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When They Get It!

As parents, we strive hard to instill values in our children. We hope that they will someday get what we are trying to teach them. In today's society of instant gratification and *I*, it's not so easy. We are constantly battling the television, music, selfishness, etc. that is the norm. One of my favorite scriptures is:

 40"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' Matthew 25:40

When my children were younger, my family was more active in mission work. The larger our family became, the harder it became to have the *time* to serve others rather than ourselves. As a parent, we've had to be more creative, and teach our children, that it's not just about going out on a mission, but looking for opportunities to serve; in our home, in our neighborhood, in our church, on our streets. And I'll admit that our lives are so busy, and sometimes, other's won't ask me to help with this or that because of our current family situation; I've learned to say "no" when I need to. But, it is still important for us to have the chance to live outside of ourselves.

Sometimes I wonder if my kids notice; and then one of them does something like start a new ministry for our youth. And well, her heart is like mine; it's like a passion that burns inside of you and won't let go. It's my middle son noticing the homeless man on the street and asking for one of the bags that his sister had made up; and seeing this ministry in action. Or the same son running into the street to help another homeless person who has fallen out of his wheelchair into the street while others just stare or walk away. It's their willingness to stop and pray for someone in the middle of a restaurant because they looked like they needed someone to show them Christ.

Today was one of those days. For my youngest son, who is NOT a morning person and complains every single morning that school should not start before 10 am, it was a proud mama moment when he volunteered to run in a charity race along with his youngest sister and father to raise money for children with cancer. I honestly didn't think he'd make it. He did. He was up at 6 am and ready to go. When I asked him why he got up so well, he replied, "Because it was worth it to get up, Mom."

Last night, my niece brought in her loose change to give to those children because she wasn't able to participate in the run, but wanted to be included in the giving. So she gave all she had, much like the widow's mite.

Not long after the three left for their race, my oldest son called. He was at the park up the street. His fraternity was helping a charity event for children with food allergies and would I come? These busy young college students had gotten up at 6 am on a Saturday morning to help set up tables, chairs, tents, and bouncy houses for the families that were putting on the event. Then they stayed to help run the event, take pictures and then help with the tear down and clean up after. He had no idea when he volunteered that this was a group that could touch our family, too. You see, I have two children with severe food allergies, and this group had managed to raise over $35,000 to raise awareness for children with food allergies!

This evening, I can sit and write out my thoughts; no, my thanks. Thanks to my God, who continues to show me that my children do get it; that He is working in their lives. 

I get it.

Brainiac Conversations

You gotta love a kids and his brain. The Smart One calls me tonight.

Me: "Hello?"

Him: "Mom, my metatarsals hurt."

Me: "Hmm…how do your metacarpals feel?"

Him: "They're fine. It's just the metatarsals."

Me: "The Phlanges are ok?"

Him: "Yeah, they're fine."

Me: "Maybe you should try some warm, bubbly H2O."

Him: "Do you mean a hot bath?"

There's just no one like our Smart One, that's for sure!

About that Reality TV Show

I debated whether I should blog about this or not. I really did. The best I could do was wait until today, because it was just too…movie like…not to blog about!

So yesterday B-boo had to have oral surgery. Not fun. The one and only time I had oral surgery was to have my wisdom teeth pulled. All four at once. I had just met hubby when I had it done.

I told B-boo, "Daddy stuck with me through that and I knew he'd stay with me through anything!"

I was so sick. Miserable, for a week! I vaguely remember lying on the floor on a bean bag and him walking in to hand me a stuffed animal before I conked out again. I wasn't just swollen sick, but I got physically sick as well. It was a total week of semi-consciousness!

Now it was B-boo's turn. Not for wisdom teeth, but because some of my children are blessed to have baby teeth that refuse to fall out. This makes it hard for the permanent teeth to come in. The Smart One had to have two teeth pulled last week because of this problem. Oy…laughing gas on the poor boy wasn't so funny after we started to drive home. At any rate, because the teeth can't move forward, they move backward into the jaw bone instead. This means that the surgeon has to go find them and help them come out. Ouch!

We She did fine during surgery and even managed to walk out to the van when I pulled up to the door. I didn't realize how out of it she really was until I started to drive home. I guess the first clue should have been the fact that she needed help buckling her seat belt. As I pulled out around the corner, she slid my way. I gently put my arm out and pushed her back into her seat. Then I called Dad to let him know we'd made it through and were on our way home. He was supposed to be heading out of town, but was still home. And a good thing, too!

As I went around the next corner, she came flying towards me once again. This time I was prepared and held my arm against her so she'd stay in her seat. Until the next corner, when she slid the other way, into the window. I immediately thought of "Father of the Bride Two" when Steve Martin takes the sleeping pill and his face slams into the window. Ok, her face didn't slam into the window, but she certainly went sliding into the window. I did a quick double check to make sure the doors were locked and drove slowly all the way home.

And then I called hubby. "You're still home right, cause I'm thinking I won't be able to get her upstairs." I glance at her as I am speaking to hubby and notice her left hand has flopped down in her unconsciousness. "Yeah, I'm definitely not going to be able to get her into the house."

As always, nothing happens in our house without it being a family event. That happens when you have large families. Grandma had come over to help get Chicken Noodle Butt to school and watch the Drama Queen because we didn't expect hubby to be home. In addition, we had two of the boy cousins over because the third one had an appointment.

So I drive up to hubby waiting in the driveway, cause he's just good like that. I tell him to be careful opening the door because I don't want her to fall out of the van. He quickly sees what I am talking about and realizes he's going to have to carry her up the stairs.  I run ahead to clear a path, kind of like in the Princess Bride when the Andre the Giant clears the path before storming the castle. The cousins want to see what is going on, of course, and so wont' get off the stairs and out of the way…until my charming, sweet voice convinces them to do otherwise. I'm just nice like that.

I won't go into details of the rest of the day, let's just leave it at a mouth full of stitches and nausea don't go well together. Needless to say, she gets to stay home from school for an extra day. If she ever regains consciousness, I might even be enticed to watch a Reality TV Show movie with her!

Storms

I love a good storm. I love it when the sky is dark and the heavens pour out. I love the thunder and lightening that comes with it! I love the SMELL of the rain; the anticipation of a good storm, and the dew that's left after wards. To me, there is nothing better than a good rain storm in the fall. That's the best.

In the midst of a storm, I love to cuddle up with a good book and hot coco and sit by an open window, listening to the downpour. Or, cuddle up with a child and read a book, and talk about the rain.

Today, we've started another type of storm. As I sat with my niece in a waiting room, coloring, she explained her page to me. It was of a mermaid. Simple. But this mermaid was sitting under a dark sky of dark clouds. I asked her why the dark clouds, and she said it was because Jesus was crying. I told her that I loved a good storm, it made me feel good.

As the day wore on, we cuddled, we talked, we shared. She asked me at one point why did I have tears. I explained to her that it makes me sad when she is sad. She hugged me and we went on.

She's going to be gone for a while, and I will miss her. She's allowed one phone call each night. She mentioned to someone earlier that she'd like to call her momma. I'll admit I struggle with that, but at the same time, I'm ok with it. A bit ago the phone rang; it was her. She needed me. She missed me. She wants to know when can she come home. To me. And the storm started.

And then the phone rang again. Only this time, it was her momma, asking if I had received the call…because she hadn't. And her storm started. It's not about me, is it?

Earlier today, I was so angry, I wanted to scream. It's not fair, I wanted to cry out. Why? I asked. Why?

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord.

And He knows the plans He has for the rest of them. And if it takes a storm, then it takes a storm.

So, Bring the Rain, Lord, Bring the Rain.

"Bring me joy, bring me peace


Bring the chance to be free

Bring me anything that brings

You glory

And I know there'll be days

When this life brings me pain


But if that's what it takes to praise You

Jesus, bring the rain"

The Princess

That would be my niece, the princess. The first time she came to live with us, she was 14 months old. I'm sure we looked quite the family, all of us dark haired wonders…and in the middle, there was this blond-haired green-eyed beauty. She lived with us for over a year while her momma tried to pull her life back together, and after 14 months, she went home to live with her momma and three month old baby brother. And our lives felt as if they'd been ripped apart. And we mourned the loss of our little blond baby.

We'd see her on holidays and birthdays and watch her grow older. We knew she had issues, but we also knew that there was nothing we could do about it.

Six months ago, the princess came back to live with us, this time, bringing along her now five year old brother. And so it is.

I won't lie and say that life hasn't dealt her some pretty hard blows. I also won't lie and say it is easy; it's even harder this time around. There are many days when I just want to give up because frankly, it's just too hard. But I remind myself (or others remind me) that our God is a big God and He knows what He is doing. And so we try harder.

The Princess has ADHD, Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD), and much more. She's not able to trust; not able to let it go and let herself love. She struggles in school, at home, everywhere. She has a strong need to be in control and has a hard time making friends. She has an even stronger need to be accepted, to be wanted, to be loved. And it's hard.

I imagine that as hard as it is for the rest of us, it's even harder for her. In a world that has completely let her down, she has to survive.

Sometimes, my selfishness, my humanness, gets in the way of me. I wonder if I'm really making a difference in her life. It *seems* that she pushes me away more than she asks me to never leave her. And I beg Him to just give me a little sign that I"m doing the right thing; that perhaps she is healing.

Several weeks ago, I gave her a princess bracelet. She loves princesses and wants to be one. What little girl wouldn't? Especially one who has never felt like a princess before. So when I saw the bracelet, I thought of her and how much she'd like it. I presented it to her and told her all about how she was my princess and that pretty heart charm was to show her how much I love her. She accepted the gift. It quickly broke and was forgotten. On our way home, my mom handed it to me. It didn't seem like much, but to me, it signified how easily the Princess will move on, not really attaching to anything. I understand it's part of the RAD, but when I'm worn down, it still hurts. Selfish, I know. I brought the bracelet home and put the heart charm into my jewelry box.

Sunday, her momma gave her a pretty pink bracelet with a pretty pink heart charm. She wore it home and treasures it. She is thrilled to finally have her momma make her feel like a princess. I get that. I am happy for her. On Wednesday, we got to school and she realized she'd forgotten to put her bracelet on. She lost it. I felt like the meanest mom/aunt that morning because as much as I told her I understood, I have no idea what it is like to go through what she has. And I felt even worse, because that afternoon, when she got home and asked me to help her put the bracelet on, my heart hurt…because she was so excited for this gift from the one who has so often rejected her and yet, she rejected me. And try as I might to tell myself to grow up, I wondered if I was really helping her at all.

Until last night. Because last night, she came downstairs with something in her hand. It was a little silver heart with a pink stone in it. She said she was carrying it around, because it was from her other momma; me. And she didn't have anything to put the heart on…and could I please put it on her bracelet with the heart from her other momma. And so we did. And she was so happy, because now she had both of her momma's hearts to wear all the time.

And I learned something from my princess, the little girl who has such a hard time showing, and receiving, love. I learned that a little girl who so easily tosses things aside, kept that special heart, and held on to it, and never said a word about it. I learned that our God cares enough about the both of us; enough to let her know how much she is loved and enough to show me that He is at work, even when I can't see it.