It's the greatest show on earth

     I have had so much rolling around in my head the past couple weeks. My pastor gave a great sermon two weeks ago that kicked off a series " The Family Circus". I will tell you after hearing it my toes were sore, he was stepping all over them for half an hour.


Jerry likened our families to the circus, there's a ring-leader, strongman, lion tamer, clowns, the girl riding the elephants and many others. We can all switch rolls, I personally start every day thinking I'm the ringleader. I want to keep all three rings running smoothly, but by five o'clock I'm usually just he lion tamer, trying to keep wild animals from hurting themselves or others. Brad is my strongman, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and making it look easy. Tate is my girl riding the elephants, she loves to be looked at, oooohhed and ahhhed over. Turner is sometimes my clown, but more often he's the ground crew making sure minor details are handled and the show is running smoothly.



This was an analogy that I could get into. My toes started to hurt when he pointed out that children are made to leave their parents, right from the moment they are born. The second a baby's chord is cut is their first step towards independence, they breathe on their own. OK, that was harsh but true. I think part of the reason I loved nursing my children so much is because it was the one thing that no one else could do for them. There was absolutely no better food, and I was the only one they needed. It wore me out, but I'm proud to say that neither one of my babies ever had one ounce of formula. Those fourteen months with each of my kids was great and it prolonged them being "my babies".



What made my heart ache was being told, in no uncertain terms, that I can not protect my children. Life is out there, heart ache is coming, and I can not protect them. How dare he?! Doesn't he know I've happily been sticking my head in the sand and ignoring that fact for exactly six and a half years? I purposely don't watch the news too much so I can ignore how terrible the world is, and try to forget that it is what is waiting for my children. It was not a message without hope, it became a call to action. Prepare. As a parent I can not protect them, but I can prepare them. Give them the tools to ready themselves for the storms ahead.



I try not to be a helicopter parent. I hate hovering. I try to let my kids work things out on their own. I try to let them be independent. I try to give them enough responsibilities, show them how to work hard. But is the right balance being struck? When they were babies the worries were few. They simply needed to be clean, fed, and healthy. I got my first taste of true fear last August when I had to let my sweet Turner walk into school, stay there under the care of strangers and not walk back out for seven hours. After the first couple weeks my anxiety waned and his being gone all day became our new normal. God made us adaptable, and I thank Him for that.



I know I will have to watch myself with making things too easy for my kids. I feel like Brad and I are the cause of a lot of heartache for them, with Brad's career causing us to move every two years. Always knowing they'll be uprooted, I want to make other things easy on them. Give them a break, help them a little more than I should. I can't help it, I'm their mom. I want their lives to be sunshine and rainbows, smiles and cotton candy all the time. They know it's not. The other day Turner used the phrase "a forever home". He wanted to know if we ever get a forever home, can he get a real basket ball goal? My heart broke a little. My six year old now understands what leasing a house means. He knows it's not ours, although we live in it and make our home in it, it is still just temporary. He's so grown up, and he's only six. How will my heart take it when he is ten and even more grown up?



The moving, the being own our own with no family help or support has grown us all up quite a bit. I won't lie, the first four or five years of our marriage were rough. We had to get used to being married, moving a couple thousand miles from home, having two children, and moving to four different homes. Now I wouldn't trade it for anything, but man it stunk a lot of the time while it was happening. I hope that's how my children look back on their childhoods. They will have good memories to mix in to the hurt of moving. I pray it will make them stronger and better equipped for new experiences. I hope some of this is helping get them ready for the world beyond our home. I know I can't protect them, that I need to get them ready for what is to come. But I want to believe it when I tell them everything is all right, mommy won't let anything hurt you, you are safe.

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes...

      I sit tonight thinking of you.   The radio in your sister's room is playing "A dream is a wish your heart makes".   You would be four now.  You are one of the three wishes my heart made.  I miss you every day, I will never go a day with out thinking about you.  You were a wish I only got to carry for far too short a time but you were mine all the same. 
     I'm not sure about the rules of a miscarriage.  It's a taboo subject.  It becomes a medical term and not a baby lost, but not to me.  I am torn between missing you and rejoicing in your sister who was born only two months after you should have been.  I feel like I shouldn't miss you because I got to have Tate, but I miss you. 
   I've always thought it odd that most OB/GYN's are male.  How can you care for an airplane and instruct a person on how to fly if you've never been in an airplane or flown one is my thinking?  But I give them credit.  They are about the only ones who recognize you.  Every new city brings a new OB/GYN.   A new set of forms, a new list of questions.  The one that trips me up is how many pregnancies have you had?  Not how many children have you had, how many pregnancies.  They count you. 
    I think there are different parts to heaven.  I'm not sure where I'll reside.  I know you and all other like you- untouched and untarnished by the world will be nearest Him.  I will find you.  I will hold you and know you were mine.
    I often get asked where I get all my energy.  I say I have a lot of frustration to work off.  I still haven't figured out if I am running my way toward you trying to catch something that long ago left or if I'm trying to out run the memories of you I never got to have.  You are in the shadow between my son and daughter.  You would have the brown eyes to match mine.   You will always be the late April shower that made way for the flower that is my Tater.   As the song says "In dreams you will loose your heart ache".  You are in my dreams still.  My hear doesn't ache for you in my dreams, it holds you there. 
     

My Chemical Romance

       I love my family, no big shocker.  But I really enjoy them when all the chemicals in my head are balanced just right.  I have an across the board policy that I can't be friends with you unless you are currently on, or have ever been on what I lovingly call "crazy pills".  What are these wondrous crazy pills?  They are anti-depressants. 
     The negative stigma associated with anti-depressants isn't nearly as bad as it used to be, although I know quite a few people who would rather cut off there own foot rather than take them.   I love my feet and I am keeping both of them, so I happily take my crazy pill every day.  Am I crazy?  I don't think I am truly insane but I function much better and I am much nicer to be around while on my blessed crazy pills. 
     Depression runs in my family.  The life of uprooting my family every two years, feeling alone in new cities, mourning for the loss of friends and watching my children be forced to adapt is apparently enough to trigger mine.  I have been off and on crazy pills since I was eighteen.  After  my children were born I went through crippling post partum depression.  Now I just stay on them.  To me it is no different than being genetically predisposed to high blood pressure and relying on medication to keep it in check. 
     Some people may say "But you are so happy.  You don't need antidepressants."  Those people don't get that I am able to express my happiness because of my Wellbutrin, not in spite of it.  I am a generally happy person, nothing about my personality is changed, just my ability to appreciate my life.  Mood is not just a state, it is a chemical equation.  I still get mad, angry, upset, fed up, and frustrated.  That never changes, but I am able to be happy, appreciative, and loving thanks to my CP.
      My brain runs low on serotonin.  Serotonin seems to be the key to happiness.  I am not able to make up my mind and just "be happy".   I take my Wellbutrin every  morning just like my other vitamins.  It's just replacing a chemical that my brain is having trouble making. 
      I worried a little about singing the praises of my crazy pills.  Many will judge, some will put their hand to their chest and say "I would never..." .  Well good for you, I would never take them either but I have to so I choose to not make it a bitter pill to swallow.  Why feel bad over what is similar to a vitamin deficiency.  My calling them Crazy Pills probably doesn't help the negative stigma.  But it is my loving nick name for them.  Much like I joke and call Turner my watermelon head. 
     I'm very lucky that most of my friends don't seem to care that I take Crazy Pills.  I've even found others who swim in my end of the pool and I think we'd all tell you come on in the water's fine.  Sweetness used to be very bothered that I took an anti-depressant.  Back in those days I wasn't calling him Sweetness either.  He couldn't understand why he wasn't enough for me to be happy.  He thought is was a mind-set or a decision to be made by me, not something you take a medicine for.   So I asked him why wasn't I enough to be healthy for?  Why couldn't he make up his mind to just get off of his blood pressure pills?   He finally got it.  He finally listened.  Sweetness and my kids are very much enough to be happy for.  I am just able to  be happy about them when I have the right amount of serotonin. 
     So this morning I'll take my crazy pill and smile.  My beautiful children will be up in a little bit.  My Sweetness is hard at work for us.  I am one lucky girl to be able to see all of that and enjoy it.
        

Not enough room?

     I had to hold myself back today.  I about told a four year old girl where she could step off, real Christian right?  I managed to keep myself from unleashing on a bratty four year old, but just barely.  What did this girl do to make a grown woman get so mad?  She hurt my baby girl's feelings. 
     Tate and I got home from our gym/couponing morning errands and saw our sweet neighbors playing outside.  No sooner than I turned the car off  was Mary Ella poking her head into the carport asking if Tate could come play.  I love Mary Ella, she is beautiful inside and out and has a generous heart just like her mother.   Tate and I walked over to talk with Amy and the little girl she was baby sitting.  This little girl ran off, mad because Mary Ella had another friend.  While Amy and I were talking this little girl fell to the ground sobbing like she had been stung by something.  What was wrong with the little angel?  She was screaming that she wanted to go inside with Mary Ella, but not her other friend, my Tater.
    It was clear to me that this child gets just about what ever she wants with this crying/screaming routine.  Tate and I went back to our house and I could tell her feelings were really hurt.  Tate has thick skin, not much gets to her but this did.  After seeing my baby girl shunned by another child who made her feel unwanted it  really raised my hackles.  What is wrong with children?  For that matter what is wrong with women who are unable to be friends with more than one person?  I think part of the reason this ticked me off so much is that is has happened to me, and I know how much it stings.  I've run across a few women who are unable to be friends with new people.  I don't get it.  I have more space in my heart for friends than I have time to make new ones. 
    Because of the moving around Brad and I do I have become really good at reaching out to make friends.  It doesn't mean it's easy, I jut put on my big girl panties and do it.  Being the new girl stinks.  Feeling like an outsider stinks.  Watching those feelings manifest in my tough as nails Tater and watching it knock the wind out of her sails really stinks.  I wish little girls and grown ones alike would realize that there is no cap on the number of friends you can have.  There is room to be friends with as many people as you want.  My daughter nor I are looking to steal your friends or replace any  old ones.  Thankfully most of the women I have met are wonderfully welcoming.  The more places I live and the more people I meet I'm learning to find the people with room enough for more friends in their lives. 
     Tate is now napping, after a little special attention from Mommy.  I'm going to have my afternoon cup of coffee and be thankful for each of my friends who had enough room for me and my family in their lives. 

Won't you be my neighbor?

        My pastor gave a lesson this past Sunday on the good Samaritan.  He was teaching us about trying to strive for greatness, not just being great at something.  His said the path to greatness is difficult, costly, and can be uncomfortable.  I really enjoyed the lesson, but my mind wandered in a different direction.  The verse Luke 10:29 "Who is my neighbor?"  Is what caught me. 
       Neighbors are a big worry/concern for me because we are professional movers.  Who will our neighbors be?  Will they be friendly?  Are they dangerous?  Can we trust them?  Do they have children?  Are they the kind of neighbors I could call on in an emergency?  All of this floods my head when we start looking for a house.  I need to quit worrying so much, not one time has God let me down in the neighbor department.  What I learned last Sunday was that my "neighbors" are not only those that live near me, they are the ones traveling down the same path as me.  Hopefully they are headed the same direction, and God will whisper in their ear "She needs help"  when I am battered, bruised and too weary to get back up. 
      I'm trying to learn to be a good neighbor.  It's hard, like Pastor Jerry said.  I'm still learning how to be a "mommy friend", but I have had some great teachers.  Here's what I have learned:  Offer a little more than you think you can do.  I underestimate myself, out of fear of failure or disappointment.  When you have an inkling that your friend needs a little help, do it don't wait.  You may just be the support that she needs to keep from coming undone.  I know this from personal experience.  My friend Becky taught me more than she'll ever know.  The best lesson I got from her was to not wait for an invitation to come help, just go help.  She busted in my house after my miscarriage, after I expressly told her not to.  She came and cleaned my house when I couldn't, took care of my son because I was too broken to try, and she wouldn't let me be swallowed under a grief bigger than I could bare.  People that is Greatness in action, that is a "good neighbor".
     My other "mommy friends" teach me things daily.  My neighbor Amy teaches me that she is part of my village that helps raise my children.  Our kids play together every day, invade each others houses, and love each other like family.   She is one of the busiest people I know but she always has time for my children.  She volunteers to take my children when I need help.  She is invaluable to me.  She is a neighbor I know I can call any time day or night.
      I think I prayed all of my friends into my life.  Each of you seem like I checked you off of a shopping list.  God knows my weakness and frailty, and sent strong women to help me through each stage of my life.  God knows what  my children need and has sent people who are not only my friends but my children's friends too.   I need to let go of the fear of my children not having good memories of a family filled youth.  Their family lies all over the country.  Their cousins are the kids they play with, they have so many Aunts and Uncles that they see all the time,  they even have local grandparents to come watch their baseball games.  The needs of my heart were each filled by my God.   Each of you is my neighbor.  
      The question of "Who is my neighbor?"  is becoming easier to answer.  My neighbor is my friend.  My neighbor makes my day more livable.  My neighbor is the friend that has seen me with no make up, kids running wild, and I'm hanging on by a thread.  My neighbor is the parent of the sweet girl that is Tate's best friend, who I love like a sister.   God please keep filling my world with Good Neighbors.  Please let me continue to be on the same path as these women.  Please continue to whisper to them how much I need them.  God please make use of me and direct me to who needs me.  Let me be encouraged to offer more than I think I can do.   I don't know that I'm ready to try for greatness, I'm starting by trying to be a great neighbor.

Small Shoulders



I was woken up this morning at four a.m. by Brad's alarm. He rolled over, re-set it , and happily went back to sleep for another forty-five minutes. I lay curled up next to him for forty five minutes plotting his murder, and it involved the cord of said alarm clock. Once we got up and I made breakfast and packed his lunch I sat in my chair and had coffee. I began to write a blog about my hatred of clock re-setters and snooze button pushers, but my laptop had a brain fart and it was erased. That just made me more angry. So next I did my coupon homework and grumbled to myself for a few more minutes. Turner walked out at six on the dot and it was time to start the day.




My bad mood didn't have a chance to get rolling this morning. The kids and I cleaned like crazy people for an hour and half. After that we all got dressed and ready for school, I had to take pictures of my boy. He is participating in Winn's Well Project today. He is carrying a gallon of water with him every where he goes today to bring awareness about how may people in the world don't have access to clean drinking water. People pledge money, and it is being sent to dig a well for a village in Africa. Turner has been so excited to participate.



Tate and I brought lunch to school today for Turner. I really just wanted to check in on him and encourage him. That gallon of water is about one fifth of his body weight and a lot for a kindergartner to tote around all day. When I saw him lugging his gallon down the hall my heart grew two sizes. He's one of only three in his class to attempt the water packing challenge.



I have been proud of my son many times. When he took his first step, when he spoke my name the first time, when he learned to drive his four wheeler, when he got his first hit in a baseball game, or made his first goal on the soccer field, all were proud moments. But today I felt a different kind of pride. Today is not only a physical feat, today Turner chose to do something from his heart to help others he doesn't know and will never meet. Turner "gets it". The world is bigger than just the small part he lives in. I am in love with a man in the making. I heard a quote yesterday that said "It is easier to build a boy than it is to mend a man". So true.



I hope so much for my son. I hope these little tests and lessons help build my son. I hope they make a mark in his heart and make him become a compassionate man. On his small shoulders there is much responsibility. I rely on him to be more grown up than he should have to be. I worry constantly that our moving will damage him. That repeatedly leaving friends and laying that heartache on him will close up his heart and harden my sweet boy. On days like today when the rest of the world can see his heart, packed around like a gallon jug, I have hope that he will remain sweet and compassionate.  Today, though it started off rocky, is a good day. Today I am in awe of a little man who carries a gallon of water and my heart everywhere he goes.

Where You are

   I thought You were in a building.  In my mind You only walk through amber colored sunlight that's filtered through stained glass windows.  You smell like long worn suits and Easter corsages. I tried leaving You in that building.  I turned my back on You and walked in to my twenties, not caring that You were waiting for me, always waiting for me.
   You were still waiting when my son came.  You let his tiny hands hold my heart and open my eyes.  You gave me a son so I could understand the Son You sacrificed for me.  You sneak up on me in places I don't think You frequent.  You are in the swirl of cream in my coffee.  You are in a dark high school auditorium.  You pulse in the drum beat and drift over the loud music played on Sunday mornings.  The more I seek You the more You show me Your many unexpected forms. 
     You are in my friends faces.  You are the phone call that gets me through the worst days.  You provide me with a new family in each city You set me in.  You are in the palm of my husband's hand when he holds mine.  You are also in my chaos. You are in my mind when it won't shut down and let me sleep.  You are in the last bit of energy that helps me finish my day.  You are everywhere I am, I am only now beginning to see that.  All the time I thought You were waiting for me to come back to You, You were already with me.   Thank You for letting me be where You are.