The Man in the Mirror

Braeden has this teenage boy thing he does every time he's in the bathroom - he stops and admires himself in the mirror. His self-admiration is usually accompanied by a self-conversation.

The other day as he was getting in the shower, I overheard him chatting. Like any self-respecting mother, I decided to pause outside the door and eavesdrop for just a moment. I heard him telling his mirror self, "You are just like Justin Bieber! You are Justin Bieber!"

I chuckled and told myself I had to remember that one.

After the shower, Braeden approached me with a question. I didn't have an answer for him, so I sent him to his Dad. (I probably could've answered, but I knew it would be more fun if Pat and I could chat and giggle about it later.)

"Dad," Braeden said, "I need to ask you something."

"What's up, Buddy?"

"I need some tips."

"Huh? Tips? What do you mean?"

"Tips. About girls. How do you get girls to like you? You know, like Justin Bieber."

I realize that Braeden may not appreciate me sharing this (and no, I didn't ask his permission). But seriously, how stinkin' cute is that?! I simply must keep this story on hand for future blackmail humiliation use!

Boys and their Toys

My man was raised on a farm. He had all the boy trappings of farm life, including the weaponry. One of Pat's favorite memories of his boyhood is when he received his first .22 as a birthday gift. (He thinks it was his seventh birthday!)

Over the previous few years, he had been collecting G.I. Joe figurines. Every Christmas and birthday, every special treat, every penny directed his way went toward those little army guys. That summer, when Pat got his .22, he hatched a plan only a boy would come up with.

Painstakingly, over the course of many hours, Pat set up his G.I. Joe guys in fighting formation. Once he was finally convinced that everything was just right, he set up... Ready, aim, fire! That .22 blew those figurines to bits! (I don't believe his parents agreed to buy him another toy for the rest of his life.)

Early on in our relationship, I established a firm "no gun" rule. Looking back, I'm not certain what my rationale was besides the fact that guns scared me. I was convinced that, if we allowed our children to play with water guns, they would become violent adults and possibly mass murderers. (Blame it on the psychology degree.)

Have you ever read Wild at Heart: Discovering the Secret of a Man's Soul? It's a book for men, but every woman should read it. Reading that book helped me understand my husband and sons - the way God designed them to be - in a way I never had. I learned that I (and society in general) had been so focused on what good, Christian men "ought to" be like that I hadn't bothered to ask who God created them to be. Men were created to be conquerors, heroes, and adventurers - men in God's own image.

As an early Father's Day/ birthday gift for my husband, I sent him with a debit card attached to a full account (on pay day) and told him to buy that gun he'd always wanted but was never 'allowed' to have. When he arrived home after making his purchase, the man-child sat on the couch next to me admiring his rifle (Or is it a shotgun? Or is that the same?). Ch-chick. Ch-chick. Ch-chick. I've never seen such a grin on his face.

This weekend, after ten whole days of endless waiting, my man headed out with some buddies and their sons for a day of shooting at stuff. The big boys killed hundreds of clay pigeons, while the younger boys fired at a variety of pop bottles and other home-made targets.

My baby was among those younger boys. And instead of being terrified, worried, and (s)motherly as I would have been before reading Wild at Heart, I was excited for Braeden (13) and the adventure he was embarking on.

Look at my firstborn baby! He's growing up so fast...

Who knew you could shoot one-handed?

Taking aim...

Trying out the 9 mm.

Okay, true confession... My mother heart did skip a beat when I
saw the kick-back from this gun. Let's stick to the .22, okay?

Braeden's Birthday Blessing

A birthday blessing for you, my eldest son, my teenager.

Braeden, I pray that out of God's glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your heart through faith.

And I pray that you, Braeden, will be rooted and established in love, that you may have power, together with all the believers, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ is for you. And to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all you ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in your life, Braeden, and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

~ Ephesians 3:14-20



The Numbers Game

Important numbers in my life these days...

0. The number of Christmas gifts I have yet to buy.

1. The number of children still asleep at 8:15am.

2. The number of hours I spent at the clinic last night with Megan (7), awaiting an official diagnosis of what we already knew - another ear infection.

3. The number of loads of laundry I need to do today.

4. The number of performances (including dress rehearsal) we did of the Christmas story at church this weekend. Megan was an angel, Shea (5) played the handbells, and I was one of the many hands on deck.

5. The number of sleeps until Christmas morning.
.....

10. The number of times the children have asked about going out and having fun. Some of their favourite requests are: Chuck E. Cheese, Kidz Quarterz (indoor climbing centre), the movie theatre, and swimming.

12. The number of people who will be in our home overnight for Christmas Eve and here for turkey dinner.

14. The number of hours Braeden (12) hopes to spend playing video games today.

16. The number of times Kai (3) has asked if Santa has brought him a monster truck yet.

18. The number of books Abbey (8) intends to read over Christmas vacation.

20. The estimated number of gifts I have yet to wrap.

Thanks for the idea, Bobbie! :)

All Dressed Up

Only a month later, I figured it was time to post a few pictures of the kids in costume for Halloween.

Who wouldn't give these kids candy?!

Shea, aka Sharpay (High School Musical)

Meg, aka Rock Star Girl

Abbey, aka Angel



Kai, aka Bumblebee (Transformers)

Braeden - "I'm too old to trick or treat!" and "Don't take my picture!" (Thankfully, he did let us get him in his Air Cadet uniform.)



Attention!

Today is the Remembrance Day ceremony at Braeden's school (because next week is fall break). He received special permission from his CO (Commanding Officer) to wear his Air Cadets uniform to school for the ceremony. (One day I'll have to tell you how the whole Air Cadets idea came about and God's hand in it all. You'll probably have to remind me.)

Here is my young man in his dress uniform.

ATTENTION!

AT EASE!

STAND EASY!

My mother's heart can barely handle all the pride and joy I feel when I admire my oldest child in his uniform. He's growing up. And he looks darn handsome doing it!

This will make you feel better about yourself, I promise

First, if you're wondering where the next post in the Good Fruit series is, join the club! God has been showing me so much about love that I can't form a coherent thought on it yet. I'm praying that He and I can get it all worked out for tomorrow. Or maybe Monday...

Do you ever do something that makes you feel like the worst _______ (fill in the blank - mom, wife, friend, employee, ministry leader) in the world? If so, my Tuesday motherhood experience likely happened for the sole purpose of  helping you feel better about yourself.

Tuesday was a special day for the girls - their first dance class of the season! The after-school plan was quite elaborate, but I was pretty impressed with my ability to sort out the scheduling details.

I began the day by informing Abbey (8) that she could not join the choir because Tuesday choir practice would overlap with dance classes. And there was no way I could be at Shea's (5) dance class AND be picking Abbey up from the school at the exact same time. The reason I had to deliver this news at 7am on Tuesday - because I had already told her she could join choir and signed the permission slip!

I felt well-prepared for the after-school insanity. We left the house at 3pm (Shea, Kai  (3) and I). Leaving half an hour early turned out to be a very good move! Power was out in most of the town, traffic lights were not working, and it was the after-school hour. Needless to say, what should be a 10-minute drive took 22. But I arrived just in time to meet Abbey and Megan (7) at the local high school, where they transfer buses.

I was cheerful and smiling inside. After all, the sun was shining (finally!) and I had done it! I got them to dance class on time! Yes! (insert fist pump)

We sent Shea into her class and the rest of us hung out in the lobby. I mentally patted myself on the back for having the foresight to pack snacks, drinks, coloring supplies, and cars. My feet propped comfortably on a chair, I cracked the binding of a new book, thrilled at the prospect of whiling away the next 45 minutes in relative peace.

I don't exactly recall how it came up, but we were talking about Braeden (12) when it hit me - I forgot to leave a note at home to let him know where we were! First, I called home. Of course he won't answer, the power is out! Duh! Cordless phones don't work in power outages. Oh wait...He wouldn't be able to answer the phone regardless, because he can't get in the house - every single door is locked up tight!

(In the past, I had been leaving one door unlocked for those rare instances when Braeden's bus arrives and I'm not yet home. Yes, this decision was based in experience, thankyouverymuch. But last week, it seems I accidentally left the truck unlocked one night, and our GPS, portable DVD player, and B's PSP were all stolen. Since then, I have felt it wise to lock up all the time.)

I looked at my watch, 4:10pm. Shea's dance was scheduled to end in 20 min and then Abbey and Meg's class would begin. Braeden was scheduled to be dropped off at 3:45pm! I moved into not-quite-yet-frantic auto pilot.

"Girls," I looked at A & M, "Stay here. Be good. When Shea is done, bring her into your class with you. I'll be back." I looked to the small source of big noise, Mister Kai, and called to him, "Hurry up! Come with Mommy! We need to drive home quickly to get Braeden!" The drive home took 18 minutes, because they finally had police at the intersections directing traffic.

I whipped into the driveway and burst into the house calling Braeden's name! Of course he's not answering; he's not Caspar the Ghost and can't float through walls! Sheesh!

Kai stayed firmly trapped in his car seat screaming loud and proud his desire to be set free.

Our (brand new, just moved in last week) next door neighbor had not seen him, but she was kind enough to offer her home as a place of refuge for my son in the event of future negligence on my part. The sitter who lives down the street (and, incidentally, her mother - who is also Megan's teacher) also had not seen him.

Kai screamed on. At least I know where he is!

Breathe, Tyler, breathe. Think, think, think! I called the bus driver's home. No answer. I called the busing office - she'd get back to me. Two agonizing minutes later, as I paced the driveway around the truck and periodically said, "That's enough, Malakai. You have to stay in your seat." she called. The driver had taken B back on the bus when they discovered the locked door and couldn't reach me on the phone. She had one more child to drop off and would return with my son. Oh thank-you, Jesus!

As relief washed over me and the adrenaline slowed, it occurred to me that I had just left three little girls to their own devices at dance lessons. Another phone call as I confessed my complete incompetence to yet another person. Yes, they were safely in the studio.

After dropping B off, his bus driver very politely asked for my cell phone number (who can blame her?!), and I filled her in on the next door neighbor contingency plan. I did remember to let B know where we were going before Kai and I headed back to dance.

We arrived and retrieved Shea from the class, returning to our abandoned snack and coloring table. At 5:20, an influx of parents came through the door and headed down the hallway to wait for their dancing darlings. I opted to keep "loud and proud" out in the lobby for the sanity of every parental unit in the building. Ten minutes later two girls came running out.

Finally, we can just go home. What a day!

But wait, why do the girls look so unimpressed? They informed me, loudly and in front of numerous departing families, that parents were supposed to come in and watch at the end. Where was I???? I made humble apology and begged everyone to just get in the truck. The drive home took 6 minutes. Thank-you Lord that the power is back on. Oh darn, my dinner was in the oven on a timer. What am I going to serve now? Well, at least the TV would be working; that will keep everyone busy for a few minutes. I wonder what B did at home with no power? He was probably bored out of his mind, and couldn't even phone me to tell me! Nice job, Tyler. Mother of the year. Oh yes you are!

Please feel free to store this little gem in your memory banks and withdraw it at those precious moments when you feel the flames of humiliation climbing the back of your neck due to some incident of incompetence. Remember that while you are having a bad moment, at least you're not having a bad day in front of a dozen eye witnesses. Then you can smile and feel better about yourself at my expense. Yes, I am at your service.

Oh, did I mention that, as it turns out, dance lessons actually started last week?!

Seven Steps to Stop Anger in its Tracks (revisited)

This is a special re-post (with a few revisions) for my friends at Heart to Heart, with whom I shared this very story yesterday... (The rest of you are, of course, welcome to read it again!)

Thank-you for stopping by. I pray that my story, at the very least, has shown you that you are not alone! This mothering thing can be so hard, and it's okay to admit that we aren't perfect.

Today, you will find that I've added some tips for moms dealing with anger. If you stop by again tomorrow, I'll have some tips for others (that is, for those whose spouse or friend or relative struggles with anger). I do hope that you'll come back!

If you'd like to share your thoughts, you can leave a comment at the end of this post. (Please do! You have no idea how much I love your comments! They are my encouragement and source of inspiration.) To leave a comment, simply click on the word "comments" at the end of the post. Then follow the instructions in the pop-up window. If you don't have a google account, or would rather not leave your name, just click "anonymous."


The other morning I was supervising Braeden (12) as he went through his morning routine. Because of his cerebral palsy, Braeden's motor control isn't always the greatest, and I suspected that he wasn't doing the best job brushing his teeth. I was watching and coaching, "Okay, now the bottom. Do the back part. No, not there, the inside. Okay, now the outside. No, no, no, here!" He brushed the same areas over and over again, missing the same two spots with every back-and-forth of the brush. It was clear to me that this was not really a motor control issue, but more of a pre-teen laziness thing. My jaw clenched just a little bit as my frustration mounted.

I stepped in to place my hand over his and guide him in moving the brush over to the neglected teeth. He made one of those rude adolescent noises (a cross between a whine, a grunt, and a growl) and swung around to pull away from me. His scowl lit a spark in me that has been dormant for some time. I felt heat climb up my neck, a knot develop in my stomach, and my teeth ground together so tightly I could hear them crunch. In two seconds flat, I went from frustrated to mad.

I grabbed back on to his hand clasping the toothbrush, and we brushed! A muffled, "Ow!" tried to make its way around the frothy brush jammed into his mouth. I continued. "Ow!" A bit louder this time. With everything in me I wanted to grab on to the back of his neck, make him be still, and brush all my fury away. I wanted to scream at him to, "Shut up and stop whining! If you did a good job in the first place I wouldn't have to help you!" I could feel it bubbling to the surface...

And then I felt this little pinprick in my spirit and words from James echoed in my mind, Human anger does not produce the righteousness God desires... The balloon of anger didn't burst, but developed a slow leak. I could tell that it would deflate soon, if I just gave it time and quit puffing more air into it. I shot up a dart of a prayer, "Lord, I need you to interrupt me right now, so I don't completely lose it." Without a word, I let go and stepped out of the bathroom. I breathed deeply once, twice, three times. While smaller, that balloon still rested at the back of my throat. I took the three steps into my bedroom, closed the door, stuffed my pillow into my face, and hollered with everything in me, "Aggggghhhhhhh!!!" Then I breathed again - in through the nose, out through the mouth, again, again.

I realized that the rushed morning hours may not be the best time for teaching. I returned to find Braeden rinsing his mouth. I said sorry that I was rough and asked if he was okay. He nodded. I asked him if we could practice brushing his teeth properly on Saturdays, to make sure he's getting all the areas. He nodded. I asked if I could have a hug. He smiled and nodded and wrapped his one good arm around me, "I love you, Mom. You're the best."

As I sent my big boy out the door to his bus, I reflected on how differently that could have gone. How differently it would have gone in the past. And I thanked God for working in me and for interrupting me when I need Him to.


How to stop anger in its tracks:

1. Learn to recognize the physical feelings of anger that precede the emotional outburst. Respond to those physical feelings by stepping away.

2. Find Scriptures that remind you why you don't want to be angry. Write them out on index cards, carry them around, read them out loud. Eventually, they will get lodged in your heart and mind.

3. Ask God to interrupt your typical reactions.*

4. Breathe.

5. Pay attention to the times of day (or month) that you are easily triggered. Make those times of day as routine as possible and avoid things that add more stress (such as trying to teach a new skill or send an important email).

6. Always ask for forgiveness.

7. Don't forget to thank God for each and every success.


Have you experienced that pinprick in the spirit recently, where God interrupts your natural reaction to turn you around? Maybe when you were about to speak those snarky words to your husband? Or share that juicy morsel of gossip with a girlfriend? Perhaps it's your own anger story? I'd love to hear how God has been working in your life!


* This phrase is adapted from a live talk given by Lysa TerKeurst.

Seven Steps to Stop Anger in its Tracks

The other morning I was supervising Braeden (12) as he went through his morning routine. Because of his cerebral palsy, Braeden's motor control isn't always the greatest, and I suspected that he wasn't doing the best job brushing his teeth. I was watching and coaching, "Okay, now the bottom. Do the back part. No, not there, the inside. Okay, now the outside. No, no, no, here!" He brushed the same areas over and over again, missing the same two spots with every back-and-forth of the brush. It was clear to me that this was not really a motor control issue, but more of a pre-teen laziness thing. My jaw clenched just a little bit as my frustration mounted.

I stepped in to place my hand over his and guide him in moving the brush over to the neglected teeth. He made one of those rude adolescent noises (a cross between a whine, a grunt, and a growl) and swung around to pull away from me. His scowl lit a spark in me that has been dormant for some time. I felt heat climb up my neck, a knot develop in my stomach, and my teeth ground together so tightly I could hear them crunch. In two seconds flat, I went from frustrated to mad.

I grabbed back on to his hand clasping the toothbrush, and we brushed! A muffled, "Ow!" tried to make its way around the frothy brush jammed into his mouth. I continued. "Ow!" A bit louder this time. With everything in me I wanted to grab on to the back of his neck, make him be still, and brush all my fury away. I wanted to scream at him to, "Shut up and stop whining! If you did a good job in the first place I wouldn't have to help you!" I could feel it bubbling to the surface...

And then I felt this little pinprick in my spirit and words from James echoed in my mind, Human anger does not produce the righteousness God desires... The balloon of anger didn't burst, but developed a slow leak. I could tell that it would deflate soon, if I just gave it time and quit puffing more air into it. I shot up a dart of a prayer, "Lord, I need you to interrupt me right now, so I don't completely lose it." Without a word, I let go and stepped out of the bathroom. I breathed deeply once, twice, three times. While smaller, that balloon still rested at the back of my throat. I took the three steps into my bedroom, closed the door, stuffed my pillow into my face, and hollered with everything in me, "Aggggghhhhhhh!!!" Then I breathed again - in through the nose, out through the mouth, again, again.

I realized that the rushed morning hours may not be the best time for teaching. I returned to find Braeden rinsing his mouth. I said sorry that I was rough and asked if he was okay. He nodded. I asked him if we could practice brushing his teeth properly on Saturdays, to make sure he's getting all the areas. He nodded. I asked if I could have a hug. He smiled and nodded and wrapped his one good arm around me, "I love you, Mom. You're the best."

As I sent my big boy out the door to his bus, I reflected on how differently that could have gone. How differently it would have gone in the past. And I thanked God for working in me and for interrupting me when I need Him to.

Have you experienced that pinprick in the spirit recently, where God interrupts your natural reaction to turn you around? Maybe when you were about to speak those snarky words to your husband? Or share that juicy morsel of gossip with a girlfriend? Perhaps it's your own anger story? I'd love to hear how God has been working in your life!

How to stop anger in its tracks:
1.. Learn to recognize the physical feelings of anger that precede the emotional outburst. Respond to those physical feelings by stepping away.
2. Find Scriptures that remind you why you don't want to be angry. Write them out on index cards, carry them around, read them out loud. Eventually, they will get lodged in your heart and mind.
3. Ask God to interrupt your typical reactions.*
4. Breathe.
5. Pay attention to the times of day that you are easily triggered. Make those times of day as routine as possible and avoid things that add more stress (such as trying to teach a new skill or send an important email).
6. Always ask for forgiveness.
7. Don't forget to thank God for each and every success.

* This phrase is adapted from a live talk given by Lysa TerKeurst.

Throwing Fits

Braeden (12) recently spent a week at camp. Camp is always special, but this one is extra-special.

Every summer, since my firstborn was six-years-old, I sign my kids up for camps of various sorts. Sports day camps, arts day camps, vacation Bible schools, and overnight Bible camps. For Braeden, camp has always involved me finding and hiring someone to work as an aide with him, assisting him in both doing the tasks and the social aspect of camp.

If I'm honest, there haven't been too many camp experiences that he has enjoyed. You see, many kids with special needs find large, loud, group situations overwhelming and stressful. Braeden is no exception. In fact, one summer, we left a VBS registration line up with both he and I in tears. Him, because the thought of me leaving him there in all that chaos was terrifying. Me, because the knowledge that he could not go to VBS (like "normal" kids) was devastating.

Yet I keep trying. (No, I've never dragged him kicking and screaming into VBS.) Trying different camps, with different focus, having different aide workers. Because camp is an experience I don't want Braeden to miss out on. I always knew that if we found the right one, he would love it as I did in my childhood.

I spent so many years attempting to give my son a normal experience, when what he really needed was a special experience. Camp Rehoboth: Bible camp just for kids with special needs. Rehoboth means room. Turns out that is exactly what Braeden needed - room to move, room to grow, room to simply be.

He moved on from there and dug another well, and no one quarreled over it. He named it Rehoboth, saying, "Now the LORD has given us room and we will flourish in the land." ~Genesis 26:22

I don't know about you, but I am learning that I spend far too much time and energy trying to make things "fit." I want to fit in. I want my kids to fit into the roles their teachers have for them. I try to fit everything into its perfect place in the house. My schedule is all about fitting tasks into time. Fit here, fit there, fit everywhere. (About makes me want to have a fit!)

Sometimes, we all just need a little room.

The Gift You Never Wanted

It's a special day. Feels like you've waited forever for today. Finally, it's here!

People begin to arrive for the celebration, many of them bearing gifts. You eye the brightly-coloured packages with a sense of anticipation. Fluttery feelings dance through your stomach. Today is the day!

You notice something unusual - there is a package, just peeking out from a polka-dot gift bag, that is wrapped up in plain brown packing paper. For just a moment you wonder about that package, but soon the joyful mood around you distracts you from your musings.

The excitement builds until the time for opening the gifts arrives. At last! You begin with care, trying not to tear the pretty paper, but that only lasts for a moment before eagerness wins out and you tear into each package voraciously.

As each present's wrapping and packaging is tossed aside, a pile of precious items grows at your feet. You open one package that promises blue eyes, another offering curly brown hair. Sweet baby smiles and coos...endless childhood hugs...bundles of dandelion flowers...

You are done, and there is so much joy. But wait, that intriguing box - the one wrapped simply in brown paper - remains. You aren't very excited about opening that one. In fact, the thought of accepting that gift is a bit scary. But you know that if you ignore it, the giver will be hurt. It is with trepidation that you take this gift in ugly wrapping onto your lap, slowing pulling back the corners.

It can't be! No. You want to stop opening it. You can tell that this box holds something much different than baby-powder smells, booty-covered toes, or bassinet naps. This is big. Scary. What is this thing?! There are a million words to describe it, to understand it, but the explanation that reverberates in your head is, "Something is wrong." Sometimes this present is called Down Syndrome or heart defect; in my case it was called Cerebral Palsy and Epilepsy.

You wish you had never even noticed that package. Sometimes you wish that you had never come to your special day. But you have no choice, you place that present in the pile with all the others.

As days and years go by, you have moments where all you see are the treasures that came out of the first several gift bags. They are like gold coins from a treasure chest. Other days, you will find yourself seeing only the stuff from the other package - the unwanted gift. Beside the gold coins, they are lumps of coal.

The passage of time reveals a surprising discovery. Something seems to be happening to those coals. You see a glimmer peeking through the dirt and ash. Suddenly you remember - under the right circumstances, coal becomes diamonds. Diamonds! Diamonds such as unbridled joy at a new accomplishment, unconditional love for others, unexpected moments of beauty. Each diamond is valuable beyond measure. Certainly more precious than a handful of gold coins.

You think to yourself, "If I had never opened that gift in the ugly package, I would never have discovered these precious gems!"

A woman with a handful of gold is rich. A woman whose gold coins lay among a pile of coals knows she's rich. A woman whose coals slowly turn into diamonds not only knows she's rich, but knows that she is blessed!

Having a child with special needs and/or medical issues is like receiving that gift wrapped in packing paper. At first, we may not really want to open that gift because the wrapping doesn’t look as pretty as we hoped it would. But once a Mom tears into that paper to see what’s inside, she will discover unimaginable treasure! Sure, there will likely be a number of cubic zirconia stones (and more coals) mixed in with all the treasure – each will bring new disappointment – but the discovery of real diamonds makes the gift worth every moment of discouragement.

Eleven

In our first year of marriage, I was quite insistent that Pat and I exchange the traditional anniversary gifts. I had a calendar made with pictures from our wedding for him to hang at work. (I don't think he ever did take it to work, though, because he was mostly on the road.) I can't remember what he got me, but it was definitely paper.

Once we were coming up on the year of cotton, we decided that buying one another clothes was dumb. Instead, we bought stuff that we wanted. Kinda like a birthday. I'm sure we did gifts for a few years, but after a while that became more headache and expense than we wanted.

The past few years, we've chosen time together for our anniversary. Last year, our tenth, we spent the weekend at the same place we spent our honeymoon. I got a tattoo. (Not really related, but hey!)

Most of the time (not just anniversaries) our dates involve doing what I like to do.This year, our anniversary was spent doing what Pat has always wanted to do - camping as a family. To say I enjoyed it would be an understatement. It was great! (No one is more surprised by this than I.) Here are a few snapshots of our anniversary weekend.

Along the way you'll notice a few peeps that don't belong to us. We had 3 extra young folk on the trip, as well as a friend and co-worker of Pat's with his wife and little boy. Many of these photos were taken by said friend/co-worker.

Somebody learned to ride on just two-wheels! Yay, Megan! You go girl!

Abbey demonstrating her gymnastics skills for Shea and G.

Pat had to get in on the two-wheel riding action. This picture was posted on the wall at work first thing Monday morning.

Braeden and J were the only ones brave enough to get in that cold lake and stay in!

Wheee! Malakai put on hundreds of miles over the weekend.

Sweet smiling G. Her face had this expression on it for the whole time.

Daisy dog got in on the action. Camping plumb wore her out.

I believe they were building a city of volcanoes.

Pat and Abbey, sitting still and quiet in hopes of catching a squirrel in their net.

Kai's new buddy, Little C (or "baby," as Kai fondly referred to him) stuck close to the shiny red tricycle at all times.

This may have been the shot that caught Braeden right in the face. I think J overestimated the amount of power required to kick a mini soccer ball!

Braeden getting in on the soccer action. (Obviously, this was prior to the hit in the face. After that incident he decided to "retire." LOL!)

Here's Big C. See that gap? He yanked those two front teeth out the day we left for camping. The tooth fairy even comes to visit in travel trailers, didya know?

I'm pretty sure this was the, "Mama, carry me up!" look.

There must have been a Pat-monster chasing these kids...

No family outing is complete without a friendly match of Kung-Fu fighting.

Deficient

Not for the first time, I am pondering the words of James 1:2-4. This time, though, I heard them quoted from the Message.

Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don't try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.

What jumps out at you from this passage?

For me, the word "deficient" leaps off the page. In life, in faith, in all things, the LAST thing I want to be is deficient, insufficient, or less-than. It would seem that my best defense against being found lacking is to allow the difficulties of this life do their work, to not try to get out of trials, and to allow them to make me mature and well-developed. I don't know if, in the midst of things, I would consider pressure and hardship a gift. Yet after the fact, I can honestly say that I would not be the person I am without having had certain unpleasant life experiences.

Without a special needs child, I would have little compassion for the pain, heartache, and utter exhaustion so many parents are walking through. Because I had to fight, research, and advocate for Braeden, I feel equipped to help and encourage other parents to ask for what they need.

Had I not walked through the valley of the shadow of depression, I suspect I would be unsympathetic (and even judgemental) of others in need of counselling and medication to treat their mental health issues. Instead, I find my heart burdened to pray for my friends caught in the mire of emotional anguish.

If I had not been a teenage disaster, not experienced the loss of two pregnancies, not been a fatherless girl desperate for a man to love me, if I had not had times of plenty and times of very little, and not had empty and angry painful years in my marriage... Who would I be? In spite of the pain that each of these experiences caused me, I do not believe I would want do go back and do life again without them. For then I would be a woman who knew not the scandalous grace offered through Christ, the freedom found in offering forgiveness, the love of a Father who never leaves, the beauty of a marriage restored, the bonds of friendships soldered over shared sorrows...

What about you?

Does this version of the passage give you any new insights about your own faith walk? Looking back, can you see how certain trials have shaped and matured you? Are there struggles that you have come through, that you can now genuinely say were a "sheer gift?"

True Confessions

The Tooth Fairy in this house is likely the most negligent TF you've ever heard of.

Megan has now lost 4 teeth.

The first one was easy to remember, because TF put a post-it note on the fridge to help remind her to exchange tooth for money. The second was special because the doctor pulled it out under anaesthetic just before removing her tonsils and adenoids. (TF has a special place in her heart for these kinds of situations and pays double for those teeth.)

Tooth #3, which was lost at school on Monday, was a little trickier. Now, before we get too down on TF, she did have the foresight to stop at the store and get a loonie (that's a Canadian $1 coin, for my US friends) that day. But that loonie was left, forgotten in TF's wallet until 3am, at which time a groggy Megan woke up and came to inform said TF her Mother that TF had not yet come to do the exchange. The issue was dealt with the moment Meg fell back asleep.

Wednesday, while at school, Meg yanked out tooth #4. TF, once again, wisely ensured that she had a loonie on hand.

This post was written on Thursday morning at 6:55am. It was inspired by two big, brown, tear-filled eyes and a forlorn little girl's early-morning voice squeaking out, "The Tooth Fairy didn't come. She forgot about me!"

But before you feel too bad for her (or too judgemental about TF's slacking off around this house), you can know that she was reassured by these words, "Oh dear! You know, this isn't the first time that the Tooth Fairy has fallen asleep on the job. Just ask Braeden - I think the Tooth Fairy fell asleep and forgot about his lost teeth two or three times! But you know what she did? When she woke up in the morning and realized her terrible mistake, the Tooth Fairy always came while Braeden was at school. And with his money she would leave him a not of apology. So go make sure your tooth is still where it should be, because when that Tooth Fairy wakes up - is she ever going to feel foolish!"

Meg smiled, giggled a bit, and asked her mother to make sure that NO ONE enters her room while she's at school today.

Phew. Another bullet dodged. This double-identity stuff can get pretty hard core!

Big Guy

My first baby is twelve today. Hard to imagine that I have a pre-teen when I feel barely older than 20 myself! Happy birthday, Braeden!

Here are some signs that you - my firstborn - are growing up:

* I frequently find you leaning forward, staring at your reflection in the mirror above the bathroom counter. When I ask what in the world you are doing, your reply is always, "I'm looking to see if I have hair on my face yet. Right here, Mom (pointing above your upper lip), do you see it?"

* Family outings, while still enjoyable once you're there, no longer hold much appeal for you. It takes a great deal more effort than I'd like to get you to come along. I am just thankful that you still seem to have a good time when we arrive!

* Your love for video games and all other things electronic surpasses your love for your dog. Poor Daisy!

* I notice your shoulders broadening and your waist getting thicker with each new clothing purchase. Those ribs of yours don't stick out at all anymore!

* Every now and then, you seem to actually care if your hair is messy!

* You are a fierce protector of your younger siblings, and there have been a few times recently where I've had to remind you which one of us is the parent of those 4 little monkeys.

Son, I am proud of you! You truly are growing up, and if I'm completely honest, I have hardly a glimmer of sadness about it. I enjoy seeing you emulate your Dad in many things. I love to watch you lead your sisters with pride and confidence. And I especially love the fact that - even though you are "almost a teenager" (your words), you still gladly hugged me and said, "I love you, Mom!" when I dropped cupcakes at your school today. ;)

I almost forgot the #1 sign that you're growing up - you almost never let me take your picture anymore!

Posers

An Email from Me to You

I have been trying to find a way to word an update on life around here...a way that wraps up God's truths in good writing. But every post I began resulted in an unfinished draft sitting on my dashboard. I decided that the best I can do is to copy and paste an email I sent to a friend about life in our new home. After all, we're all friends in this place.

The house is so fantastic! I LOVE it, LOVE it, LOVE it! It is big and beautiful. Now we need some furniture to fill it up a bit better. :) Last night I joked to Pat that I sure hated all the hardwood and vaulted ceilings b/c they made the kids’ noise echo. LOL.

The neighbourhood is lovely. We’ve met one neighbour (Abbey’s teacher) – she gave us her daughter’s name and number b/c her daughter does respite for families with kids with special needs. I can’t get over how super good God is to me! I’m going to call her this afternoon to set up an “interview.” We saw a little girl across the street who Abbey wants me to take her to see, and there’s a boy in Meg’s class across the street who also has an older brother (just a bit younger than Braeden). So looks like a buddy for all the big kids. We have yet to go meet all these people and set up play dates… All in good time.

We visited a new church on Sunday. I found it a bit stoic (contemporary music, but very reserved in their expression of worship – Pat told me I was the only one who raised my hands during the singing, lol). We are not totally sure about it, but we’ll keep visiting for a couple months to give it a fair shot. It’s the largest church in town, closest to the size and number of programs of CrossRoads, so we figured that it might feel the most comfortable.

Yesterday I went to the women’s coffee group there. It was okay. I enjoyed visiting with other women. But overall wasn’t totally sure if I connected with anyone. Mostly just surface. One woman at our table was preparing to be a surrogate for a friend, and I had a difficult time processing that information, so it may have distracted me from making good connections.

Today I went again, but this group is the Bible study group. I cannot even describe how great it was! These women want to go deep, and they were open about their struggles even though I was new in the small group. They were very welcoming and inviting. One of them also has a girl in preschool with Shea!

There’s a women’s Christmas event this weekend – either Th night, Fri night, or Sat AM. I couldn’t decide which night to buy for when I was at church Sun, so I asked which night they needed to sell more tickets for. Ended up with a lonely ticket for Th night. Turns out that five women from the group today are also going Th night! And they’ve invited me to sit with them. Seriously, God just knocks my socks off! I feel so special to Him, that He would take seriously my prayers for a fast friendship.

I am likely going to WW (Weight Watchers) tomorrow. Gained back a bunch since my fast. Needing some discipline and structure. I prob won’t stay for the meeting, as Kai is a trouble-maker, but paying for the weigh-in is often fairly good motivation and accountability for me.

(An addendum for my bloggy readers.)

Lest you think life is all sunshine and roses, I should mention that everyone seems to be struggling a bit to settle in. Though school is going well for the kiddos, behaviours at home are most definitely in the category of "acting up." Emotions are running high...bickering is frequent...tears come easily...defiance is the only rule. Oh, and the dog finally broke her hunger strike just today!

But I know that this is all part of the transition. I still believe that God has called us here for a purpose, and I know that when He calls us it is not always easy. Through His strength, we will all work through the tough weeks and come out the other side closer to Him and one another, ready to step into our calling (whatever that is, lol).

Dry

My blog presence has been sparse this week. I know. Braeden has been sick.

You'd think that being home with a sick kid would give me more time to blog, but no. You see, he is male. And the male species is well-known for their dramatization of even the slightest symptoms of illness.

All joking aside, Braeden really isn't doing well. When my boy gets sick, he has a very hard time keeping even water down. So he avoids drinking. No matter how often I remind him to drink, the tiny sips he takes just aren't enough. So what began as a mild stomach virus has now turned into serious dehydration. This morning's plans include a visit to the local hospital for a quick treatment of IV fluids.

It's a vicious cycle: nausea - loss of fluids - fear of taking anything in - further loss of fluids - dehydration causing nausea - etc. Based on previous experience, I expect his nausea to abate and his feelings of thirst to return before they finish pushing through the whole IV bag. His appetite should return tonight, and by Sunday or Monday he'll be a new man.

But for today, this tired momma and sick little man would appreciate some prayers. The hospital experience, the eternal wait, the needle poke - all these things add up to more wearing down.

I keep reminding myself of my memory verse for this half of the month...

Come to Me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.~Matthew 11:28-30

The 'To Do' List is Now a Little Bit Shorter

Yesterday I went to SP to visit two potential schools for the girls. (If you're wondering, "Why just for the girls?" that's because Braeden is in special education and once all of his ed-psych assessments are done he will be placed in the appropriate program for his developmental level.) This is why I completely forgot to blog yesterday!

SP has a program called "Logos" (Greek for "The Word") within their public school system. Schools that host the Logos program have classrooms at each grade level that are taught by Christian teachers with a Christian worldview and a focus on the Bible. The schools have the Logos classrooms intermingled with the "regular" classrooms (so there is no special area of the school for either). Throughout the schools, posters and artwork with the Word of God decorate the hallways.

There are two elementary schools with the Logos program, so I needed to visit them both and choose the one I liked best. This has been one of the many decisions keeping me up at night, so I really wanted to get it taken care of!

I thank the Lord that He helps in all things, and that He made this decision so clear and easy!

School 1:
- very unfriendly school secretary
- school principal either ignored children or yelled at them to behave as we toured the school
- in spite of exchanging numerous emails over the past couple of weeks, the principal had no recollection of me or our situation, making me have to explain all over again who I was and why I was there
- nearly 500 students
- loud chaos throughout the school, before and during lunch
- an extreme shortage of lunchtime supervision, both indoors and out
- students sneaking into the wooded area on the playground and not being caught by the supervisors
- bus drop-off and pick up on the far, far sidewalk
- did I mention the chaos and misbehaving children around every.single.corner?

School 2:
- super friendly secretaries who introduced themselves using first names (a plus in my books...my kids should call teachers etc. by "Mr" and "Mrs," but I am a grown up and don't appreciate them asking me to call them anything different than what I expect them to call me)
- super friendly principal and vice principal
- about 300+ students
- principal stopped and talked to students all along the way on our tour, repeatedly praising them and encouraging good behaviour, telling their teachers when she noticed anything exemplary that she wanted them to be acknowledged for
- both during lunch and after, children were seated and doing what they should be (though lunch time was louder, there was no sense of chaos or disorder)
- a slightly lesser shortage of lunchtime supervision
- bus drop-off and pick-up right at the front doors, always supervised by the principal or vice principal
- met the grade 2 Logos teacher, who was also friendly and outgoing
- discovered that the grade 2 Logos teacher lives on our street (as do 3 other families from this school, that she could think of), and she offered up her 16 and 20 year-old daughters to babysit!

Needless to say, Abbey and Megan are now registered in this school, and Shea's name is on the list for Kindergarten next year.

One more thing to cross of the list. Thank-you, Jesus!

And thanks to Christine for coming along and keeping me company, asking good questions, and being another set of eyes (since the GPS seemed particularly cantankerous). Thanks to mom for getting off work early to tend to five little monkeys. :)

Time, the Trickster

I remember when Braeden (11) was a baby. I sometimes wondered if we would ever move beyond the crying and diaper changes. I was lonely and isolated, and it felt as though he would never grow up. Time moved so slowly.

Now, though, life is busy and fast. I'd like to slow it down just a little bit. I can't believe that my baby went from this....


to this....


in just 23 short months! I can't wrap my head around the fact that he will soon be a two-year-old. Except for the fact that he totally acts like a two-year-old boy. Yeah, that part of the growing up can move right along. Because two-year-old boys, they are a handfull! Mmmm-hmmmm.

I wonder if there have been times in my walk with Him that God has felt that about me? Like it would never end... Or as though I should hurry on up and get over it, already!

Then I think of those moments where my sweet baby will still sit and snuggle on my lap. I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and savour that feeling. Reminds me that I need to snuggle into my Abba's arms just a little more often, and stay just a little bit longer.