy’s Head” better. I guess this would take up too much room on his tiny 9-month nightshirt.

As advice poured in from well-seasoned parents previous to Arie’s arrival, the phrase: “whatever you do, don’t let him sleep with you” trumped ALL counsel. We never thought it would be an issue in our family, as our little man made his way into his crib at eight weeks old, sleeping twelve hours each night without interruption. The truth seemed too good. After a rough season of colds, flu, and upper respiratory issues, resulting in many nights next to us in our bed, this “too good to be true” routine was no longer.

With an over priced video monitor, that was just shy of being able to administer nighttime medications, as new parents we just couldn’t rest without him by our side.  At the time, we did not have fear of the future; picturing our eighteen-year old son still in bed with us, but nearly four months later, we’ve grown concerned.

It’s like our “dirty little secret”. Advice ringing heavily in our ears, not wanting to admit to the fact that even after receiving warning about this exact situation, we have somehow found ourselves deeply entrenched in this accidental turn.

As I heard Captain Sleepy Head awake from his crib in the middle of the night, calling to come into the much more comfortable, king-sized arrangement, I’m not going to lie, my heart was at ease. There’s something so fulfilling about wrapping my arms around this luscious little bundle, and pulling him towards my chest as we complete our night’s sleep. After so many years of waiting for these moments, why wouldn’t we want this? I get it; it’s a behavior, a conditioned one that only we have created. But sometimes behaviors are well worth the consequences that are tied to modification. I doubt when Arie is eighteen he will continue to reside in our bed, that would just be weird, and I bet he would think so too. But for now, there is just nothing weird about it; it’s just too natural and fulfilling. So here’s to another night “Captain Sleep Next to Mommy’s Head”!   

No Need For A Map

As humans we desire to know answers that depict our future, much like a road map, providing direction through life’s winding paths. But in some instances we are not handed life’s map, but rather a compass. This is a story about two friends, two journeys, one perfect plan.

Shortly after Jeff and I moved to California I was introduced to what felt like my twin, my best friend, Joni. Initially introduced because of our interest in running, our friendship was built on many hikes, runs, and outdoor-adventures. Little did we know, there was something much greater in store for our friendship.

With our common desire to one day become mommies, we would spend hours, dreaming of mommy-hood and planning our futures together, everything down to our “dual” baby shower. We had it all mapped out.

As time marched on, so did our conversations, drifting from the ever so hopeful topic. Pretty soon we stopped planning, it was getting depressing. It was at this point in the strenuous trek Jeff and I decided to pursue adoption. Both our families continued in our individual journeys to parenthood.

The day finally came, I remember getting “the” call from Joni, announcing their pregnancy. I was so happy for them. I could not stop shopping. Auntie Sarah was out of control. Amidst my celebration, I grew concerned with our own process. Would this ever happen to us? Would we still be mommies together? Jeff and I had started our adoption process but there was no way we would ever catch up, this could be a three-year voyage.

Plans continued to go against expectation. Joni and her husband’s pregnancy became a devastating downward spiral. After several weeks of enjoying the new idea of becoming parents, Joni’s pregnancy rapidly shifted into one of worry, stress, and grief. The journey went from the elated emotions of finding out they were expecting twins, to the loss of one baby within the first trimester. This grief continued, in following appointments finding out about their little girl having Down Syndrome, heart difficulties, and a struggle to grow in the womb. The road for them felt less traveled as feelings of emptiness and sadness filled their minds as they were sent home at 21-weeks to “lay down, rest, and prepare for the worst.” I remember lying next to Joni that day; we just cried!

Time continued on, Joni laid low, followed the doctors orders, and the baby continued to truck along, not growing much but had a strong heart beat. This little warrior princess was proving to be a fighter. Mom too continued to fight, bedridden in the hospital for the month leading up to the baby’s birth at 32-weeks.

Life for Joni and her family started looking up, although storms were still in the forecast, God had a plan all along. After 120 days in the NICU, two heart surgeries, and two years later, sweet Canon Joy, had made her mark! A true miracle.

Shortly after her last heart surgery, Jeff and I completed our adoption home study. It was a month after Canon’s first birthday, our little Prince Arie was born and came home to be a part of our family. No waiting around for us! Now the two have play dates and will grow up side by side. We caught up!

Looking back, God knew His plan. Maybe not providing the road map with clear direction but keeping us strong in our faith, always pointing us to hope, allowing us a firm grip on His compass. Through the stress we could rest assure He was in control, we just had to wait patiently to see the outcome. The evidence is in our two blessings, two journeys, one perfect plan!   

Arie's Highlight Video

Thanks to a my wonderful friend Dayna for making this beautiful video of our sweet baby boy from the time he came home to the moment he was forever ours! CLICK HERE to watch, enjoy.

Different Stripes

When Arie first arrived into our lives, I remember handing him to anyone and everyone who entered our home. We were excited to share the sweet bundle of love, warmth, and cuddles. It is strange to think that everyone who visited within that first 24 hours, knew this new member of our family as well as we did. Upon his arrival, I recognized that by not carrying him before birth, a progression of bonding needed to begin immediately. 

As days and weeks passed, I began reacting a bit differently to “sharing” the new arrival like I did in those first several hours. I found myself mirroring some behaviors that of a Zebra. Yes, I said Zebra. You see Zebra foals will follow literally anything that they see moving. A mare’s response and defense to this reaction, is to hover over their young, by only allowing them to see their stripes. This type of imprinting allows the foal to learn the unique striping pattern, scent, and vocalization of their mother’s compared to the other members in the herd.

With many people coming and going, and a need for new caretakers as I had to head back to work, I often felt at times this child’s surroundings were much like that of a herd. It’s amazing how quickly my new motherly instincts surfaced, and I began “hovering” and trying my best to surround him with the sounds I wanted him to recognize unique to me. I became protective and defensive of any “bonded-like” look he would give someone else in the room, causing a reflex type reaction to quickly remove him from their site, once again, only to display my “stripes”.

The voices he was hearing were foreign to the one’s he had bonded with before entering this world. I was afraid he would react to life, like that of a baby Zebra, bonding and following any voice that would last for any length of time. I was his momma and he had to learn that.

Well much to my surprise, it did not take long before I would enter the room, begin talking, and his little noggin would turn my direction, clearly responding to my voice. I began trusting more of our unique connection, becoming more confident that he saw me as his mother. I found myself searching for others to notice, wanting them to recognize his love and acceptance for me.

Obnoxious, selfish, insecure, call this what you would like. I see this as nothing but normal feelings, reactions, and emotions in response to something so new, so scary, but yet so satisfying. The love Jeff and I feel for this little boy cannot be described. We have never felt a love like this. We are more than excited to announce that this love will continue to grow and grow, into something much more over the course of our lives, as we will be finalizing Arie’s adoption, this coming Monday, January 27^th, 2014. Arie’s “Forever” Day, when God will permanently gift us with this little Zebra, is finally here.

This is really beginning to feel like “forever”…