A Prescription for Inscription

When I started my blog a year ago, just about exactly a year ago from today, (Happy Birthday Blog! Bless you for reading Readers!), one reason I wanted to write was to mark the moments and cement the memories we make as a family. I wanted to write so I could remember, and my kids could learn about their lives at the beginning- what we believed in, how we behaved, and what brought us back to what really mattered.

Today I’ll recount the story of last Wednesday- primarily for the purpose of telling 8-year-old Oakley about one brave day and the little scar he wears on his ear.

Wednesday morning, January 22, 2014 8:30am (this already sounds waaaay too dramatic)

Oakley and I were in the kitchen cleaning up breakfast. The big kids were at school and Drew was at work for an 8:30 meeting. I held Oaks while I rinsed the oatmeal pot in the sink. He reached to grab the wooden spoon nearby and stirred the rinse water in the pot. I had to go to the bathroom (the alternating cups of coffee and water catch up with me quick!) so I moved the pot and an inch of clean water to the floor and handed him the wooden spoon. He was diaper-less after just being changed (I love air time for young bums), and I took off his socks so he wouldn’t slip before I headed out of the kitchen.

While I was washing my hands moments later, I heard Oakley cry out with a distressed and screeching cry. I ran to the kitchen and found him face down near the pot. He had slipped somehow despite my deliberate sock removal. I held him up to investigate the injury. Nothing blaring at first sight. Then I saw blood on his right ear. I looked closer, wiped a bit of blood away and screamed. His ear lobe was split! A laceration, tear, gaping split, tore his tiny, tender ear lobe in half.

I quickly realized this was a big deal. “We need to go somewhere. Somewhere for stitches. How serious of stitches?”, the thoughts raced through my head as moans and cries flew out my mouth. I was pacing and carrying Oakley and freaking out. I called Drew mid freak-out and in some semblance of words and yells said, “Oakley is really hurt. I have to go somewhere. I don’t know where to go. He is really hurt.” I was crying, Oakley was wailing.

It was 8:35am at this point and Drew’s meeting was going to start late. This was key. He was able to call an urgent care clinic for me to assure they would see a young child. I got myself out of jammies and Oakley diapered, and stuffed a few things in the diaper bag. I wanted to distract and help Oaks as much as possible so I gave him a snack trap full of frozen blueberries for the ride. He had calmed down and the bleeding from his ear was minimal.

I headed towards the clinic- not quite knowing if that was where I should go- the big hospital ER seemed too big, but my doctor’s office seemed too non-emergent- I needed help now. When I opened Oakley’s van door to get him out at the clinic, my heart skipped another beat. He was all black and blue- oh the frozen blueberries! He had devoured them with all 5 right fingers and his whole mouth and chin. I took the time to wipe him down- off with the blue and some more ear blood- before heading in.

The nurses were quick we were talking to a doctor within 5 minutes. He was a kind, dutiful man who quickly noted the youth of his morning patient. He laid Oaks on the table and cleaned his ear. This was agony for all involved- the nurse was sad, it hurt my heart to see and hear him in pain, and Oakley screamed and writhed. It was enough to assure the doctor of his first impression: his ear needed “major repair- internal and external stitches” and his age dictated the need for anesthesia that would keep him still. As the only doctor in an urgent care clinic, he was medically capable but didn’t have the time or supplies to give us the care we needed. He suggested we head to Children’s Mercy Hospital.

“What?! Children’s Mercy?” That place looms large in my mind as a place for devastatingly sick children. Children’s Mercy is the place my friend’s son receives surgeries for his serious condition and spends months at a time in care and recovery. Children’s Mercy comes alongside families whose children are permanently and severely disabled, battling cancer, or dying despite valiant medical efforts. My kiddo just had a cut ear…where we going to be welcome there? Weren’t our problems too small?

I drove down with trepidation and the assistance of a phone call to my mom (not for me but for other three, she had sat next to stitching up doctors numerous times). She reassured me that he was going to be okay and that I should calm down. I parked in the visitors garage as I had the numerous times I had come as a visitor. This meant Oakley and I walked through two blocks of the hospital from the inside to find the cheery and not-too-busy emergency department.

While walking through the maze of halls at CMH, the full weight of how small our problems were was upon me. Passing children in wheel chairs, parents stricken with grief and others weary of the long haul that is a kid with a terminal illness, the yells of a code blue down the hall, and signs that read “Oncology” or “Operating Rooms”, left me once again so grateful for the seven years of parenting that I have had without incident. We are unbelievably blessed. (Later I learned, that same day while we were there, a friend of a friend’s 10 month old baby died in the same hospital of a sudden and freak malady. Unbelievable agony.)

In the Children’s Mercy ER, Oaks was registered and seen in the triage room within 10 minutes. (Bless the lady behind the desk who held him while I could go to the bathroom right when we got there. Once again, in the future, for a kid injury emergency, I’ll want to avoid the morning timing of my, drink and pee routine!) 

While waiting, I took a picture of the injury.

The before picture. Note the curve of the bruise from the side of the pot where he had slipped and caught himself with his face.

We were put into our own room and visited by two doctors, one nurse, and hospital registration. Oakley was his busy self walking around the room- sorting the sani-wipes he found in the one unlocked cabinet.

I had kept Drew in the loop sporadically and he knew we were headed towards stitches. I thought I would be okay but he said he was coming. I had yet to text him the photo. Already on his way, he received the text and realized the full extent of the injury I had only explained in wails earlier.

Oakley was given a gown and we were told about the mild sedation. He would be awake but wouldn’t remember the experience or feel pain. They just needed him sleepy enough to hold him still and sew. Oaks walked around cheerily until they inserted an IV to provide access for the meds.

Waiting and playing

The IV was rough. Drew was there with me and the binky and Mr. Monkey- a last second grab that would prove to be a comforting constant in such a crazy ordeal- got him through. The IV was in and he was hooked up to 4 monitors. The one band-aid looking one on his big toe was a magnet for one-year old tactile play- he wanted it off!

They inserted the first does of sedation anesthesia and pain medicine. Within 30 seconds, Oaks let out a giggle and conked his head back heavily on my chest. It would take a full three doses to get him relaxed enough for the 2 medical personnel and Drew and me to hold and soothe him through the sew up. My kids…they don’t sit or lay still easily.

On the table for stitches

Lidocaine into the actual ear tears was the end of the prep and then the sewing began. Oakley wiggled a little bit but was still enough and the doctor was able to sew seven small stitches through the front and back of the split. Right near the end, it seemed like he’d need more sedation to get him through. Instead, we snuggled Mr. Monkey closer and I sang, “Every body, loves our Oakley, yes they do, yes they do…”  It was a humbling mom moment. I don’t sing in front of people, but that didn’t matter just then. What mattered was giving Oakley an anchor to hold onto in a disorienting moment- to sing to his subconscious and allow him to rest into who he knew was close.

He did so well. He was brave and sweet and cried so little. While waiting for the sedation to wear off, we surveyed the sew-up.

Put back together- 7 stitches

The attention and care Oakley received was wonderful. We were sent home with simple instructions and the reassurance that the body wants to heal itself and these stitches would help Oakley’s ear make itself whole again.

It was now 12:45pm. Oakley and I rode with Drew back over to our visitor’s parking garage. He dropped us off and headed back to work. I loaded Oaks into his car seat- another snuggle with Monkey made the move smooth- and backed out. When I turned my wheel up the ramp I felt a big bump. Sure enough, the front right tire was completely flat. I quickly called Drew. The last thing he expected me to say was, “I have a flat tire” but it had just been one of those shocking phone call kind of days.

He was turned around and back in 10 minutes. We had a flat open spot to work within and wrestled out the tools and spare tire. It was chilly in the garage so we shut Oakley’s door while we worked; he fell asleep within the first few minutes. Having never conquered a tire change by ourselves, Drew and I worked well together and had the spare on in about 30 minutes.

We moved sleepy Oaks to the other car so Drew could take our van to the tire place by his office. Drew was driving away and asked me to double check the spare. I went to wave him off with a thumbs up but instead saw the spare tire was completely flat. Oh no.

Discouraged but not distraught, we flagged down a security car whose kind and confident officer said he did indeed have an air compressor and would be back with it. We waited for about 20 minutes. He came back with the compressor but the spare would not take on any air. He wondered if it was the compressor so he said he’d go recharge it and be back.

We waited about 30 minutes. During the wait, we creatively but unsuccessfully tried to put Accord spare on the van. Oakley was sleeping cozily and deeply so we were able to patiently think of plans C and D. It was cold and we were hungry by the time the security guard came back at 2:45. Still no luck- no air into the spare.

We parked the van out of the way and took the wheel and flat tire to the tire shop. After 5 hours (2 in the garage!), we were leaving the hospital.

The day ended with Drew being able to buy a new tire, have them mount it on the wheel, and then going back down with his dad to change the tire by the end of the day. Drew would also go on to give blood as that was a scheduled part of his day and the picture of people in need was fresh. We have been given so much, we have so much we can give.

Eli and Andi were compassionate and impressed siblings when they heard of Oaks’ injury and his bravery through a stitch up. Oakley would sleep from 1pm-5pm in his car seat and then eat a big dinner much like any other evening.

All in all, it was a really big, expensive, exhausting, emotional, long day. And all in all, we were never overwhelmed, overtaken, or discouraged. The perspective of the big-but-actually-small injury was apt given the trip to Children’s Mercy. For Drew and me, being together, working together, and caring for our child together, came naturally that day. Stress has driven us apart in the past, Wednesday, we just took what kept coming and held on together. Much like the stitches in Oakley’s ear- woven together and healing.

Feeling back to himself on Thursday.

No we are not struck down but we are a bit beat up.

Taking an inventory Friday evening, the tally sheet looked like this:

Since December 20th, the Osborne family:

• had our van hit wrecked for over $4000 of damage in Colorado (now fully fixed thanks to the insurance of the company whose truck hit us!)
• have all been flu-sick
• sent Oaks to the ER with a lacerated ear lobe
• had 2 flat tires
• sent Drew to a routine dental check up that ended with him being diagnosed with a rare dental complication that requires oral surgery and could result in the total loss of a tooth (this was ONE DAY after Oakley’s trip to the hospital!)
• has met with a Realtor to begin the process of selling our house and buying another one
• cheers on Eli and his Green Dragon’s basketball team- coached by Drew
• cheers on Andi in her re-enrollment in gymnastics

Andi ready to roll for winter gymnastics

Eli- number 8- relaxing before his next big quarter of play

• cheers on Oakley as he throws, roll, kicks, and golfs any kind of ball all around the house
• gives THANKS for God’s presence, peace, and provision in and through all.

So Oakley, that’s the story of the scar on your ear and the day you were brave, friendly, and sweet through some trauma- making me a braver Mama.

Gateway Staff Gang

The front of St Peter’s Basilica- the oldest and longest running house of worship in America! Downtown St. Augustine.

Today, I’m back from being out of town for a Young Life work assignment in Florida. I had a the great pivilege of serving as a TA for the Gospel’s seminary class taught to second and third year staff people by Mark Strauss, seminary professor from Bethel Seminary in San Diego, as well as leading a seminar on Ordering our Time and Life to first year staff people. I was impressed with the thoughtful, humble, and transparent leadership by some of the biggest leaders in the mission. I learned so much by sitting and listening- keeping my mouth shut for once!- and enjoying the lessons on leadership, decision making, paying attention and leading with care. I was most excited about working alongside and learning from my good friend Ray Donatucci, and being with my Gateway Region staff peers for a whole week! The memories made, songs sung, laughs heckled, and conversations shared, built into me deeper things of the Spirit and more love for Jesus.

My staff friends at the Ponce de Leon fort in St. Augustine

Now, Today is Transition day. I’m taking down Christmas around and outside our house, and thinking back to take-aways from being at Winter Training. So far, I’m holding up ok.

To add to the trauma possibilities, I ook Oaks to the doctor for his 15 month old check up which included 2 shots. Instead of nursing him for post-stick comfort, today I offered him Teddy Grahams. We stopped nursing fully when I left last week. Being back with him today and not connecting in that way leaves an ache. I know it’s time and see him thriving but feel the finality of something so precious and so “baby” ending, as a loss. I feel like the luckiest to have sat 4-8 times a day in quiet and tender moments with Oakley this whole past year. I will treasure the times with all my kids in that rocking chair- sustenance and snuggling, calories and comfort- a most amazing opportunity for all 4 of us!

Some Take-Aways from Winter Training:

1. Young Life has about 40,000 volunteers working in direct ministry to kids and about 4,500 staff people. Staff are essential in the recruiting, training, and encouraging of volunteers. Without capable and intentional YL staff people, we wouldn’t have these volunteers changing the lives of so many adolescents.
2. Ministry is much more subtle than we first realize.- Ray
3. Galatians 5:5-6 says, “But we who live by the Spirit eagerly wait to receive by faith the righteousness God has promised to us.  For when we place our faith in Christ Jesus, there is no benefit in being circumcised or being uncircumcised. What is important is faith expressing itself in love.”   A passionate reminder by Chap Clark that God loves us and wants us to TRUST God and that great love. He said lots and something along the lines of, “The gospel is not sin management. The goal of spiritual disciplines (like circumcision in Galatia, or prayer and Bible studies for us) is not to increase our righteousness but to increase our trust in what we already have, for free, in Jesus.” I do nothing and yet Jesus calls me His.
4. This year, 2014, for me personally I want to focus on:

• Not keeping score
• Entering in- staying in the present with people or a task.
• Saying much less
• Believing the best
  

  Sending a thumbs up back to sick Andi-Girl…in great care thanks to Daddy and GG

Last week was a gift. I’m very thankful for the invitation from the Training Department and the preparation of the Spirit, for my time in Florida. I’ve returned filled up. I’m back to the present- ecstatic to be home with my family, grateful for Michelle, Gayle, my mom, and Drew for their help in loving and caring for the kids while I was gone, and enjoying the last lights of Christmas around my house.

Family Hugs

It was my Aunt Nancy who had the great idea, and the internet savvy energy, to get us all together in Colorado over Christmas. In August, she painstakingly and thoughtfully booked a beautiful home for 21 family members near Breckenridge, CO.

Before Labor Day weekend, the idea was proposed and instated, to draw one name per person and give an intentional, thoughtful and perhaps even homemade present to one other person in the family. The family began collecting pictures, mixing soap salts, sewing napkins, knitting scarves, jerking beef, and writing stories.

By October, we were assigned to cooking teams of mixed family members, no couples on a team- as per family tradition. Uncle Bill was deemed wine steward and utility man.  Menu ideas circulated, ideas were shared, and  palates tantalized.

November and December brought excitement, preparation, and packing. We couldn’t wait to travel and be together. My family loaded into the minivan with trusty (patient, flexible and gracious) travel companions Laura and James. We landed in Colorado late Friday night at my sister Natalie’s home. She and her husband John welcomed us with warmth, beauty, comfort and extravagance in details from kid beds to breakfast bagels in their awesomely remodeled, sleek, and warm new kitchen!

We spent the first weekend with my Dad and Grandma Sustad. We were able to meet a sweet and special woman my dad has started dating. With a divorce 2 years old and a separation 5 years aged, most of the emotion of my parent’s split has been expressed. However, sneaky and unsuspecting feelings and fears sometimes rear  their heads. Despite some muddled confused emotions, the trepidation I had going into the gatherings were smoothed over, and the success of the weekend was palatable. Precious times around a piano at my Grandmas. Generous and bountiful meals. Heatlth and happiness of my Dad. Connection and closeness as a Sustad-Sibling-and-Spouse 8 was superb.

Great Grandma Gives Us Our Tea Cups

The transition from Dad-side to Mom-side occurred Sunday night and mountain adventures began Monday morning.

Skiing with Scot and Dad

After a great day of skiing at Copper Mountain with my Dad, brother, James and Drew, the car we were in, my mom’s ‘96 Avalon , blew shocks 5 miles away from the rented house. We called for a ferry ride from John and his life-saving truck.

While sitting on the side of the road, we heard from the others, who were stuck on the mountain road in our mini-van. Four children, 2 women and a van-load of stuff packed up from Denver (mostly presents and food!)  were side-lined on the snowy and steep-enough road. Eventually the van was tugged by a kind guy named Andy who assured them he loves an opportunity to use his straps and strong truck.

The van  would spend the night on the side of the road, as the drive way of the beautiful home was beautifully- and unconquerably- steep. Minivan with bare tires:  fail.

Monday night- Night one in the mountain house: December 23rd. Mid-dinner prep- team 1 rocking it with grilled burgers!, the downstairs toilet- serving 13 lower level inhabitants- overflows. This immediately backs up and spews sewage. Not clean toilet water, but disgusting, raw sewage. As the dank climbed their calves, my sister and brother mopped, and toweled, and caught the mess from ruining carpet and the evening.

Soon discovered: The fallout: a complete septic shut-off. The water to the house was completely cut off and NO liquids were to be put down any drains, sinks, or toilets- fear of another sewage spill-out was dauntingly fresh. Undaunted by the challenge however, my 83 year old Grammy said, “Good thing I wore my warm jammies. What snow should I use? The front snow or the back snow to go potty? Does someone have boots I can borrow?”

We went into full camping mode with mostly pleasant, playful, and giggly attitudes. Scot and James gathered snow in stock pots. I boiled some and offered drinks with small pine needle floaties. I went in to check on the sleeping kids- who had gone to bed a little thirsty!- and found that Eli had gotten sick. I could gather most of the mess in the blanket and dump it. Surprising but not alarming. An hour later, after prepping breakfast crepe batter for the morning (no water needed- milk and eggs only!), I went in to find that Eli had gotten sick once again. Shooot! A pile of puke! And now I’m a little distraught. There is no water to clean kid, carpet, or my hands. We make it through and head to bed- dry mouthed and tired!

Christmas Eve Day- December 24th. Drew and I head out mid-morning to the van on the road to assess and take action. Drew calls from beyond the snowbank in a dead-pan voice and says, “Well, bad news. The whole back of the van is crashed.” No back window. Shattered glass. Multiple body wounds- paint, lights, and bumper- all mangled. We move snow to look futilely for a note. Nothing. Just one last box of presents getting covered in snow through the open back hatch and my shocked sadness. I sit still and sad in the snow. Laura enters in empathetically. Drew’s surprise is calm but building into anger. What happened!?! A hit and run on Christmas?!

We spent the majority of the day with sadness, confusion, anger,  frustration, and “red tape”-filing a claim, making calls. No one was answering the phone or able to help as it was a holiday time of the year. Emotions of calm and collectedness gave way to outbursts of anger and lots of tears as I dealt with it throughout the day. A particularly low point was finding the whole van filled with a foot of snow by 3pm, despite our best efforts of covering it with the previously pukey red and black blanket. (Thank goodness Nat threw that bulky blanket in the packed cars!) Graciously and secretly, my mom and brother went and shoveled out the van and secured the wrap. Love and care despite my rough and sensitive emotions.

Christmas Eve was wonderful. The joy of children, the connection of family, and the tender and personal opening of the crafted Christmas gifts. We went to bed tired but full. Sleep was interrupted every Colorado night by Oakley’s inability to sleep soundly. Alas- we were tired but blessed and together.

Game faces

Christmas Eve Kiddos

Wednesday- Christmas Morning- After stocking joy and yummy breakfast, enjoying the view and newly fallen snow out the window, we gather for a family time in reflection and scripture. When the question is posed, “What can we do better to act as siblings in God’s family?”, honest and good thoughts are shared by different family members around the room. A couple of comments get personal and pointed and the meeting breaks up with some mild tension building. A side conversation ensues and comments and cares from events of the evening before and the mornings interactions are dissected. Emotions and words escalate quickly and suddenly, piercingly, a full blown fight has broken out.

I personally take responsibility for saying things I shouldn’t have in tones that were too tough. In the moment I act out of gut-reaction instead of deliberate and careful response. There is struggle and discussion, long held hurts and current challenges find air space and expression. So much is said, so much is heard. Not much is resolved. I head outside to join the sledding crew but know something hard and big has just happened.

Scot and his crew members have constructed an amazing sledding jump and hill outside. The snow is glistening and the hang time is long. It’s an epically soft landing, I’m assured. Adventure. Bravery. FUN!

Eli’s air time

Andi in the igloo

Christmas dinner tastes delicious- beef tips, brussel sprouts, potatoes, appetizers, drinks, salad, cinnamon jello and cranberry pudding for dessert! We play games. The kids do a children’s Christmas story show with earnest involvement and childlike enthusiasm.

It’s hard to sleep with all the emotional and relational hardship that happened during the day and Oakley continues to wake frequently.

The morning holds possibility of reconciliation which doesn’t come easily. There was so much shared in the day before-exposure of our issues, faults, deep pain, years of buried frustration, questions and very current explosions of anger and blaming. I held onto hope with a heavy heart and moved into the day before us: SKI SCHOOL!Eli and Andi were headed to the hill- their first experience of skiing! We saddled up and hoped the bad luck following us so far would stay far away from our kiddos and their knees, heads, and spirits!

Copper Mountain gave us great joy! We skied with our siblings, Dad, and cousin Molly and had a blast,while Eli and Andi had a fabulous time in ski school. They both got a great handle on it and loved the experience! Things were looking up!

Victorious Eli!

Andi on the big hill!

The rest of the time we spent in the mountains still held some dissension as such hurt, pain, and disconnection is not healed in a day. However we also enjoyed each other and time in the beauty of our surroundings. I particularly enjoyed:

-a side chat with my cousin about God’s purposes in and through people

-game playing with my grandpa- both spades and a snow-man building cootie-type dice game

-embracing family

-fabulous foods

-smiles from Oakley who lit up the room wherever he walked and wandered

-hugs and back rubs

-excellently mixed cocktails by my brother

-time in the kitchen with Team 4- Grammy, sister in law Kim and Laura. Both Laura and I learned a lot from Kim’s cooking skills, enthusiasm and confidence! We had a blast.

Through the difficulties and drama, I was convicted about my sometimes negative behavior and learned that my tongue, language and demeanor can cut to the quick, injure and discourage. While it is humbling and hard to learn, I’m thankful for the light that was shone onto dark places of my own and our family habits. The fire is indeed refining. Forgiveness and reconcilitaion are exercises in loosening one’s grip on being right, offering another undeserved grace, and freeing oneself from holding onto bitterness or pain. These are not easy or simple tasks. There is much left undone and in process even as I write today.

The cost/benefit analysis of family love and  intimacy is deep. For those we are closest to, we are apt to be most open, honest, and perhaps even evil with. Buried fears and frustrations always erupt. To have them in the open leaves  the one who holds them vulnerable, shocks the ones who had no idea or refused to see, and opens an arena for healing and reconciliation if both parties will engage.

Disengagement, withdraw, and a cutting off permanently costs everyone dearly. Engaging the refining fire, asking for help and forgiveness and looking deep within for the whys behind the whats takes time and love.

Turns out it was the septic repair man who rear ended our van. They will be paying for the repairs this next week- in full. Restitution and resolve . I can only hope our family is likewise healed, helped and beautified after the time we spent together- messy, raw, hilarious, intimate, open, intentional, and flawed- it was a beautiful disaster and all in all, we had a great time. 

Cousin Beauties

Andi and Lena

This and other amazing photos in this post taken by my talented cousin Bonnie

This year the thought that continues to resonate through my Christmas theological thinking is, “No one does this!” No one chooses humiliation over exaltation, no one lowers themselves to status or stature below what they are due. No one chooses humility, humbleness, and humanity when offered recognition, power, and deity. No human enjoys limitations that induce suffering. No one, except the One- God, who did choose to humbly, transformatively, and subjectively come. God, who made Godself nothing, coming in the shape and with the status of a created, limited,  and lowly human, did what no one else could or would choose to do. (I don’t meant to speak in absolutes- there are people who are humble, who put others about self and have lived lives lowering themselves to elevate and help others, and there are moments when we might, even ourselves, choose to live in humility or even to suffer for the sake of something bigger than ourselves.) Mostly, I’m just amazed that a limitless, powerful, and complete God would choose the confines and the consciousness of humanity and come as a baby.

To think of God’s intent and ability to make the choice to come in time, to a place, as a person, is amazing to me anew this Advent. Then, on the other hand, I’m not surprised at all. God is ultimate relationship. God is made up of three persons in perfect, life-thriving community. God created human beings out of this inner-Godhead relationship for realtionship with God and with each other.

God was not content to sit back and miss relating intimately and immediately with human beings, so God came. God came to help us know, understand, and see God’s intentions for life. God sent Jesus to live life as God created life to be. Jesus came as God’s saving and glorifying work– inaugurating the regin and rule of God in our world.

Philip Yancey, in his excellent book, The Jesus I Never Knew, writes about the communication block between goldfish and owners. From the fish perspective, the large, looming human above the bowl seems incomprehensibly threatening- a shape and size so outside of their own kind, they can’t think of anything but running under the nearest ceramic die-cast of a sunken ship. We too, shirk and shrink, hide and hunker down, fear or flee from God, our caring, loving, world-creating and sustaining, “owner”.  The only way to communicate love and care to a goldfish, is to enter the bowl, submerge oneself into the waters, and take on the shape and self of a goldfish- becoming fully-fish in order to communicate care, love, ideas. God and goldfish… God submerged, took shape, and gave Self- becoming like us so that we might understand Love and the way the world is supposed to work.

God gave at Christmas; I have lists of what I want to get. God humbled and humiliated Godself- to the extent that all other deity would have scoffed and scorned even the idea of lowering oneself to the level of one’s worshipers– and I’m thinking about highlights- blonder hair and magical moments of the season. God chose little and less and lowly and life that would lead to death. I choose chocolate and cheer, shopping, movies, traditions, parties, presents and people. I give and I get, take in and thank.

Some how, Christmas centers us on the sacred, the Christological inauguration- God Incarnate- fully Divine and fully human. At the same time Christmas scatters and stresses us out.

Christmas is Christ among us, God with Us. Christmas chaos is perhaps rooted, however distorted, in relational connection and sacrificial giving. Cheer and church, gathering and giving, traveling and toasting, family and fun, a rest and a reminder- Christmas is time to engage in:

1. Awe of the One who did what no one does

2. Repentance of our selfishness in light of God’s self-giving, and

3. Relationship with what is real- love and life the way God designed and gave it.

Merry Christmas to you.  I’m off to host a party, highlight my hair, give blood (oh, a bit of self-sacrifice and suffering after all!), travel to Colorado, ski and cook, and probably lose my cool- I can only hope in all of it, I remember God’s giving and what I’m getting- Jesus, all around, with, above, behind, about and holding me. Joy, peace, love, hope and lots of time with dear friends and my precious family.

Cranberry Pudding for Christmas Being tonight

E and A at Crown Center

Our Corpus Group Christmas Brunch

Alleluia and Amen.

Here’s the thing with me and Pinterest: I enjoy the eye-candy and “Ooh” and “Ahhh” over people’s ideas, fashion, creations, and wit when I browse., but I’m not a good Pinterest person because I’m not artistic, and I don’t have the personality type, patience, or budget to care about details when it comes to crafts. I cut corners, don’t buy all the materials, haphazardly measure, or even if I try my very hardest, my creations come up short, ugly, and unlike the pictured product. I’m okay with this reality. I prefer to create with words more than paint, ribbon, or glue, and live a full life just appreciating the creations of others instead of seeking to make greatness myself.

And yet, I do still try to craft and create on my own- sometimes because I want to and other times because I have to.

This Christmas, we have drawn one name with my extended family and have the parameter of making a homemade gift for that person. It sounded wonderful in September when we drew names and even now, I love and support the idea. We are going to be together in the mountains in Colorado over Christmas and the greatest gift we’re giving each other is time together. The crafted gift is just a chance to show and tell one person what we enjoy and appreciate about them uniquely. I really do love the idea. I do however, feel like instead of just drawing one name, I’ve drawn 5. Oakley has someone’s name and so far he has not told me what he intends to create nor offered to run the errands for supplies. My other two kids have been involved in the creation of their gifts which sometimes is really helpful and other times adds 5 steps and extra clean up.

This weekend, I let the mental and creative stress of the ideas, shopping, and creation of these heartfelt homemade gifts absolutely stress me out. I ended up grumpy and felt like family-crafted-Christmas might not be very fun after all.

Obviously, I was letting stress, anxiety, and lists steal my Christmas joy, peace, love and expectation. What is meant to be a precious, powerful, albeit crowded and chaotic family time together in the mountains, (24 people in a house that sleeps 18), should not be consumed by doubt, worry and doom over my (un)crafty gifts.

Just this morning I realized the bottom line…while wiping Oakley’s bottom in fact. I was in the bathroom wetting a wipe when I looked to the wall with the clock to see what time it was. Instead of our yellow bathroom wall clock however, now hangs this sign:

I took down the clock on decorating day and hung the joy sign.

This morning I realized it didn’t matter what time it was, how much time was left before Oakley needed a nap, how much time before my coffee pot went cold, or how many minutes of morning productivity were ticking away. What mattered was that I choose joy.

Joy in the midst of whatever the circumstance, craft, cookie, or child. Joy over and against angst. Joy, not jealousy. Joy instead of being overwhelmed or stressed out. Joy because I have so much to be thankful for, so much to look forward to, so much right in front of me.

Hopefully, this week, instead of measuring time and glitter, I will scoop out, settle into, and share JOY.

PS- To come full circle, that sign is actually a “create your own” Christmas craft that I never did anything to- it’s supposed to be painted or something…I like it white, and so it stays, simple and untouched.  

****This post, as usual, is longer than I set out for it to be. If you’re short on time, skip to the last paragraph- a summary of the whole shebang.

Sometimes- mid-diaper change, half stuck between the van and the garage wall, running towards a peeing baby who’s not wearing a diaper, or up late listening to sad screams, I wonder, “Am I making this harder than it has to be?” Yes, is the answer.

I use cloth diapers without owning a diaper sprayer or a cleaning service, which means I pick poo off the diaper and flick or flop it into the toilet, often getting it on my hands, and now, often while playing defense to the wee pooper himself who follows me into the bathroom. Cloth diapers are more difficult than paper diapers, but I like them for many reasons. Not using a liner, not using a rinsing sprayer, and not shutting the bathroom door behind me so Oaks can’t follow- those are just actions I take that make the day a little more challenging.

We bought a used mini-van and we want it to last a long time. Like all mini-vans made in the past decade, it has dual-sliding doors. Anything electronic or automatic on a car seems risky to me-  what if it stops working? The fix looms expensively in my imagination. My practice is to relegate the back seat passengers to using only one sliding door and using it sparingly. No extra opening or closing please. This means Eli and Andi crawl in and out under Oakley’s car seat- they don’t seem to mind and have been trained that we don’t “waste” door openings. I have been known to crawl back, unhook, and crawl back forward with baby in tow, just to avoid opening the door. While knocking my knee on the steering wheel and careening to make sure Oakley’s foot isn’t trapped in the console area, I think, “It doesn’t have to be this hard.”

Currently, Oaks has a diaper rash. I am year-round supporter of “air time” (buns sans diaper), and mandate it during a rash. The price I pay for “air time” ranges from a small pee puddle, to a smashed in poop pile that requires hours of carpet cleaning rounds, and a bath for a baby with poop foot. Once again, if I had just put a diaper on him, all crises averted.

Last night Oakley started crying at 11:05pm. Often we will binki him back to sleep right away. He’s not a great sleeper, never has been, and we are often inconsistent parent sleep trainers.  For some reason last night, it seemed like enough was enough and we resolved to let him cry it out. Oakley kept up a constant cry for over an hour, at which point it became intermittent, until it was all quiet at about one hour and 25 minutes. Parental agony. There are fewer things in my life as a parent that makes me feel as bewildered, frustrated, worried, defeated, very sad for my baby, and in complete question of all I know of limits and love.  It was really hard. Hard enough that after falling asleep at 12:30, he slept all the way until 7am.

Actions are motivated by deliberate choice or subconscious habit. We move through life on purpose and other times, without thought. Because I can get easily overwhelmed, I sometimes have to ask myself if it’s “worth it” to be doing what I’m doing. In addition to the occasions above, the question comes when:

-I’m raking my maintenance-free lawn for the third time this fall…leaves, they just keep falling.

-I’m up at 5:16am for Crossfit, scraping off the ice-caked windshield.

-I’m shopping at 3 grocery stores for the “best deals”

-I am trying to go to the bathroom or do my hair with 1-4 extra bodies in the bathroom (we have a “don’t lock the door with only family in the house” policy on our one, shared main floor bathroom)

-I’m making conversation with a teenager I don’t know at a Young Life event- while we’re both wearing tacky 80’s clothing.

-I’m rinsing out a peanut butter jar to recycle it

I don’t list this list because I’m better than anyone else or because my lifestyle befits any praise. I am simply reflecting that there must be some thing that directs my motivation. Why do I do things if they are difficult?

Sometimes the answer is clear:

-Raising children is difficult- It’s also wonderful, fun, and what God has given me to do…no real choice here in doing it or not doing it but plenty in how  I do it.

-The difficulty in Crossfit generates results. Intensity creates mind/body/muscle change, accelerates fitness.

-Making cookies from scratch is hard (hardER than buying them at least) but that’s what my mom always did and that’s what tastes the best.

-Living in my small house creates challenges but Drew and I agree this is our place to be until we can confidently move out and on.

-Having my neighbor kid over in the morning before the bus pick up raises the volume and chaos level from a 6 to a 9.5. But I say yes because I can offer my time and house to a friend who needs help. It costs me relatively nothing and affords her vocational sanity and less money spent on childcare. The 40 minutes of crazy can be hard but I believe I should say “Yes” to her request for help.

To do something difficult requires conviction. When I think over the list of what I do, over and over, that causes me angst, I can attest that I do those things because I believe the end is worth the means, the effort creates a desired outcome, the risk will make a reward, and the discomfort will produce something lasting, and shape me in the process. I think one of the most sure-fired ways to grow and develop is to do the very things we find difficult- the things we don’t want to do. When we push the margins of our experience, the limit of our limits, or the walls of our precious paradigms, we become more whole, more diversified in our health, our abilities, and our appreciation for others. Here’s to heavy buckets of recycling, long hours at the gym, deep agony over the development of a child, and persistent prayers for laying down my pride.

Looking back….

– I missed posting last week because of the overwhelming list of to-dos on my plate that day. Instead of writing, I wandered and wept- sat paralyzed by all there was to do and what little resources I had physically and mentally to do it all. Thanks for the pass last week.

-Update on the “Letter”. I did send the letter to the Coleman family. I have not received anything back- including the letter marked “Undeliverable- Wrong Address- Return to Sender” so I take that as a sign that the message is on its way somewhere. Thanks for the encouragement.

Moving Forward…

I didn’t like feeling like I felt last Monday, boo-hooing about all there was to do in the days that comprised last week. In reality though, I couldn’t shake it. I was exhausted and what I knew to be true in my head, was not affecting my emotional or physical “get er done” abilities.

All I had to do last week were good things. Events, meetings, work, and fun was scheduled. I wanted to do it all, knew it was good, and dreaded it all at the same time. Added all together and coming on the heels of being out of town all weekend however, the load was hefty. So last Monday, I had Oakley, a house filled with remnants of creative play by my kids that leaves little bits of anything, everywhere, an empty fridge and a long list of what was ahead.

I don’t like being stuck, feeling overwhelmed, or wallowing in my own self pity. I’ve complied a list of what I should think, do, pray, or say when I’m in such a defeated state:

To pull myself up out of the “There’s too much!” pit, I often try:

1. Reminding myself “I’m in the 1%”- I don’t have real problems- I have power and privilege.”

2. Remembering “Jesus loves me, is with me, is for me, and goes before me”

3. Being thankful- giving thanks when it’s difficult to be thankful can be very transformative.

4. Going outside

5. Exercising

6. Asking for help.

Last week, I couldn’t think or talk myself out of it (numbers 1-3 did not cut into the paralysis or tears), so I went on down the list. Oakley and I took a hike on the Amity trail. It was a beautiful fall day and being outside and active with my sweet baby brought me up. Then, I asked for help- I called on my community, I laid myself bare. I talked to Drew on the phone, had Michelle come by to help in the moment, and scheduled help from Laura on Wednesday, and the sweet Evans’ girls on Friday. Sanity was seeping in.

By the end of the hike, I sat and made a list of what really mattered and all that I had right then:

• Friends- namely that day- Miss Michelle Graves who came right into my mess and made my powerpoint!
• The world’s best husband
• Smiles from Oakley- full-faced and frequent
• Notes from Andi- handwritten by her tiny hands from her huge heart
• A remark from Eli from the day before to Drew and me. He stopped mid-bike ride and turned to say,  “I’m glad I have you guys”
• My health- recently returned

Writing down the list helped. Then I did what Crossfit coach, Manny, and natural birthing expert, Ina, have taught me to do in the middle of dire straits: force my face to smile. When one smiles, one’s self brightens. I smiled, spirits lifted,and the week happened.

Here’s the photographic proof that I made it through, Jesus was present, our Halloween party is a highlight of our family year, and fall in Missouri is a piece of heaven on earth!

Can you guess?

Student Staff Retreat relay team number 1

Coves North Fall Beauty!

The Sollars’ family was good looking, sneaky, and sweet!

Poppy from last year and Hula Girl. These two get the prize of finding costumes while their life was packed in a moving truck and they were inbetween houses!

Oaks was a great little monkey- his current crawl made the costume come alive!