So this past weekend I had a rough time of it. The past few months have been rough I guess, on and off - understandably, right? But I was in the muck this weekend. My last post I didn't share on fb, I didn't want people really to see it, and yet I wanted to get it out. Writing always help me feel better I think.
Come to find out I was PMSing. Well. That didn't help. My cycle is not regular since the miscarriage. Which I don't appreciate.
In addition, I have been thinking a bit about the possibility - probability - of Satan's demons messing with me. I am losing a reader or two here, whatever. I only have five anyway.
A few days ago, Bailey was feeling really ill. It was a rough night - I prayed over her and layed with her for quite awhile, then went to bed myself. I woke constantly, and every time I did I would just say, "please, God..." and be thankful she was still sleeping, which meant she was comfortable. In the morning she was bright eyed and bushy tailed and said she felt great.
God did not have to answer my prayers for me to believe He exists, it wasn't something like that. But I think I must have been kind of holding my breath or something - I can't explain it. All I know is that if she awoke to the pain - or hadn't even have slept - that she experience the evening before, I would have been so discouraged. But all of her ailments were gone. AND, this week she found another 4 leaf clover. She barely looks for them and finds them all the time. Maybe fifteen she's found, and a few 5 leaf clovers. I'm not kidding! I take them to be a gift from God, because every time she finds one I feel like He's saying "I have her." I don't know why, I just do.
So anyway, later that day, as I was thanking Him again that she was well and healthy, I just was overcome with this feeling that I have been fighting the wrong one. I was praying saying I was so thankful, but still so hurt, so confused. And something in me - the Spirit I take it - just came over me and I started yelling - in my car - GET AWAY FROM ME YOU DEMONS!!! SATAN! In the name of Jesus, Holy Jesus, GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!!!!!!!!!
I started crying, and I told God I just want Him back, I want to trust Him, and believe in His goodness. I felt so much better.
Anyway, if you did read that last post, I'm in a better place.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
just being honest
Kevin's out. Girls are asleep. Ice cream has been eaten and I look at this computer screen through a fog of tears. Feeling very alone.
I don't for a second think "Why me?" about losing my baby. So many women go through that, and much, much worse. So much worse that I can't even wrap my brain around it, let alone my heart.
But this loss has awakened in me a lot of questions, and I don't like it. I loved having a faith that just was. I didn't know the answers and I didn't have to. Questions like, why do millions of children go hungry in this world when there is food to eat? It must be awful to be a child and literally starve to death. Whereas before I would think, people are not acting, it's not God it's people -- now I think, ok, I still think that, but how does God hear the cries of starving children and not answer? And yet a further argument ensues in my head - how would He answer, just throw a loaf of bread down to the child? But here's another one - how did God pick and choose who fell to their death on 9/11, and who was miraculously spared from getting on that ill-fated plane? Can you imagine being a family member of a victim they never even found, so there was only your imagination to wonder what happened to your precious loved one, and hearing someone be interviewed and say, "God had plans for me, He saved my life!" How does God decide which child he will spare and which He will bring home? Is it favor? Some people have an "in" with God and some don't? Is it past generational sin, and we are just fated to a destiny that was of our ancestors making? How does free will work, when we still pray to God to intervene? A drunk man can hit someone, that person dies, and it was free will of the drunk man that led to death. But another drunk hits someone, who doesn't die, but is in a coma. The family prays, begs. The person lives and God is given the glory. Miracle. How does it work? Is the second family favored? Did God just relent, and go, "Ok, you prayed well enough. Here you go, you're welcome." Or....Does the second person have a purpose left for this world but the first had fulfilled his? Even as I write this, I am thinking, yup that's the answer...but it's still not giving me peace. Please forgive my irreverence. I hate that I am asking these questions. But God knows my heart, so what's the point of hiding it?
Believe me, I am unhappy about this. I LOVE believing in God. Believing in His goodness and kindness. His love that is unworldly. A love that we can't begin to understand. And that is what I am hoping will give me peace - that His love is just so amazing we can NOT UNDERSTAND IT. Any part of it. But that knowledge is not giving me peace, at least not yet. I'm in pain. Not just because of my lost baby, or the questions of the world that I'll never have the answers to. I miss Him. I miss feeling protected and wanted. Loved. I feel abandoned and lost, and I don't know why. Maybe this is just something God's letting me go through to make me stronger.
Such blessings I have in my life. Everyday. I am blessed everyday. Please don't confuse my words. I know what a wonderful life I have. But this is my blog, and this is something I am working through, and I am just being honest.
This is what I want to have happen. God, are you listening? I want to believe. I want to believe so deeply that I truly do give praise in the storm. I am not giving praise in this storm, God, and I want to!! I want to know you have a purpose for me, for my family that is good and not death! I want to feel you beside me, holding me up, not watching me as I fall. I just don't understand Lord. And I know I will never know why you gave to take away...but I want to feel peace in not knowing. Please help me.
I don't for a second think "Why me?" about losing my baby. So many women go through that, and much, much worse. So much worse that I can't even wrap my brain around it, let alone my heart.
But this loss has awakened in me a lot of questions, and I don't like it. I loved having a faith that just was. I didn't know the answers and I didn't have to. Questions like, why do millions of children go hungry in this world when there is food to eat? It must be awful to be a child and literally starve to death. Whereas before I would think, people are not acting, it's not God it's people -- now I think, ok, I still think that, but how does God hear the cries of starving children and not answer? And yet a further argument ensues in my head - how would He answer, just throw a loaf of bread down to the child? But here's another one - how did God pick and choose who fell to their death on 9/11, and who was miraculously spared from getting on that ill-fated plane? Can you imagine being a family member of a victim they never even found, so there was only your imagination to wonder what happened to your precious loved one, and hearing someone be interviewed and say, "God had plans for me, He saved my life!" How does God decide which child he will spare and which He will bring home? Is it favor? Some people have an "in" with God and some don't? Is it past generational sin, and we are just fated to a destiny that was of our ancestors making? How does free will work, when we still pray to God to intervene? A drunk man can hit someone, that person dies, and it was free will of the drunk man that led to death. But another drunk hits someone, who doesn't die, but is in a coma. The family prays, begs. The person lives and God is given the glory. Miracle. How does it work? Is the second family favored? Did God just relent, and go, "Ok, you prayed well enough. Here you go, you're welcome." Or....Does the second person have a purpose left for this world but the first had fulfilled his? Even as I write this, I am thinking, yup that's the answer...but it's still not giving me peace. Please forgive my irreverence. I hate that I am asking these questions. But God knows my heart, so what's the point of hiding it?
Believe me, I am unhappy about this. I LOVE believing in God. Believing in His goodness and kindness. His love that is unworldly. A love that we can't begin to understand. And that is what I am hoping will give me peace - that His love is just so amazing we can NOT UNDERSTAND IT. Any part of it. But that knowledge is not giving me peace, at least not yet. I'm in pain. Not just because of my lost baby, or the questions of the world that I'll never have the answers to. I miss Him. I miss feeling protected and wanted. Loved. I feel abandoned and lost, and I don't know why. Maybe this is just something God's letting me go through to make me stronger.
Such blessings I have in my life. Everyday. I am blessed everyday. Please don't confuse my words. I know what a wonderful life I have. But this is my blog, and this is something I am working through, and I am just being honest.
This is what I want to have happen. God, are you listening? I want to believe. I want to believe so deeply that I truly do give praise in the storm. I am not giving praise in this storm, God, and I want to!! I want to know you have a purpose for me, for my family that is good and not death! I want to feel you beside me, holding me up, not watching me as I fall. I just don't understand Lord. And I know I will never know why you gave to take away...but I want to feel peace in not knowing. Please help me.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
what married people with kids fight about
Most married people with kids, even within wonderful, loving marriages, fight about stuff they never would have dreamed pre-marriage/kids.
We had such a fight last night.
Now, within the confines of this blog - like, maybe Kevin will read it so I shouldn't share everything - some elements of the fight can't be shared. Because it would make him look bad. Not me, him.
Last night I got home from work and the kids were bathed and ready for bed. I went into the bathroom and noticed that there were pieces of wet toilet paper sticking out of the tub drain and there was standing water. So smart mom that I am realized 2 things - a girl had, for whatever reason, stuffed tp in the tub drain, and now we had a clog.
I tend to panic with home fix-it type of situations. It doesn't matter if it's a major problem or a minor one, because chances are, my husband and I won't have a clue how to fix it. We are NOT fix-it people, we are "quick! Who do we know that knows stuff?!" people. I panicked when my electric garage door wouldn't operate (I did realize, without hiring someone, that it just needed plugged in - minor). I panicked when water flooded from the bathroom to our bedroom, dripping through the ceiling to downstairs (over $4000 later we had a redone bath - major). So basically, in my mind, I immediately go to the what's-the-worst-that-can-happen and in this instance with the tp clogging the drain, I picture my back yard being dug up, trees having to come out and thousands of dollars (that we don't have) later being told, "Charmin's not good for your septic system, ma'am. And toilet papers not supposed to go in the tub."
So as I start my panic, I realize Kevin's remaining calm and cavalier. He had said he didn't know why there was tp in the tub but is that true?! Why is he so calm when we may have to have a plumber rip through our pipes and yard?! I may have, under my breath but loud enough for him to hear (a common married people with kids way of arguing) stated that I wished I had been home and not working so this wouldn't have happened. That's when the floodgates opened. It wasn't pretty. Neighbors may have heard.
Bailey let me know when there was a break in our yelling that the reason why there was tp in there (previously girls had claimed innocence) was that in the tub she noticed Tate had a "rashy J." So she gave Taylor toilet paper to wipe the rash off. In the tub.
I may have muttered again (or yelled, I can't remember) that I wished I had been in the bathroom while they took their bath so I would've seen it, and where was Kevin? He reminded me, not quietly, that I haven't watched them in the tub for quite awhile either. Maybe a year or two. (in my defense before you picture my kids drowning - remember they're 6 and 8, they swim laps underwater and jump off the high-dive, and I know they stay alive while bathing because I hear Ariel singing to Barbie.)
I took a break outside and when I came in, tucked in the girls and apologized for Mom and Dad yelling. They were fine and Taylor promised she'd wipe out of water from now on. Kevin tried to remedy the clog over the course of an hour with a bottle of Drano and pots of boiling water. It was deemed fixed. We apologized and got over it.
Taking a shower later that night, I deemed the clog not fixed, as water pooled at my feet. I pictured the plumber again, and the bill I'd have to charge to pay. I bent over, removed the drain, and pulled up a few gobs of wet tp. The water magically flowed down the drain!!!!
I tried to not rub it in later when I told Kevin the clog was really fixed.
We had such a fight last night.
Now, within the confines of this blog - like, maybe Kevin will read it so I shouldn't share everything - some elements of the fight can't be shared. Because it would make him look bad. Not me, him.
Last night I got home from work and the kids were bathed and ready for bed. I went into the bathroom and noticed that there were pieces of wet toilet paper sticking out of the tub drain and there was standing water. So smart mom that I am realized 2 things - a girl had, for whatever reason, stuffed tp in the tub drain, and now we had a clog.
I tend to panic with home fix-it type of situations. It doesn't matter if it's a major problem or a minor one, because chances are, my husband and I won't have a clue how to fix it. We are NOT fix-it people, we are "quick! Who do we know that knows stuff?!" people. I panicked when my electric garage door wouldn't operate (I did realize, without hiring someone, that it just needed plugged in - minor). I panicked when water flooded from the bathroom to our bedroom, dripping through the ceiling to downstairs (over $4000 later we had a redone bath - major). So basically, in my mind, I immediately go to the what's-the-worst-that-can-happen and in this instance with the tp clogging the drain, I picture my back yard being dug up, trees having to come out and thousands of dollars (that we don't have) later being told, "Charmin's not good for your septic system, ma'am. And toilet papers not supposed to go in the tub."
So as I start my panic, I realize Kevin's remaining calm and cavalier. He had said he didn't know why there was tp in the tub but is that true?! Why is he so calm when we may have to have a plumber rip through our pipes and yard?! I may have, under my breath but loud enough for him to hear (a common married people with kids way of arguing) stated that I wished I had been home and not working so this wouldn't have happened. That's when the floodgates opened. It wasn't pretty. Neighbors may have heard.
Bailey let me know when there was a break in our yelling that the reason why there was tp in there (previously girls had claimed innocence) was that in the tub she noticed Tate had a "rashy J." So she gave Taylor toilet paper to wipe the rash off. In the tub.
I may have muttered again (or yelled, I can't remember) that I wished I had been in the bathroom while they took their bath so I would've seen it, and where was Kevin? He reminded me, not quietly, that I haven't watched them in the tub for quite awhile either. Maybe a year or two. (in my defense before you picture my kids drowning - remember they're 6 and 8, they swim laps underwater and jump off the high-dive, and I know they stay alive while bathing because I hear Ariel singing to Barbie.)
I took a break outside and when I came in, tucked in the girls and apologized for Mom and Dad yelling. They were fine and Taylor promised she'd wipe out of water from now on. Kevin tried to remedy the clog over the course of an hour with a bottle of Drano and pots of boiling water. It was deemed fixed. We apologized and got over it.
Taking a shower later that night, I deemed the clog not fixed, as water pooled at my feet. I pictured the plumber again, and the bill I'd have to charge to pay. I bent over, removed the drain, and pulled up a few gobs of wet tp. The water magically flowed down the drain!!!!
I tried to not rub it in later when I told Kevin the clog was really fixed.
 |
| NOTE - Not my actual tub. I know this because this tub looks expensive and luxurious. Mine is a basic Home Depot model. Also, this room looks spacious, and our one main bath is not. This pic was taken from the Rural Glamour website, some lucky chic gets her bubbles and magazine time here. I get mine with 2 little girls sitting on the toilet while I bathe, asking me questions like "Mommy, when you lay back why does your tummy stick out of the bubbles?" "Because, dear one, God made Mommy with a nice size tummy and if I filled the tub with enough water to cover it, the water would go through the over-flow drain. And Mommy's scared of plumbers so she's careful of the over-flow drain. Now be a lovey and get a towel for your Barbie that's gotten lodged between my butt cheeks. Stop staring. Thanks for taking a dump in here, 2 inches from my face, while I was having my "quiet" time. And refill my glass with some of Mommy's special juice." JK on that last part :) I get my juice myself. |
Saturday, June 2, 2012
hoping for hope
I have been in a weird place. There are moments I have such joy, and moments I have such pain. I'm not depressed - I'm fully functional and really, I do have happiness in my life. But I am weary. I find so many of my commitments draining. I feel very far from God, which makes me deeply sad. And looking for Him adds to my weariness. And I have realized that so much of my problem is rooted in this - I am missing hope. I have joy, I have love - my husband, girls, family and friends add such true life. I am not hope-less, but a foundation of hope is not where it was. And I want it back.
As I write, I am in Ocean City taking the night "off." My mom is at a wedding so I came down with her to keep her company in the room, which is beautiful. Right on the beach, right in the middle of the Jersey Shore life. Wonderful weather and being here feels good. But being alone forces me to think, which feels weird. I don't like to think by myself too much these days, because I cry easily and I am sick of crying. I'm a crier and so I am used to tears, but a heartsick kind of crying is different, and it feels awful. It feels awful because there's no resolution to the heartache, I just miss my baby terribly and there's nothing I can do about it.
I am grateful for all I have. I can't say it enough. And I am grateful for this time with my mom, whom I adore. You should see her, all dressed up in a cute orange dress with cute orange strappy shoes. She's awesome. But still, even in my gratitude, even in my moments of joy that I have every day with people that I love so much, I am weary and missing hope.
So I am hoping for hope. Does that make any sense?
As I write, I am in Ocean City taking the night "off." My mom is at a wedding so I came down with her to keep her company in the room, which is beautiful. Right on the beach, right in the middle of the Jersey Shore life. Wonderful weather and being here feels good. But being alone forces me to think, which feels weird. I don't like to think by myself too much these days, because I cry easily and I am sick of crying. I'm a crier and so I am used to tears, but a heartsick kind of crying is different, and it feels awful. It feels awful because there's no resolution to the heartache, I just miss my baby terribly and there's nothing I can do about it.
I am grateful for all I have. I can't say it enough. And I am grateful for this time with my mom, whom I adore. You should see her, all dressed up in a cute orange dress with cute orange strappy shoes. She's awesome. But still, even in my gratitude, even in my moments of joy that I have every day with people that I love so much, I am weary and missing hope.
So I am hoping for hope. Does that make any sense?
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
a letter to my MOPS girls
Dear MOPS friends -
As I write this, I am a few hundred miles away from you all, as you dig into egg casseroles and sip hot coffee. I am missing being with you there terribly - the 'Tea and Testimony' meeting is by far my favorite of the year. What a treat that our amazing Mentor Moms lavish love upon us like that. Please enjoy, don't take it for granted.
I have been a part of MOPS for six years. In 2006 I had a two year old and an infant, when I saw listed in HOPE's Sunday morning bulletin, "Coming Soon - Mothers of Preschoolers will be meeting here!" I quickly shoved the bulletin in my tired husband's face, "This!! This is what I was talking about, a group! This!!!!" He nodded, not knowing the open door that invitation would bring. Neither did I. I had hoped I'd make a few friends, women in the same stage of life as I was, and perhaps we could even share a few playdates. Little did I know what MOPS would really end up meaning to me.
In 2006 I was 26 years old. My close friends did not yet have kids. We had just started attending HOPE in March, and I thought the women were friendly but I did not yet have friends. Wanting to get involved and do something other than change the 50th diaper of the day, I asked Heather Mandala if there was some kind of hospitality group at church, because I knew if nothing else, I could make a meal now and then or send a card. She had just started the planning of MOPS and so she "steered" me in that direction, and that is how I became a part of this MOPS group original steering team.
And so began my love affair with MOPS. Because I joined MOPS - and really, mostly because I was on steering - I developed wonderful, strong friendships. Over the years I have enjoyed countless playdates, park outings, and beach days. I was in a cooking club with a few MOPS friends for awhile, and although they have both moved away, I still make the clam chowder recipe we cooked one day, as our little ones played at our feet. Every time I make it I think of those mornings we had together. I still have a picture of my fridge from 2007, when a group of us went to Cape May and wore hats and had tea outside in a beautiful garden. MOPS meetings were something I looked forward to so much. Hot breakfast, sitting with women talking, learning something from a Mentor Mom or a speaker. Feeling understood, validated and encouraged. But truly, those few hours were only the beginning to what MOPS really offered me.
Friends are not to be taken lightly. The friends I have made while in MOPS are now some of the best friends I have. These friends screamed in joy as I shared with them that we were expecting a surprise baby, just weeks ago. They were the same friends who doubled over in grief for me when I then had to tell them that precious gift had been taken back. They were the ones who stocked my fridge with groceries, made meals, sent care packages, cards and flowers. They cried with me, prayed when I couldn't, and actually chased me down in the parking lot because they didn't want me to leave.
Girls, I pray you never have to go through what I just did. Really, what I am still going through. But odds are, you'll go through something during these preschool years. Don't you want some amazing friends to fall back upon? And when life is good - albeit full of sleepless nights, poopy diapers and temper tantrums - don't you want friends who really get you? Look around you. You might not know her yet, but you have a good friend in this room. The only way you'll find her is to put yourself out there.
When I realized I wouldn't be back yet from our family vacation to attend this year's last MOPS meeting, I was devastated. I wanted to tell you all how special I think this group is, and I wanted to thank Lindsey and the rest of the steering team for all of their amazing work this past year. But perhaps my emotions would have overcome me. After all, I think every time I have spoken in front of the group, except maybe when I talked about coupons, I cried! And I wouldn't have wanted my message to be watered down with tears -- and my message to you all is this - LOVE each other. Be there for one another. Please, trust me, it is a gift you give yourself when you love someone else. Be selfless and do things like pick up the Panera bread. Invite a mom you don't know yet over for a playdate. Take a chance and go to that MOPS outing, even if you don't know many moms yet. Don't just come to MOPS for the biweekly meetings - take advantage of the opportunity to make friends that will feel like sisters. It won't happen overnight. But it will, if you let it. And then those friendships will take you well beyond your MOPS years. Because even though it doesn't seem it, this time will go by. Some days drag - hours even! - but all of a sudden you realize you're peeing by yourself and there's not a pacifier, diaper or bottle to be seen in the whole house. You might be looking forward to that and you won't miss it maybe, but in the meantime, let MOPS make these years more enjoyable, filled with friends that are in the same boat and along for the ride.
My ride was certainly better because of all of you. And I'm taking you with me as I go towards the next leg of my trip. Thank you dear friends, for all you have given to me and my entire family these past 6 years. You don't know what this time has meant to me. Much love.
Yours,
Brynn
As I write this, I am a few hundred miles away from you all, as you dig into egg casseroles and sip hot coffee. I am missing being with you there terribly - the 'Tea and Testimony' meeting is by far my favorite of the year. What a treat that our amazing Mentor Moms lavish love upon us like that. Please enjoy, don't take it for granted.
I have been a part of MOPS for six years. In 2006 I had a two year old and an infant, when I saw listed in HOPE's Sunday morning bulletin, "Coming Soon - Mothers of Preschoolers will be meeting here!" I quickly shoved the bulletin in my tired husband's face, "This!! This is what I was talking about, a group! This!!!!" He nodded, not knowing the open door that invitation would bring. Neither did I. I had hoped I'd make a few friends, women in the same stage of life as I was, and perhaps we could even share a few playdates. Little did I know what MOPS would really end up meaning to me.
In 2006 I was 26 years old. My close friends did not yet have kids. We had just started attending HOPE in March, and I thought the women were friendly but I did not yet have friends. Wanting to get involved and do something other than change the 50th diaper of the day, I asked Heather Mandala if there was some kind of hospitality group at church, because I knew if nothing else, I could make a meal now and then or send a card. She had just started the planning of MOPS and so she "steered" me in that direction, and that is how I became a part of this MOPS group original steering team.
And so began my love affair with MOPS. Because I joined MOPS - and really, mostly because I was on steering - I developed wonderful, strong friendships. Over the years I have enjoyed countless playdates, park outings, and beach days. I was in a cooking club with a few MOPS friends for awhile, and although they have both moved away, I still make the clam chowder recipe we cooked one day, as our little ones played at our feet. Every time I make it I think of those mornings we had together. I still have a picture of my fridge from 2007, when a group of us went to Cape May and wore hats and had tea outside in a beautiful garden. MOPS meetings were something I looked forward to so much. Hot breakfast, sitting with women talking, learning something from a Mentor Mom or a speaker. Feeling understood, validated and encouraged. But truly, those few hours were only the beginning to what MOPS really offered me.
Friends are not to be taken lightly. The friends I have made while in MOPS are now some of the best friends I have. These friends screamed in joy as I shared with them that we were expecting a surprise baby, just weeks ago. They were the same friends who doubled over in grief for me when I then had to tell them that precious gift had been taken back. They were the ones who stocked my fridge with groceries, made meals, sent care packages, cards and flowers. They cried with me, prayed when I couldn't, and actually chased me down in the parking lot because they didn't want me to leave.
Girls, I pray you never have to go through what I just did. Really, what I am still going through. But odds are, you'll go through something during these preschool years. Don't you want some amazing friends to fall back upon? And when life is good - albeit full of sleepless nights, poopy diapers and temper tantrums - don't you want friends who really get you? Look around you. You might not know her yet, but you have a good friend in this room. The only way you'll find her is to put yourself out there.
When I realized I wouldn't be back yet from our family vacation to attend this year's last MOPS meeting, I was devastated. I wanted to tell you all how special I think this group is, and I wanted to thank Lindsey and the rest of the steering team for all of their amazing work this past year. But perhaps my emotions would have overcome me. After all, I think every time I have spoken in front of the group, except maybe when I talked about coupons, I cried! And I wouldn't have wanted my message to be watered down with tears -- and my message to you all is this - LOVE each other. Be there for one another. Please, trust me, it is a gift you give yourself when you love someone else. Be selfless and do things like pick up the Panera bread. Invite a mom you don't know yet over for a playdate. Take a chance and go to that MOPS outing, even if you don't know many moms yet. Don't just come to MOPS for the biweekly meetings - take advantage of the opportunity to make friends that will feel like sisters. It won't happen overnight. But it will, if you let it. And then those friendships will take you well beyond your MOPS years. Because even though it doesn't seem it, this time will go by. Some days drag - hours even! - but all of a sudden you realize you're peeing by yourself and there's not a pacifier, diaper or bottle to be seen in the whole house. You might be looking forward to that and you won't miss it maybe, but in the meantime, let MOPS make these years more enjoyable, filled with friends that are in the same boat and along for the ride.
My ride was certainly better because of all of you. And I'm taking you with me as I go towards the next leg of my trip. Thank you dear friends, for all you have given to me and my entire family these past 6 years. You don't know what this time has meant to me. Much love.
Yours,
Brynn
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
special
Just read over Taylor's IEP. Part of it was tough, reading that she is below level still in some areas. I was shocked to read her IQ was in the normal range because I think she is gifted, of course. Actually, really I do. She just didn't feel like taking whatever test they gave her.
Before having children, I really didn't think about having a child that would need special services. And I never thought I'd read the word "special" so many times in my life. But here I am, with one child who has Cystic Fibrosis, and another diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Sensory Disorder. I feel that both of them have such victory over their diagnoses, as they are both healthy and thriving. Some days are tough, but really, they are great.
So what is special, anyway. I am too lazy to x out of my blog to even look up the definition, but it means something like "out of the ordinary," "not common" or "above average." Right?
Both my girls ARE special. They are amazing. Sure they can be brats, and perfectly normal in any kid sense. But I really think they are out of the ordinary and even though I'm biased, I really think they are!
Bailey has such a deep empathy for people, and an understanding that is beyond her years. She would do anything to make someone she loves feel her love. She is sentimental to a fault, and I love it about her. She is kind, and soft, and snuggly, and already, a servant of God. She has such a heart for others, that I will confess I have already prayed that God not instill in her a heart for missionary work, because I can't bear the thought of ever being parted from her.
Taylor is laughter. Her laugh IS my favorite sound in the whole wide world. She is joy, and life, and wonder. She has developed such a love for her family, and her loyalty runs deep and strong. She loves to be touched and she lets me hang on to her babyhood. She loves her family more than anything, and to her, Jesus is an extension of our family. She is trusting, even though it doesn't come naturally. She is brave and she is strong.
Pretty special, if you ask me.
Before having children, I really didn't think about having a child that would need special services. And I never thought I'd read the word "special" so many times in my life. But here I am, with one child who has Cystic Fibrosis, and another diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Sensory Disorder. I feel that both of them have such victory over their diagnoses, as they are both healthy and thriving. Some days are tough, but really, they are great.
So what is special, anyway. I am too lazy to x out of my blog to even look up the definition, but it means something like "out of the ordinary," "not common" or "above average." Right?
Both my girls ARE special. They are amazing. Sure they can be brats, and perfectly normal in any kid sense. But I really think they are out of the ordinary and even though I'm biased, I really think they are!
Bailey has such a deep empathy for people, and an understanding that is beyond her years. She would do anything to make someone she loves feel her love. She is sentimental to a fault, and I love it about her. She is kind, and soft, and snuggly, and already, a servant of God. She has such a heart for others, that I will confess I have already prayed that God not instill in her a heart for missionary work, because I can't bear the thought of ever being parted from her.
Taylor is laughter. Her laugh IS my favorite sound in the whole wide world. She is joy, and life, and wonder. She has developed such a love for her family, and her loyalty runs deep and strong. She loves to be touched and she lets me hang on to her babyhood. She loves her family more than anything, and to her, Jesus is an extension of our family. She is trusting, even though it doesn't come naturally. She is brave and she is strong.
Pretty special, if you ask me.
Monday, May 21, 2012
what to do when you're seeing red
So I have been stewing over something that will have absolutely no resolution whatsoever. I can't hash it out here on the blog (although I wish I could! Oh the stories!!) but let's just say I have been pissed off. True, it's not always hard to do, but I usually get over whatever pissings come my way. But because I'm not a keep-it-inside person, I'm a vent-until-I-pass-out kind of chick, I am finding this situation really difficult because there's NOTHING I can do. I can't talk about it, I can't reach some kind of compromise with this person, I can't do anything.
Ugh I wish I could just forget about it and not let anything bother me. Not get mad, hurt, bitter. I wish I could just not care.
So I think the only thing to do in this situation is go out with my girlfriends, get a good drink - or two - and vent away. They will laugh, they will look at me with sympathy, they will say I deserve better. That's what girlfriends do - once in awhile they will tell you you're wrong, but most of the time they will listen, empathize and totally side with you. And because I have really great girlfriends that are strong Christian women, they will also pray for me when I don't have it in me to pray myself.
Can't wait to go out.
Ugh I wish I could just forget about it and not let anything bother me. Not get mad, hurt, bitter. I wish I could just not care.
So I think the only thing to do in this situation is go out with my girlfriends, get a good drink - or two - and vent away. They will laugh, they will look at me with sympathy, they will say I deserve better. That's what girlfriends do - once in awhile they will tell you you're wrong, but most of the time they will listen, empathize and totally side with you. And because I have really great girlfriends that are strong Christian women, they will also pray for me when I don't have it in me to pray myself.
Can't wait to go out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)