Once More - A Parents' Devotional

Hebrews 12:26-29

"At that time his voice shook the earth, but now he has promised, 'Once more I will shake not only the earth, but all the heavens.' The words 'once more' indicate the removing of what can be shaken - that is, created things - so that what cannot be shaken may remain. Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful and worship God acceptably, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire."

There is a certain amount of homicidal thoughts I've harbored over the past several weeks, given the state of the children God has blessed me with.  The rage felt towards the people who have harmed them - the rage towards a system that didn't and won't fight for them - the rage at their behaviors that persist after so many years of treatment - and the rage at myself for feeling like I'm failing them day after day. Yesterday, I hit my tipping point. All of the things that I don't share - the things that are too personal and not just mine to share - they came pouring out of me in a volcanic explosion of frustration. Trying to hold back the emotions after seeing the effects of repeated abuse that has been done to my children, both the ones we could rescue and the one that we cannot, has broken me.

To say that I have felt "shaken" is an understatement.

Sunday night, as I sat in our small support group for families like ours, I realized that I am not the only shaken one at this moment. Between the therapies, tests, surgeries, IEPs, calls from the school, questions about birth families, remembered traumas, anxiety, fear, and heart-breaking discouragement, I recognized that we are all quite shaken.

My goal was, ultimately, to pull back. To forget. To push away all reminders of the horrors currently being shown to me. And with each attempt to move away, I was reminded of a time long, long ago when God's people went about life on their own. The time when they didn't listen to the very clear words that were being spoken to them. The time when the earth shook with the intention of God behind it. Do you see that God will literally allow the earth to be shaken if it will get us to look to Him?

It seems cruel, I know. I've sat many times with my eyes tightly shut, arms crossed over my chest, and grumbling under my breath because God wasn't "being fair"... I demonstrated a very unholy tantrum to a very holy God because my world was being shaken and I didn't like it. (Insert the proverbial "Wah, Wah, Waaaah" here.) But in Hebrews, God says He will shake not only the earth, but the heavens as well, proof to me that what breaks my heart also breaks Gods - but even more, it is to show that God is willing to test what can be shaken and what cannot - to display to us what is supposed to fall away and what is eternal. In a sense, God is panning our lives for gold, sifting and shaking away the rubbish, the behaviors, the abuses, the rage - leaving behind what is eternal.

That is pure beauty and love.

But friends, remember that what is eternal may not appear to us right now. We may feel the shaking for days, weeks, years (I know, you choked on a sob, too, didn't you?) We pray it isn't years before the sifting shows results, but the chances are, when we are parenting children who have been hurt and damaged so severely, that years of shaking and settling (wash, rinse, repeat) is what we are in for. It's what we signed up for.

But in Hebrews it does say that in the end, we are receiving a kingdom that is flawless. Our kids will not bring their baggage with them into eternity. WE will not bring ours either. We are shaken now and refined in His consuming fire so that our peace and joy will be that much more miraculous. Our ability to worship a God who shakes us is a testament to how great we know He is. We couldn't allow such pain if we didn't trust our Shaker. And it is a our willingness to allow God to do His job that is our tribute to Him.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all."

I Am Fat....

Today, I am not going to talk about children or adoption or mental health. Today I’m going to talk about myself. (Ok, so maybe a little mental health then.) But I want to address an issue that led me to near-tears in Target just this morning. I say “near-tears” because I refused to cry a pathetic cry in front of my toddler. (Well, my toddler and the twenty-something Target employee who was gracious enough to look the other way while her 36-year-old customer had a near melt down… again, near.)

I have PCOS and I am fat. I am fat because I have PCOS (and because of Oreos… but mostly PCOS). Now, this isn’t something I just realized today – although shopping for curvy pants in a skinny-jean world certainly drove the message home loud and clear! My fatness has been a long time coming. I can actually remember the week when I realized that I could no longer put my arms all the way down next to me because my arm fat and my back fat created too much squishy resistance. (Now I walk around everyday trying to smile more because my natural arm stance looks as if I’m ready to take someone on in a sumo fight.)

I also took note of when I first rolled onto my side to fall asleep at night, only to find that I was short of breath. This was because my boobs and my stomach rolls teamed up and decided to kill my lungs by squishing them to death. And then recently, the only 3 pairs of jeans I have left (all 3 pairs of my previously labeled “fat pants”) decided to rub clean through in the upper thigh area. I now have holes, far too near my crotch, and had to go pants shopping (which, other than swim suit shopping, is the worst thing in the world – just in case you’re Miss Skinny Jeans and didn’t know this already).

Despite these dreaded things happening to my body, I didn’t cry. Crying over my weight is something I gave up in my twenties – back when I still had a faint memory of my metabolism, and before the PCOS hormone imbalance completely had scarred my view of self. Now… I just don’t look at myself anymore. I mean, I look in the mirror to do my make-up and hair (which I’ve kinda let go anyways), but I feel as though I’m looking through myself instead of at myself. I see the absolute “musts” that need to be seen before rushing away and immediately forgetting what I look like. My survival instinct is to remember myself at 30 – back when I was overweight but still somewhat healthy. I feel like it’s a compromise between the old me and the new me. This lets me get through the day without the tears spilling over, even when my big girl undies refuse to stay up over the tummy rolls.

I’ve seen so many doctors and had so much blood work – I’ve tried all of the diets and exercise routines there are. I mean I stick with them. But nothing works. And if one more medical professional tells me that I just need to cut my calories one more time, I will likely end up behind bars… as if I’d never thought of that! Two degrees and a decent IQ and it never even occurred to me to just “cut my calories”! In fact, I call BS on all the P90X and HCG plans, all the 5:2 diets and anything else that is too hard not to be given a name… just a dumb set of letters and numbers and punctuation marks. And as for all this Crossfit, Acefit, Kinofit nonsense… I just want my freaking pants to fit! (PS if a loved one tells me that my face is “still pretty” one more time, I will likely go postal, because all you’re saying is that I’m fat AND there’s a time limit on how long the front part of my head will hold up before it goes, too!)

Like I said, I try not to let this get to me on a daily basis. I don’t even use the “f-word” around my kids because I want them to grow up with a healthy sense of self – I want to be an example to them that shows that you can be happy and healthy, even if you’re wearing the “wrong” size. But today was pants shopping day. And Target was my safe place back when I used to have money to buy new things, so naturally that’s where I ended up.

After trying on 40 pairs of pants in women’s, plus size, and maternity, I still walked out with two pairs of jeans that make me feel old and frumpy. No khakis, no dress pants, no capris. There was nothing that worked on any level for this weird body of mine. In fact, between the tears that threatened to pour out and the horrifying lighting, I decided that even my knees are now fat (knees… things that are literally made of bone and cartilage and tendons… they are now fat. And old. I have old, fat lady knees which I didn’t even know about until today while attempting to find shorts.)

I stood there half naked in a Target dressing room, contemplating my looser, pale skin. My stretch marks and cellulite. My hair crimping around my neck from sweating under the fluorescent lighting. The stubby nails and the wrinkly hands. The decade old shoes that I keep getting fixed because they don’t hurt my arthritis like the trendy high heels do. The redness that’s creeped into my eyes, accompanied by the dark circles underneath them. The chin hairs… oh, the chin hairs!

Can getting old give you PTSD? Just wondering…

It was a very lowly and pitiful 2 minutes of reflection – a time in which I looked AT myself instead of through myself. Dinosaurs growled in the background from whatever my son was watching on YouTube. I started to giggle at the fact that I was in a posh town where every other woman in the store was super put-together, along with their toddler in tow. And there I was, in Target’s dressing room, looking at my life from such a physical sense, realizing that the theme song to my life would, in fact, be the soundtrack to DinoTrux. It seemed fitting.

I decidedly put the 38 items back while purchasing my two pairs of jeans. I re-layered myself in the clothes that I wore in, doing my best to cover the lumpiest parts. My toddler and I drove home quietly – away from the trendy city and back to our humble town filled with dollar stores and cows.

My life is not glamorous. I am not glamorous. But something that has been resounding with me lately is this: Identity. Who am I? Not “what” am I, but who? I decided that if I were going to allow the time to actually look at myself, I wasn’t just going to go over my flaws. Because that’s not WHO I am. I am God’s Child. I am a Queen. I am Loved Unconditionally. I am Chosen. I am Appointed and Anointed. I am Called. I am Covered in Grace. I am Forgiven. Redeemed. Made in a Holy Image. A Fighter. An Advocate. Fulfilled. Precious. Beloved.

And as ridiculous as it sounds, the words “thin”, “trendy”, “youthful”, and “glamorous” don’t even make the top 100 of my thoughts. They’re not even part of my goal when I think of my identity! That means that the war that the enemy tried to have with me back in Target this morning was over things that don’t even hold a candle to who God made me. I am not in my twenties. I am not thin. I am not perfected.

And I don’t care.

I am loved by God who created me. And that’s all I actually need.

Copy of Simple Steps to De-Stress Your Morning Routine

Here is our final guest article we are celebrating for the month of February, brought to us by Daniel Sherwin at dadsolo.com ! We could ALL use a little morning de-stress and are grateful for a dad who is on the ball!!!

For some reason, mornings tend to be busy and maybe even a little bit chaotic. You can make them easier by creating a morning routine that gets everyone up and out with as little chaos as possible. When you’re ready for the day, you’re ready to take on whatever life throws your way, including a temper tantrum or two. Here are tips to help you:

Additional Holiday Morning Routine Resources:

1. Prep the night before and other tips on how to establish a morning routine for kids that actually works
2. Easy and effective home organization tips
3. De-stress your morning routine tips
4. Breakfast to go and other secrets to getting the kids to school on time
5. Get plenty of sleep and other tips on how to establish a morning routine for kids that actually works
6. Play music (Revolutionary morning routine hack for kids)

When you’re ready for the day, you can take on the world.

Bring it on!

Making the Most of Rainy Days

To continue kicking off the month of February with guest posts and parenting resources, here is another amazing article about how to keep our kids' screen time productive during this rainy, cold season! Visit Jenny Wise at specialhomeeducator.com for more creative ways to parent!

Do you find yourself pulling your hair out every time a storm rolls in? Between sports, trips to the park, and running around the neighborhood with friends, we’re pretty good at keeping our kids active and busy when the weather is nice. But despite their treasure trove of toys and gadgets, our kids inevitably end up driving us crazy with complaints of boredom every time it’s too cold or rainy to go outside — or worse, they spend their day in front of the TV or latest video game console, and we get major parental guilt.

There’s no reason that rainy days need to be a waste or put your sanity at risk. But if you’re going to keep everyone happy when they’re stuck indoors, you’ll need to plan ahead. These are some favorite activities for rainy, snowy or otherwise blah days.

Coding games

Today’s kids seem to come out of the womb knowing how to use smartphones, tablets, computers and every other tech innovation that hits the market. And as parents, we’re in a constant battle to limit screen time and persuade our kids to do something other than play video games. But what if computer games could teach our kids valuable skills?

That’s the idea behind Scratch and ScratchJr, a pair of free apps that introduce kids to computer programming by letting them create interactive animations, stories, and games. Created by MIT, Scratch is more than fun  — it’s a way to foster creativity, logical thinking and basic programming concepts in children.

Online music lessons

Nothing beats the way kids’ faces light up when they’ve learned to play a new song. But playing an instrument isn’t just great for kids’ self-esteem, according to Time magazine, it also boosts their brain power and improves school performance. Rather than chauffeur your kids to yet another extracurricular, sign them up for online music lessons so they can learn and practice from the comfort of home. The only downside is that you have to listen to their trials, so you might want to skip the big brass instruments and drum sets in favor of something quieter.

Of course, you’ll need to buy an instrument before signing up for lessons. While there are a lot of cheap student models on the market, many are of such low quality that they never sound quite right. Rather than buying the cheapest instrument you can find, consider renting or buying a higher-quality instrument secondhand to give your child a chance to fall in love with the hobby. Music & Arts points out, “If you buy an instrument, you’ll have to decide whether to go new or used. Either way, the instrument needs to be easy to play, durable, repairable, and have a warranty.”

Geography Games

Your kids can become world travelers from the comfort of home with some creative geography games. You can make up your own game by letting kids choose a country on the map and then sending them on a quest to answer a list of questions you’ve devised. Depending on your children’s ages, you might ask them to look up basic details like the capital city, spoken languages, and greetings. Or, for older kids, have them uncover details of the country’s founding and explore its roadsides using GeoGuessr. If you don’t have the time to devise your own geography scavenger hunt, you can find a list of great geography-themed games online at Kid World Citizen.

It’s not easy to avoid screen time on dreary days, especially when you have things to get done. But screen time doesn’t have to mean wasted time. With a little legwork on your end, you can keep your kids’ brains growing with fun and educational online activities like these.

(Image via Unsplash )

An Everlasting Fugue

I’m currently sitting at my computer, fluffiest cat in my lap chewing on a hole in my jeans, while I pick my nails and rigorously assess my hair for split ends. This is what my writing process has come to. The dos and don’ts of what can and cannot be shared, the ever-increasing desire for privacy from my children as they age, legalities regarding Isaac and the child welfare system… these are the things that paralyze my writing – my very need to release has been hushed. There are so many thoughts swirling about my mind, preventing me from putting pen to paper, that I fear I will be bald and fingernail-less within the hour! So please, bear with me.

My husband said it best yesterday when he referred to our oldest two as the Mozart and Beethoven of nonsensical arguments. I’ll forgive him for the misquote due to his lack of composer knowledge… because obviously my kids are more like Bach. A schizophrenic Bach who got stuck in an endless loop of fugues, creating chaos while feeding off the other’s energy. Their composition is entitled Cameron and Taylor – An Everlasting Fugue. These two children are, in a sense, The Song That Never Ends. (At least Shari Lewis gets to rest in peace, unlike those of us living in my home.)

It’s to the point that even the three-year-old recognizes the disparities, both social and intellectual, between himself and his siblings. He regularly tells them to stop arguing and to “Quit acting like babies!” He reiterates that he already told them something ten times and, because I know he is my child, when they continue to ignore his directions he puts his arms in the air with a flourish and yells “I’m done!” before stomping away. (I swear it’s like looking in a mirror!)

But what Wyatt fails to understand at his young age is that Cameron and Taylor are stunted. Taylor remains under close watch and with limited freedom due to her extreme need to have the adults in her world enforcing moment by moment safety measures over her. This confuses Wyatt, as well as many of those close to us. When others look at her, they see a beautiful, vibrant 10-year-old. What they miss is the overwhelming need my daughter has to love and be loved in the only way she was shown as a young girl – a way that was traumatizing and abusive.

Even with Cameron, Wyatt constantly yells at him to stop being mean. And just like the regressed, overgrown toddler that Cameron is, he continues to instigate and torment, despite the consequences. But this week was a difficult one for him, both physically and emotionally. Not only did he have a kidney relapse after over-exerting himself on a youth group retreat, he also had his neuropsychological testing done. Whereas we haven’t received the results back from the 3.5-hour test, it was evident by the looks on both Cameron’s and the doctor’s faces that our follow-up appointment will be one that is lengthy. If that weren’t enough, on our way home from this exhausting test, we had no choice but to pass the town where Cameron lived before being adopted.

I do my best to avoid certain towns and neighborhoods with my children, but there are times when there is NO other route and the memories just start flooding. This was the case with my son as we drove home in silence from the doctor’s office. It was as if he couldn’t handle the thoughts in his head and they had to come out. As he spouted story after story, feeling after feeling, he made a statement that I’m still trying to process days later. He said that he has these feelings and thoughts that take over and he can’t stop thinking about them until he acts on them – things that make him want to do things that are dangerous, harmful to others, and scary. He admitted to actions that I had no idea about, things that he had previously kept hidden or blamed on others.

Ok, these are the moments that make you question becoming a parent, let’s be honest! There are days where I just sit there and wonder if I’m harboring future predators and serial killers (this increases the nail biting and hair picking by about a million percent) and then there are other days when I remind myself that it is RAD, brain damage, learned behavior – that they have a therapist, mostly sane parents, and a very big God. Those are the days that I remember to breathe as I push thoughts of felonies from my mind.

And then there’s Isaac. The sweet boy who is quickly fading under the perpetual weighty exposure of drugs, abuse, sex, and instability. With each new update on his condition, each failure of the police or CYS to rescue him, each broken Christmas toy and returned birthday gift – I am devastatingly aware that he was the one that was left behind. Cameron and Taylor were saved, even if it may have been too late. But Isaac is just a number – a statistic of gross negligence from society who wants to be helped but is quickly learning that help will not come. At least not for him. However… his smile is still a sight to behold. When I catch a glimpse of a new picture and see a hint of the twinkle that I remember so well, I feel a warmth spread through my soul. He is not a number to me.

So, on those days that my kids are fugueing up my very last nerve, I choose to remember the moments that have been special – like when Cameron thought Wyatt was having hallucinations because he was talking to himself (aka, using his imagination), or when Taylor asked us at kids’ church to pray for all the children who didn’t get cute boots for Christmas like she did, or when Wyatt told me he would be my best friend forever if I gave him some Doritos (followed by screams that I’m a “bad girl” because I didn’t give him Doritos), or when I think of Isaac’s belly laugh, the one that will never leave my mind, even though I’m sure he would wreak just as much havoc as the others if he were here with us today!

Despite the nonsensical arguments, the nail biting, and the split end picking, there is a beautiful and slightly distorted, off-key composition taking place in our home. Whether it’s a day of putting in ear plugs or choosing to sing along to the chaos, I know that our music will continue to grow and change – our everlasting fugue.