This Thanksgiving

Here we are again at the holiday season. For many, it’s a time of tradition- some old, some new. We have those that stuff their turkeys and those that prefer Stove Top (and we call these people The Chosen Ones because they are obviously superior), and we have those that top their yams with marshmallows while others sprinkle them with brown sugar. Some parties are all-out festivities while others are small, intimate gatherings. Yes, for many people, this is a time of family. A time of love and thanksgiving.

But there are also those families that find the holiday season stressful. Tiresome. There are the families that have a child (or even more than one) with issues of past trauma, making the holidays a less than loving affair. Between the tantrums and the hyperactivity, melt downs and let downs after expectations were set far too high, there may be little time left in the day for these Mamas and Papas to give thanks.

This Thanksgiving, if you find that you are the latter family, I want you to do something. Tonight, before the parties and get-togethers and shindigs are in full swing, I want you to walk into your child’s room and make sure that they are fast asleep. Then, I’m going to ask you to do something that your child may not allow you to do while they’re awake. I want you to lay your hands on their head and say a prayer of Thanksgiving for their life. (If you wait and do this after you’ve dealt with the melt downs of tomorrow, it will be soooo much harder, so please, do it tonight!)

And as you place your loving hands on their head, remember that they were created by a God that loves them just as much as He loves you. Remember that He has given you grace to get through the day and to breathe hope into that little life for another 24 hours. Thank God for the ability to see your child, even if just while he or she asleep, through heavenly eyes. And then finally, thank God that it is bedtime and you are finally able to breathe easily and rest for a few hours before the next day begins.

Take those moments that are quiet and find thanks.

But perhaps you are a family that loves your tradition. Your kids get excited about helping in the kitchen and prepping the table for your family and friends to arrive. Maybe your children are the ones that will dress in lovely, fresh outfits and use their manners and NOT be crawling under the table in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner to tantrum because things were not just as they felt they should be in that exact moment in time.

If you are one of those families, I want you to do something, as well. If you would, tonight, after your children are asleep and you’re done peeling your potatoes and prepping your bird, take 5 minutes and send up a prayer for the families that will be facing some stress tomorrow. Ask God to give those parents an extra dose of patience and peace, understanding and calm. If you know one of these families, send those Moms and Dads a loving text, email, phone call… something to let them know that they’ve got all kinds of love and moral support happening for them.

Just like soldiers prep for war, parents of trauma children spend each day prepping for battle, doing battle, and cleaning up the gory remains of battles past. Be their letters from home this holiday season, will you? Prayers, love, and encouragement… they go such a long way.

If you find yourself in need of some extra support, take a look at the MommyhoodSFS Membership Program. You don't have to walk this path alone.

A Little Light In A Dark World

I have never been a political blogger. Not only is it not my forte, but I strongly abhor the way it divides us as people – as cohabitors of the world that was uniquely created for us. But to ignore the events of Paris and Syria, bombings and starvation, religious riots and defiance against police across the nation…. I can’t do it. I can’t ignore the travesty that is occurring daily, despite my lack of insight or words to fix it.

So, to honor the events of late as simply as I can, this is my statement:

I am so very sorry. My heart is breaking for the thousands of victims and their families. I see the hurts, the pains, the fears, the losses. I see people pointing their fingers and others using their words as weapons in the midst of heartache. And although there is so very little I can say in all of this, I acknowledge your pain, and I am deeply, deeply sorry.

No matter on which political side we happen to fall, may we all stand together and recognize that human life is precious. Can we all remember that each life was created for a purpose – to be loved by its Creator and to accomplish things that only that life can? Is it alright to step outside of our own egos with their Rights and their Lefts flailing haplessly in the breeze of terror and join hands with one another in prayer for those that are literally losing everything?

If that is too much to ask, then it is you that I pray for this day.

Now, like I said, I’m no political blogger. So, let the following not negate the severity and immensity of what is happening in our world. Instead, allow me to help you step away from the raw and the tender for just one moment so that we can enjoy the greatness that is my baby dancing to Mo’ Soul.

Yes. You read that correctly.

Somehow, in my 18-month-old’s aim at greatness, he learned how to use the remote control to access the music channels on our TV. And let me tell you, he was not happy with any station other than the one entitled Mo’ Soul. Honestly, I’m not even sure what the apostrophe is standing for in this title, but what I DO know is that my very white child has enjoyed shaking his groove thang to it all morning long.

He may not look like he has a lick of soul in him, as evidenced by his lack of rhythm and poor vocal performance… but the boy has soul in his soul, and he’s not afraid to show it.

Please enjoy this little bit of light in a dark world. :)

It's Time To Move.

            “You can stand there all day, but it’s not gonna open.”

            My daughter’s words woke me from my busy fog. I looked up from my phone and forced back the thousands of thoughts swirling around me in time to see that I was, indeed, standing on the wrong side of the automatic door at our local grocer. There I was, responding to multiple texts, arms full of groceries, trying to organize the next 12 errands all the while listening to my 7-year-old talk without breath about the holiday decorations in her classroom at school. In my chaos, I must’ve went to the wrong door and had been standing there for who knows how long, waiting for it to open.

            I looked at my daughter as the situation began to sink in, and she said the words again. “You can stand there all day, but it’s not gonna open, Mom.”

            I could almost hear myself saying to this same phrase to her when she was little and would repeatedly go to the wrong door, seeing if she could “trick it this time”. For the record, she couldn’t. And neither could I.

            Yesterday, weeks after this incident occurred, I found myself at the same grocery store and in the same doorway. This time, I had chosen the correct door, but just barely. I was, once again, busy looking at my phone and running from place to place. I caught myself in time to step to the right and go through the correct door. But as I did, those familiar words rang through my mind once more.

            You can stand there all day, but it’s not gonna open.

            I was perplexed by the feeling that came over me as those words sank into my heart. I had this odd sensation that someone Great was trying to tell me something – that there was a message for me, on the tip of my mind’s tongue, trying to penetrate that thick skull of mine.

            I made it to my car and inserted the key, ready to go to the next store on my list. And then, it was as if the weight of all my internal bricks fell and I heard the message loud and clear. I heard what was being said to me.

            You can stand there all day, Shivonne, but it’s not gonna open.

            One after another, quickly as can be, thoughts flickered through my mind. I saw myself sobbing in the babies’ room – the room where Isaac used to be, playing with us, reading his books, enjoying his toys. You can weep there all day, but that door to joy… it’s not gonna open.

            I envisioned myself in the middle of a recent panic attack… my heart pounding and my breathing shallow, rapid. Anxiety made my mind feel light and I remembered that I kept putting off all those doctor appointments I was supposed to make. You can panic there all day, but that door to healing is not gonna open.

            Next, I saw my Bigs. I saw them arguing and fighting, lying and sneaking. I felt myself getting angry and bitter in the memory of it all, wanting to run away and live alone just to never have to hear one more bit of untruth, one more tattle, one more scream. You can be the victim there all day, but that door to connections and love is not gonna open.

            Finally, I felt all the failures. All the helplessness I’ve been experiencing. Trying to start a business but not having the know-how or the abilities. Trying to help our church grow but all my efforts being in vain. Trying to get ahead financially and having the car break down again. Trying to lose weight but the doctors not being able to find out what’s wrong with my body. Trying to keep my calm with my kids but constantly losing my temper. Trying to make our old home nice while the roof leaks into my living room. Trying to be all things to all people, while simultaneously trying to keep myself from going off the deep end.

            Shivonne, my love, you can fail here all day, but that door to freedom isn’t going to open.

            Needless to say, by this point, I was the crazy lady sitting in her minivan crying hysterically in the grocery store parking lot. People passed. People stared. People quickly tucked their heads and moved on. And in that moment of release, I didn’t even care. I couldn’t care. There was not enough energy to be found to give one thought to what other’s would possible conclude about me in that second.

            Because God was doing something. He was showing me all the doors that were not opening. He was pointing out all the times that I stood at the wrong door and tried to “trick” it into opening with my silly ideas of grief and panic, victimization and failure. To think that if I cried hard enough, the door would open. To imagine that if I told the door all my failures, it would take pity on me and let me pass.

            It was nonsense. All of it.

            In the book of Revelation it says this in chapter 3:7-8, “What He opens no one can shut, and what He shuts no one can open. I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name.”

            There I was, weeping and failing at closed doors, when all this time God’s been like, “Um, yeah… there’s an open door right over there. Look up! Take off those blinders! Cancel some errands and stop expecting closed doors to open!”

The verse even says it… God sees our little strength. Friends, does anyone else out there find themselves in the status of Little Strength right now? Yeah. That could be my Indian name, quite honestly. But God sees that! He sees it and is saying HELLO, WAKE UP!!! He’s challenging us to walk around these closed doors… to MOVE…and to find the doors that He’s already opened for us to walk through.

Sometimes in life, we have to face hard things. We have to let go of things that we hold onto so tightly. We have to stop knocking and setting up camp at the doors of dreams that He hasn’t called us to in the first place. We have to move past the things that look good on the outside because He’s opened a door to something that’s great just around the corner.

We can stand there at those closed doors all day, but they’re not gonna open… because He’s already opened all the doors we need. He’s already made a way. The door is just around the corner. Pick up your tents, roll up those sleeping bags. There is no need to mark time at closed doors any longer. It’s time to Move.