Stinkin' Thinkin'

So I'm sitting with Rhys a few mornings ago and he's writing out his alphabet.  Sounds simple, eh?  He knows his alphabet and knows the sounds each letter makes but he struggles with recognizing some of the letters and writing the alphabet out takes him a while.  So while he's doing it, I'm sitting there beside him, trying to spur him on but I`m noticing that everything coming out of the boy's mouth is negative.  Everything.  He wasn't just whining about having to do it, he is saying stuff that was just....wrong! 

Though it wasn`t the first time he's complained about having to do school work (an academic he isn`t) and it wasn't the first time he's spoken negatively about himself (we call him Eyore) the effect it had on me was a first and I felt.....helpless.  I didn`t know what to do.  I knew I couldn`t do what I usually did and so I started to write:

"God, I see myself in Rhys.  The frustration and negativity.  The self-deprecation to the point where he doesn`t even want to try.  He`s lying to himself....but when he's encouraged, he beams!......He needs me; he needs me to encourage him.... He needs me to build him up......Thank you, Father; thank you for eyes to see. Help me to speak life."

Sometimes as a mom, God gives me one of those "teaching moments"; I love that. More often as a mom, God has given me "student moments".  Opportunities when He is showing me, reminding me of things that I am talking to one of the kids about.  In the past few weeks, I have watched as my children have shown courage, discipline, love, loyalty, forgiveness....to people in their sphere of influence, of which I am one, and I have been challenged to my core. 

While I'm writing, I'm crying.  I turn to my boy and say "Rhys, you're lying to yourself honey....don't believe those lies.  You are not stupid.  You are not an idiot.  You are a smart boy and you do like to learn.  I see you smile when you read; I see you smile, Rhys.  Sometimes it's hard, yes, but it is worth it honey.  It's hard now, yes, but you can do it, Rhys, and it will have been worth it!"

I don't know if I've communicated this well at all, but it was like someone flicked a switch; not only in my head (or more correctly in my thinking) but in my son and the little boy who was spouting such.....crap.....barrelled through his Word Building and then was on to his math, alternating between telling me how easy it was, and how much he loved me.  

"Can we do more, mom?" 

Yes Rhys; we can do more.  There is always more.

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing.  Fix your thoughts

on what is true, and honourable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and

admirable.  Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. 

Phil 4:8 NLT

Everyday, Ordinary.....Life

This morning I was working with Rhys.  He’s such a sweet boy and I love him to distraction however he does have a couple annoying little quirks. Though I'm quite sure that as he matures, these things will work for him rather than against him, right now they are mostly a huge pain in my patootie.  (I didn’t think that was a work, but whad’ya know, I found it here:  http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=patootie)

Rhys.  Sensitive, caring, loving….and one of the best little kissers in this world!  This is the boy that tells Jesus he loves him "more than gold".  He is also the boy who lives to be entertained; by the tv, the computer, xbox, smart phone, kindle.  You name the electronic device, he’s played on it or watched someone play on it.  From the moment his eyes open at approximately 6 a.m. until the moment his sweet head touches his pillow, he’s pestering somebody to let him play, watch, play while watching or watch while playing…..you get the idea.  It’s not just that he enjoys doing these things, but he is persistent beyond belief when he asks to do these things.  Drives me crazy BUT I’m SURE that as he matures, his perseverance will pay off.  Though I wouldn’t wish a sales position on anybody, people would say yes to Rhys just to get rid of him.  He actually talked his sister into paying him the other day, just so he’d be quiet.  What an entrepreneur. 

The other little thing that irks me is his ability to not remember anything.  At least, that’s what he’d love for me to believe.  This particularly irksome habit arose this morning while we were working on math.  He’s learned what we call the “buddies” of 10….1 and 9, 2 and 8, 3 and 7….and so on.  I was showing him how he can use his buddies when he’s subtracting and one number is greater than 10, but less than 20.  I’m not sure why I’m going into such detail here but bear with me.  So for 2 pages I go over 3 steps with him, and he gets the answers right virtually every time, but when I ask him to do one by himself, he can't.  When I tell remind him to use the three steps, his response is  “I forget”. 

I’m 46 years old and pre-menopausal; I work from home with my husband, a defence lawyer, and our beautiful daughter.  We were blessed to have 8 children, the oldest, Meagan, is almost 25 and the youngest, Tess, is almost 4 (but thinks she’s almost 25) and I home school the 6 and 7 year old boys. It's a busy house and by the end of the day, this mama's tired.  Aside from that, I do recognize that my patience is not what it once was and can run thin at times.  This morning was one of those times and as I walked away from my sweet boy, I suggested to him, strongly, that he could sit there all day until he finished the math.  Well, that doesn’t really work with Rhys…..'cause he has no problem just sitting there and that's exactly what he did. 

Flummoxed, I sat down and looked at him.  “What do you mean, you forget.  We’ve gone over and over this, Rhys; it’s three steps.  How can you not remember three steps?  You have to think, ya know; you don’t just sit there and hope the answer drops into your lap…..you have to think about what you’re doing”. 

And then it hit me.  That’s me…..I do that.  I repeat, often without thought, the same stupid things over and over and over again.  Bad choices resulting in bad behaviour and often consequences that I hadn't thought of.  In that moment I could only imagine what must be God’s frustration.  He’s obviously not pleased with me.  I thought about how it must hurt him deeply.....and yet it doesn't keep him away.  Rather than feel God's frustration or his condemnation, as his daughter I only know his patience, forgiveness and grace.  I struggle away from him for a time, but when I turn and look for his help, He’s there.   

And so was Rhys.  Right there, just asking for a little more help and the least; the very least I could do for this sweet boy that I love beyond distraction, is to give it. 

Romans 12: 1, 2 The Message

1  So here's what I want you to do, God helping you; Take your everyday, ordinary life-your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life- and place it before God as an offering.  Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him.  2  Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking, Instead, fix your attention on God.  You'll be changed form the inside out.  Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it.  Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you. 

Stuck

I’ve been stuck.     Call it a rut, call it negative thinking, fear.....call it sin. In as much as my desire is to live in relationship with God and others honestly, I find I have worked myself into a corner where I am anything but honest. Here I hold people at arm’s length. In this place, my life revolves around me, rather than others. In this place I make bad choices and live with a victim mentality and I take steps backward rather than press on. I can relate at a certain level, but not at the level that I want to. Not at the level that want to. Not at the level that I know God wants me to.

I’ve been challenged, encouraged and convicted recently. I have had several people who have made themselves vulnerable to me and opened up and shared their ugly. I count that a privilege....truly. It isn’t easy to let someone into the midst of your mess and I deeply admire those who can be transparent with someone. Not only do I want to be willing to hearing those who come to me, I want to open myself and be honest with those I'm in relationship with, too.

Recently Cam shared with us from his own experience. That took a lot of courage and as I listened to him I had to tell the mother side of my head to be quiet and just listen. What he said challenged me, and I have told him so. He was shown something and rather than deny it, he acknowledged it for what it was. His experience has drawn him closer to God and he has made himself accountable to those who he knows will be both supportive and unafraid to challenge him.

After Rhys was born, I was dealing with what I thought was postpartum depression and it may well have been, however there was a lot going on in our lives at the time.....but when I found myself with my back against the wall, I made a decision and chose to use the opportunity to be honest, not just with myself, but with those I was in relationship with.

Every once in a while I get an email from Dr. Larry Crabb; a well known psychologist.  I received one of those emails this morning; this paragraph grabbed me:

"For many Christians, denial has become a habit. Chronic denial as a means of coping leads to a stiffness and rigidity that may for a time masquerade as emotional stability. People who are neither excitable nor moody can look very spiritual. The evidence of their immaturity is unmistakable, however; people who deny how they really feel typically are unable to enter and touch another person's life deeply. Because they have sealed off deep parts within themselves, they can neither discern nor properly deal with deep parts in others."

That's not the person I want to be.

I was encouraged this Christmas, as I have been for a few years now, to make time to write. Despite that encouragement, over the past few years I’ve actually written less and it got me to wondering why. When I started back in 2007 trying to be intentional about it, I did it for me. I found it cathartic; if someone else benefited in some way, great, but that wasn’t my focus. It wasn’t always easy trying to communicate my thoughts, but I always felt better after I had done it. I liken the experience to the Psalms.....particularly those written by David. In many of them he starts out complaining, and “woe is me” but by the end , his focus has changed from himself to his God. As time went on, I think there was a shift and I spent more time focused on what others thought of what I wrote. I was looking for the pat on the head and rather than open myself up to what I perceived to be rejection, I just stopped writing.....after all, I’m busy. Busy, busy, busy. I would love to get to a place where people’s opinions matter not, but I’ve a ways to go.

In our house, we often acknowledge our human state to be like “twisted pieces of human wreckage” BUT no matter how twisted I am, God loves me and on the days when I don’t understand why, I will choose by faith to accept that he does.

My Goal

I homeschool Declan (7) and Rhys (6). Please don't confuse what I do with what many home schooling mom's do; I simply order material from ACE in the States and supervise....most days. I struggle to be consistent and some days wonder if I'm doing them any favours at all.....then I remember doing the same thing with my eldest 3 and they did just great.

Anyway, the beginning of each new PACE starts with "My Goal". It's good to have a goal but despite knowing that, I've not been great at making goals. Meaningful ones. I am a "fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants" kind of gal and that serves me well much of the time and explains why I'm still sane but in the past few weeks I've been thinking I need to change that. If you feel a sudden draft, it's because my husband and children are collectively breathing a sigh of relief.

So, I'm working on breaking some old habits (ugh) and replacing them with new ones, trying not to do too much at once so that I have half a hope of actually seeing some real change. Earlier this week I read Isaiah 58....and read it again. It's a great chapter with lots in it, and there were a few things that stuck out and then I read it again using The Message and something leapt off the page:

8 Do this and the lights will turn on, and your lives will turn around at once. Your righteousness will pave your way. The God of glory will secure your passage. 9 Then when you pray, God will answer. You'll call out for help and I'll say, 'Here I am.' A Full Life in the Emptiest of Places.

A Full Life in the Emptiest of Places. I love that.

So how do I achieve this lofty goal?

"If you get rid of unfair practices, quit blaming victims, quit gossiping about other people's sins, 10 If you are generous with the hungry and start giving yourselves to the down-and-out, Your lives will begin to glow in the darkness, your shadowed lives will be bathed in sunlight. 11 I will always show you where to go. I'll give you a full life in the emptiest of places - firm muscles, strong bones. You'll be like a well-watered garden, a gurgling spring that never runs dry. 12 You'll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew, rebuild the foundations from out of your past. You'll be known as those who can fix anything, restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate, make the community livable again.

Storms

It came in quickly last evening......it wasn't the first time we had a front row seat as the sky darkened and the winds picked up and blew the front door open! I love a good storm; always have. As a kid, I loved listening to the rain on our steel roof; loved sleeping in the tent trailer and listening to the rain hit the canvass and I LOVE the natural light show. Last evening I watched as the wind create "white caps" on the usually quiet river. Boats that had been caught playing headed for home.

Declan, Rhys and Tess were on the one hand curious and on the other hand nervous. Between Dec's comments of "wow, look at that", I could hear Rhys' more quiet "mom, I'm scared". With the way the trees were being whipped about, I didn't want them standing in front of the picture window, so I herded them into the bedroom where Brad was channel surfing.....I think we do more channel surfing than watching t.v....but again, I digress. Carleigh had been away in Toronto for the weekend with Saxon and I had to go and get her at the Fallowfield Station. It hadn't started raining hard...yet, but the wind had blown the recycling down the stairs and so I made my way gingerly, avoiding the broken pickle jar. The wind was still whipping, and there were branches strewn about the yard.

As I drove, the evidence of the storm lay everywhere; branches of varying sizes lay broken where they fell, garbage put out that evening was blowing around freely. Once I turned on Rideau Valley, two fire trucks coming from Manotick drove past in a big hurry......I silently prayed. Not a great time for a fire; never a great time for a fire.

In Manotick I could see pieces of white stuff on the road and thought at first it was hail. Soon enough I realized it was styrofoam that had been blown and beaten into submission and had come to settle beneath the back end of a truck. The streets were quiet, except for cars that were hastening home. I made it without incident to Fallowfield....hummed a few bars of "I See the train a comin'" by Johnny Cash, retrieved my daughter and went home. It didn't take long to clean up the errant recycling, taking care of the broken glass. I made a few frogs nervous.

I got in the house, dried and changed and was walking through the living room to the kitchen when I looked out at the river. The trees weren't blowing, but looked weary and bent from their battering.....they looked as though they were mourning the loss of their broken friends. The once white-capped river seemed abnormally calm. Almost as though there had been no disturbance at all.

This morning the duck family was out front here, making the most of what I imagine the wind had churned up from the bottom of the river. I'm no expert at what happens to a river during a storm, but it makes sense to me that the wind that blew so fiercely last evening, enough to create white caps on this lazy river, was enough to bring some good stuff to the surface! It made me think of the storms that hit our life. Almost always they come as a surprise and seem to bring such ferocity with them; I can only speak for myself, but anxiousness ensues, frantic prayers.....and yes sometimes "why me". Somewhere in that midst of all my frazzled feelings comes a thought; a reminder from where my help comes. The storm may have taken me by surprise, but it never takes my Lord by surprise.

^1-2 I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from mountains?
No, my strength comes from God,
who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.

^3-4 He won't let you stumble,
your Guardian God won't fall asleep.
Not on your life! Israel's
Guardian will never doze or sleep.

^5-6 God's your Guardian,
right at your side to protect you—
Shielding you from sunstroke,
sheltering you from moonstroke.

^7-8 God guards you from every evil,
he guards your very life.
He guards you when you leave and when you return,
he guards you now, he guards you always. Psalm 121

Panic, pruning, praise.......peace.

Home is.....

I started writing this particular post about 2 years ago, but for whatever reason, never posted it. So, I edited it, provided an update and posted it.....but it didn't post at today's date. So, I'm giving 'er another whirl!

I try not to focus on the fact that we're not at "home"; most days I'm successful. When we were offered the use of the mobile home, we thought (hoped??) that our stay would be temporary - a couple weeks; sort of like an unplanned vacation. We had a service man in to take a look at the furnace when we first got there just days following the fire and in the course of our conversation he asked whether we'd be here come winter. I pretty quickly responded in the negative. That wasn't the plan...... winter seemed such a long way off in April but what seemed a long way off then, doesn't seem far enough away now.

My prayer and goal is to get back into the south wing of our place before winter and I am hopeful that will happen. However, our plans are largely dependent on circumstances that are beyond our control. In order to avoid future disappointment, I have to manage my expectations now. I have to be content and prepared to stay here for as long as that is required. It's in that regard I can learn a thing or two from my youngest children.

We are told that children are "a heritage, a gift or a blessing" given to us so that we might train them up in the way they should go, and yet we can learn so much from them. At least I do. I've had times when I've thought I was revealing some great truth to my kids only to realize that the message was clearly intended for me. We've not had to deal with tears or tantrums about being in a strange or different place. Dec and Rhys went from having their own beds to sharing a mattress on the floor without complaint. We weren't here very long when I heard Rhys refer to the trailer as "home". Though that didn't make me feel all warm and tingly, I realized that my kids are safe and secure when their family is together, wherever that is.

Yesterday Tess was playing in the kitchen, looking through the cupboards yattering away at me. She doesn't care about where she plays or sleeps as long as she is with her family. Her actions reminded me that home isn't as much about where we live, but who we live with; Home is less about a building and more about the people who inhabit it.

Filling in the blanks: I started writing this around the end of June, 2009 and here we are in July of 2011. We transitioned....again....from the mobile to the "house on the river" last August to make room for kids returning home. Here the three youngest share a bigger mattress on the floor....Tess likes sleeping with "her boys" and before we just let her do it, we would find here there anyway. You learn after the 6th or 7th not to sweat the small stuff. In my last post I shared about our first home where we were blissfully happy for the four weeks that we were there. It was never home again following the accident. It needed work to get it winterized and there wasn't time or ability following the accident. Though Brad's practice was thriving before hand, being in hospital for a month followed by weeks and months of physical therapy and recovery that clearly had an affect on his ability to provide legal services,. It was the first time I was faced with the concept of God's provision. Following the hospital stay, friends offered us the use of their basement apartment and then we sub-let an apartment from a lady who went south for the winter. When I was 6 months pregnant, I was diagnosed with Toxemia, which I believe they now call pre-eclampsia. I was put on strict bed rest and my sister moved in with us to take care of me and, much to my dismay, our home. A month or so before Meagan arrived, we moved into my parents' home....this was all in our first year of wedded bliss! Though it isn't the dream of any newlywed couple, we lived happily there til Meagan was 9 months when we bought a wee house in Richards Landing. The family grew and pretty soon we needed more space, so we bought a bigger place just down the road......A change in Brad's employment took us to Gore Bay on Manitoulin Island; we also called Kagawong home for a while. From Manitoulin we ventured north to the Northwest Territories and enjoyed 3 years in Yellowknife. From there to Hatfield Crescent in Orleans, to "the Palace" just south of Kemptville..

The buildings have changed; we've added more children nd have had the privilege of having others make them their home with us too. For me, home is definitely less about a building and more about the people who inhabit it.

Enjoying the Journey

Last evening we had company and were talking about "enjoying the journey". Anyone who has ever had a goal or dream or.....traveled with small children, can relate. "When are we gonna be there" is a question not allowed when we took road trips and we encouraged the kids to "enjoy the journey". I find that I have to remind myself of that; sometimes I can be so focused on what I see as the reward, that I miss so much getting there. Joseph had a dream, but I know that dream didn't include a pit, being sold or doing jail time.

I didn't have a lot of dreams growing up; it just wasn't part of my thinking and it wasn't really encouraged either. I didn't make plans about what I wanted to be or what I hoped to accomplish for God....to be honest, I wasn't sure I could do anything for him. At some point, I did know that I wanted to get married and have a family. I accomplished that one REALLY well! 25 years ago this past June 21 I married a man who treated me as no one else had. He was very different from anyone I knew and he was from "off the Island". When you live on an Island, there are two types of people: Islanders and non-Islanders. You also have "city" people and "country folk", "saved" and "unsaved" and "churched" and "unchurched". We categorize people....it's just the way it is. But I digress.....

So, 21 and married. My husband planned completely on his own an absolutely beautiful honeymoon. We spent 2 weeks on the West coast of this beautiful Country; we drove up the coast and took in the sites; gondola rides up mountains, white water rafting and a lovely cruise back down to the top of Vancouver Island. We did all the tourist things in Victoria and to top it all off, we spent 3 days at Expo in Vancouver before flying home It was a lovely time. While away, Brad had made arrangements for his mobile home to be moved to 400 acres of land he owned north of Sault Ste. Marie; it was a lovely property that included it's own lake and we had plans, dreams of building our home on the mountain with a view of that lake. I had given up my job before we married; we knew we wanted a family and didn't want to grow accustomed to having a second income. Brad's law practice was doing well and could certainly provide for us; we owned our own home and life was good!

We'd been home for about 4 weeks and I went into the office; I can't recall why....perhaps I was filling in for someone. I came home a little early so I could do laundry; Brad was catching a ride with my dad and sister so he could pick up his motorcycle and typically I would go with him, but not on this day. I was at home, puttering around, the radio was on in the background when I heard about an accident on the highway between the Sault and St. Joe. I stopped short and had a gut feeling. I called Kev; he had been Brad's best man and told him what I'd heard. He put my mind at ease and told me not to worry. A short time later he called back to let me know that he'd called the police, but the car involved wasn't a jetta. Whew. I started to breathe again.

It wasn't long after that I got a call from a cousin; he had been on his way home from the Sault and had passed the accident. He saw dad's car and confirmed that they had been involved and the fire and ambulance were at the scene.

I don't remember all of what transpired next.....but I talked to Kev again who told me to stay put and that he'd come and get me. It was the longest wait of my life, to that point. When I arrived at the hospital, they took me into Emerg to see my husband. His head was the size of a pumpkin and his one eye swollen shut. He had been asking for me....repeatedly. He didn't believe that I wasn't with him. In addition to suffering a concussion which mercifully caused him to lose consciousness, he had some rather nasty gashes on his forehead and eyelid that had come very close to his eye. He'd broken his femur and shattered his tibia and fibula. Surgery would be required, but he'd have to spend the night in ICU on what I think was a fracture board due to the more severe injuries of others. After assuring Brad I was fine, which I would have to do again thanks to the concussion, I was taken to see dad. The Sault had two hospitals, virtually side by side and dad was in the other one. Mr. Tulloch held my hand as we walked and prepared me as best he could. Dad had been driving and had taken the brunt of the impact and I was left with the impression that it wasn't known if he would survive. Both femurs were broken, his knee caps busted and the bones in his feet. When they'd x-rayed his pelvis, it was cracked as well. I remember looking at my father's broken body, the ugly colour of him and his legs laying at awkward angles. Mercifully, I can't recall how I felt.

My sister D'Arcy was 16 years old and had been in the backseat. She'd broken her femur as well, but still required two surgeries and spent close to a month in hospital. Brad was next to be released, right around the month mark and dad followed shortly after. As a family, we celebrated; though they only had 2 good legs between them, we hadn't had to stand at anyone's graveside. Even the young man who was in the other vehicle had survived and following lots of surgery told Brad years later that he was "better looking than ever". In addition to some other injuries, all of the bones in his face were broken when he was ejected through the front window. He was a young army recruit, headed west and had fallen asleep at the wheel. He had been just a few bed's down from my dad in ICU and in the absence of family, my mom would go and sit at his side. Over the course of the next weeks we did hear comments about how the accident could have been avoided if......you'd prayed that morning with your husband......you'd been living "right". We people who profess Christ can say the stupidest things at times.

It was while these three were in the hospital that I learned Brad and I were expecting. Somewhere on the coast of Beautiful B.C......sorry. I recall going into ICU to see my dad following a survery so I could share with him the good news that he was going to be a grandpa; he couldn't speak as his vocal chords had been damaged, but he closed his head, squeezed my hand and nodded. The day Meagan was born he walked into my hospital room wearing a sharp new black fedora and a huge grin. He was a proud papa.

I have learned in the last 25 years that I do have dreams; some are relatively small and have been realized and some are "friggin' huge" and have not. There have been many twists and turns along the way....most of them NOT what I would have planned. You see, I don't particularly enjoy difficulty or discomfort; I have no plan on ever jumping from an airplane or tying a bungy cord around my ankle. I am not an adventurer by nature, but I must acknowledge that I have experienced a deeper growth in my faith when I'm knee high in.....manure, 'cause that's when I'm more apt to be relying on God's strength rather than my own. I've had many times when I've come to the absolutely end of myself and have said "ok, Lord....I give. I trust you". I love reminding myself from where God has brought us. It may not have been as history making as the crossing of the Red Sea, but he has shown himself so faithful and I KNOW HE WILL CONTINUE TO BE SO 'cause it's who he is.

I love to travel....love road trips but if I knew before I left Ypsilanti last Friday that I was going to be stuck on the side of the 401 on July 1 with a flat tire, I would have done something about it. But I didn't know.

If I'd known at any juncture along my journey what lay ahead of me, I probably never would have married, forget having a baby....or 8. But I didn't know.

That's why it's a faith walk and not a cake walk! One of my favourite verses is 1 Cor 10:13

"No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it."

God has redeemed me; he is in the restoration business and he IS making all things new. I will continue to hope and trust in him and enjoy the journey.