a special morning greeting

My alarm clock

I have not set an alarm clock for a few years now. Who needs to hear that annoying, startling, obnoxious beep or a strange song on the radio that somehow creeps into that dream you are having, when you can wake up to a little voice saying "OK mom, lets do snuggles and cuddles!" While it is super cute to have this face wake me up each morning with a cheery little greeting, I admit that many mornings I am wishing the greeting came at least an hour later.

This morning my 3 year old morning greeter chose a different approach. I started to wake up when I heard the familiar sound of a small set of feet creeping into my room. Instead of her usual proclamation of "snuggles and cuddles," I was met with, "Mommy, I have a surprise for you!" I slowly opened my eyes, curious and concerned at what "a surprise" might entail. There was that smiling, cheery little face with no pajama pants on and a naked butt, standing right next to my bed holding up a single square of toilette paper very proudly. She continued, "Its a little square! For you to wipe my bottom." Lucky me. I could see how proud my little morning person was of herself for taking off her pants, going to the bathroom, and delivering that amazing single square of toilette paper to my bedside. Even though wiping some one's butt is not my idea of the ideal "wake up call," I'll take it today.

Let the rain fall

I am thinking about rain today. This is the rain on my porch today.

In a reflection from Ginny Owen's about her song "Rain" she writes,

"...in order to experience a loss or walk with someone through their suffering, we must acknowledge and even accept the rain as part of the process.I don’t think that we’re meant to become completely comfortable with rain; if we did, we’d be too intense and melancholy to do anyone—including ourselves–any good. But experience has taught me that it is good to be familiar with rain—respectful of its reality and mindful of its necessity in our lives."

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more later.

Being reminded

Piles

I like this. Press play.

Piles. LOTS of piles. A full weeks-plus of throw-up, diarrhea, fevers and sickness has put us a little behind schedule in the "keeping up on things" part of life. Before that it was strep (Happy Easter) and before that ear infections and fevers. So basically April was a blur. It actually sort of blurred together into one giant "sick day." And so the piles I began back in the beginning of April, the "we just moved" and the "unpacking" piles are still in their temporary homes, a month later. Only to be joined by piles of you name it-papers, laundry, items to distribute into other locations, items that need a home and have not yet been given one...etc. Why does it feel like the"we just moved and are still trying to get settled and unpacked" excuse seems to have an unofficial expiration date of 30 days? I feel like it should have a full year until expiration, so I have gone ahead and taken the liberty to renew it for 11 more months.

I have always been a piler. As a child, teen, young adult, college student, full adult-I have always had to pile everything on my bed to clean my room. Its just what I do. I pile everything on the bed, which becomes the mass distribution center. From there I usually form smaller piles on the floor until I am left with a few totally random and annoying items-you know the ones.

I always end up with a pile of papers and mail. I have a perfectly wonderful filing cabinet that is the eventual home of most of my "paper pile," but most of the organized items originate in the pile. I am not ashamed of this piling mentality. Its who I am. I am a piler. In college my roommate/bff and I regularly had a room filled with interesting and not so interesting piles. Random passerbyers often liked to comment on the "situation" especially around the dorm check time of the semester. They often shared blaringly obvious insights-"Wow, you have a lot to pick up..." You think? I will admit that many times the piles became a bit large, but we passed every single one of our dorm checks, unlike some of the neigh-sayers. Eat it dorm check trash talkers! Why? Because we knew how to clean...most of the time! I will admit we at times, had to take drastic measures and form piles in hidden locations to be dealt with later when time was of the essence. But for the most part, we are both excellent cleaners. We may not be the tidiest or most consistent cleaners, but we can clean circles around anyone...when we chose to, of course!

The thing about piles, is that you have to deal with them eventually. Sometimes things pile up, and I think that's ok. Piles happen. Its dealing with those heaps, and how you deal with them that's the important thing. There are certain piles you don't mind taking on. They are quick and easy, you know you can break them down fast...and then there are others that you are constantly putting at the bottom of the list because they feel huge, overwhelming, you get a headache just thinking about going through them. It doesn't matter how nicely you hide them or temporarily store them, because you know they are there. Until the pile is un-piled, it remains a pile.

I was thinking about what that means in my heart and mind. What do I have stored away, piled up that needs to dealt with? I can think of a few things. Sometimes its hard. Because sometimes when you start to go through a pile to sort things out, things get messier before they get better. The great thing is that we have access to the best professional organizer ever! He's even better than that guy on Oprah, Peter Walsh. I am always forgetting that He's (God, not Peter Walsh) pretty good at prioritizing, organizing, and dealing. Why is it so hard to really ask God to help us clean house, to sort through the piles, to deal with the mess?

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I was listening to this Beth Moore videocast the other day, and the speaker was talking about hearing God's voice, and knowing His voice. She was comparing it to how it feels when that person in your life calls you and you just KNOW its them. By the ring, by the way they answer the phone. You just know. But you only know that, because you know them. You have spent time getting to know them, getting familiar with them and their voice.

I think I put God in this little box and then expected Him to do huge things on demand, and when its convenient for me. I don't even know what to say but that, but that.

"Jesus never reacted in anger to sinners who knew they were sinners. He confined his anger for sinners who thought they were somehow exempted from judgment because their particular vices were hidden in their religiosity. It's just not the case; neither is it for us. May we vigilantly guard our hearts! May we constantly come back to the Lord and ask him to wash us clean, make us pure, and make us wise. And may we never lose the simplicity of one heart pouring itself out in love onto its Beloved..." -excerpt from interview with worship leader/song writer Aaron Keyes

Pain

(This is what I was listening to when I wrote this. Great idea Ang, since I am always listening to someting!)

I am in pain today. I have a throat infection. It hurts so bad to swallow. What started out as a small sore in my throat has slowly crept across my whole throat. It hurts. I even got tested for strep today which came back negative. So, I have been gargling salt water, drinking tea, poppin' advil, and swallowing through the pain. I wanted to write something today about my cute little 3 year old admiring the "daniel lions" in our front yard, but the truth is that I cannot stop thinking about my pain. I know it is mind blowing to imagine me, someone who has insanely been staying up until all hours to get things done to get sick. But I am human. Living in a human body, with human consequences.

I think sometime we feel invincible, especially when things are going good. But sometimes we can crumble so quickly when something painful or unexpected arises. We can become fixated on the pain and it can consume us. I think it is amazing to hear from people who are grown, successful adults, who are STILL holding on to childhood hurts. Clutching the pain fiercely but wanted to be rid of it so badly.

I think we are all dandelions at some point in time. Masking the weeds inside us with a false beauty, trying to blend in with the other flowers out there, but its all a facade. That bright and cheery yellow is sometimes masking deep wounds, sadness and pain.

Isn't funny when we look for every remedy, every validating philosophy, ever "cure" for our own pain instead of just looking to the ultimate pain manager, the ultimate pain alleviator for help? I do it all the time, which is why I am writing this. Because I need to hear it. I need to remember where real relief comes from. The relief is not always immediate, and it can be a process. But in the end its worth it. The real cure.

Seeing

I got glasses in the middle of college. It was sort of lame. I felt like my eyes were crossing when I tried to read or type. Its possible that my staying up until 3am with my roommate on a regular basis had something to do with it. Within a year of getting my glasses, I lost them. I know exactly where I left them-the Bethel College libary, lower level. When I went back for them, they were gone. Seriously, who steals someones lame reading glasses? I never replaced the glasses to this day. Its a good thing I don't do a lot of reading. Ha! Sometimes I wonder if I would see better if I had some? Sometimes I wish I had a pair of glasses to help me to see things more clearly in this life. Wouldn't it be great if you could get a pair of glasses to help you to really see? To see past things you can't see past, to help you see more clearly the aspect of a situation you just can't comprehend, to see when you are so stressed, tired, confused, and frustrated that you can't see straight.

Yesterday my entourage (Aislynn 3.5, Isla 1.5) discovered Wonderlabs, a cool little children's science museum in downtown Bloomington. The girls loved it. Exploring, discovering, running...it was all good, minus the one time Isla dropped down in the bubble room to do what I thought looked like push ups, instead she was actually interested in licking bubbles off the floor. Her immunity really got a boost after that.

I noticed a little girl. She looked like she was somewhere in between Aislynn and Isla (agewise). Her hair was real fine, it looked like it had thinned. Just as I began to process what that might mean she turned and I saw a huge crescent shaped incision in the back of her head. My heart sank at the implications of such a mark. She was playing right along side my two little girls. They were all doing a lot of the same things, exploring, discovering, running, but it wasn't the same. I wished I had a pair of glasses for that situation...to see why?

I couldn't stop staring at the little girl. Not at her battle wound, but at the little girl herself. My girls had just gotten over being sick. I felt a little worn out after wiping noses constantly and caring for two cranky girls with mood swings and colds. This was a perspective moment. Because to me and this little girl's mom, having a "sick kid" meant two completely different things.

The little girl's mom and I exchanged a few half smiles, the way you do with other moms you don't know in public places. Its like that recognition of rank or something. Instead of a salute, we moms just give a slight nod and a smile to recognize our fellow mom comrades. I noticed she had a very tiny very new baby boy in addition to her little girl. I feel like I have been learning some pretty big lessons over the past year. I feel like I have developed more of an awareness. I am trying to be a more intentional and empathetic person. I wanted to give this mom a big hug. I wanted to say "What can I do? You don't know me, but what can I do?"

Before the museum closed our paths crossed briefly. She asked me about a baby carrier I was wearing. She took down my name and number and revealed she was only in Bloomington for a few months while her daughter received proton treatments for her cancer. I wanted to cry. I wanted to say how sorry I was. I wanted to offer to do something. I wanted to say something but all I could do was give an acknowledging nod to her unfathomable reality. She said she would call because she was really interested in the carrier I was wearing, and I offered her to come over to try on carriers. Secretly, I was hoping this gesture might open a door for me to do something more.

We walked out of the museum and I could not stop thinking of this mom, her little baby, and her sweet little girl battling for her life. I immediately summoned the courage to say what I wanted to say, but didn't. I tried to reenter the museum, but they had locked the doors since the museum was closing. I waited outside, trying to look like I was actually doing something besides pacing back and forth like a museum stalker (I don't actually know if those kinds of stalkers exist). I waited. But they never came out. I had not cased the museum, so I was unaware of other exits. I walked away, scanning the scene, but there was no trace of the mom or her tiny entourage.

I am praying that she calls me. And if she does, I know exactly what I will say, "I know you don't know me, but if you ever need anything, any help, a place to hang out, anything while you are in Bloomington, I'm here for you. I know that may sound strange since you don't know me, but I think I am pretty normal and hopefully you can take my word on that. I am a mom and you are a mom so I think we have something huge in common already." I wish I could have said this when I had the chance. But things seldom work out like we plan and our brains usually think a little more slowly than the current situation we are in sometimes. Hopefully I will get a second chance.

I wish I had some really powerful glasses. A pair that would help me to really see...to see what God sees when He looks at us. To see the most important things in life. To see past the things I get caught up in. To see down the right path. To see what He has in store for us. To see what God sees when he looks at that sweet little girl in the middle of her battle. To see straight. Maybe if I get my glasses replaced, I'll ask for that prescription.

PER·SPEC·TIVE

"Its all in the eye of the perspective." The wise words of a high school ex-boyfriend. Actually, they are not wise words at all. In fact, they make no sense. I just can't seem to forget Thomas declaring these profound words. I don't even remember what it was in regards to, but I do remember saying, "That makes no sense!" And him replying, "You just don't understand." Now I can't help but laugh whenever I hear the two phrases "It's a matter of perspective" or, "It's all in the eye of the beholder." I came to the conclusion a very long time ago, that I was much smarter than Thomas Yates.

PER·SPEC·TIVE
Pronunciation:\pər-ˈspek-tiv\
Function:noun
Etymology: From Latin perspectus, past participle of perspicere to look through, see clearly, from per- through + specere to look

I was realizing how quickly my perspective had changed when I was feeling extremely irritated the other morning that Aislynn was whining SO much and not handling well, Isla's attempts to interact. Granted, Isla's attempts to interact are more those of a demolition baby than a playmate. But a mom can only take so much whining and hearing the word "no."

I decided it was time for a change of scenery after it became clear that Isla had a one track mind-climb on top of Aislynn and anything she is playing with. Aislynn had a one track mind as well-whine and yell "no!" over and over any time Isla looked in her direction. I decided to move Aislynn up to an elevated level that would be out of the reach of my little climber. I set Aislynn up to paint at the table, "just like in Miss Mouse's Day," she excitedly pointed out. She was very excited, and began painting away. I sighed a sigh of relieve to have a whine free moment. Which was quickly brought to an end by Aislynn whining about Isla grabbing at her (Aislynn's) feet from under the table. Did I say one track mind! Sure enough, Isla had strategically found a way to still get a hold of her big sister from under the table, she was more than happy to at least have a hold of her big sister's foot.

It was at this moment I realized how much my perspective had changed and how I needed to "see more clearly" or "look through" this situation just a little harder. Months ago, I remember waking up and going to bed thinking of activities I could do with Aislynn to help her with expression, and interaction. Instead of looking at the annoyances, I needed to see the lining around this picture. I have a little girl who whines. A little girl who is aware of her surroundings, her sister, and a whole lot more. 7 months ago we thought this little girl might be autistic. And my biggest fear was that she would not be able to express herself to me. Well these days she makes her feeling very clearly known, both good and bad! Including the feeling "Mom no sing." which was declared today in the car as I was forbidden to sing along to any and every song. I still think whining and complaining is unpleasant, but it is an encouraging reminder at how far we have come. Yes, whining can be an encouragement at times. And my littlest peanut Isla, that wants to be into anything and everything as well as on top of everyone-I am so thankful she is healthy, and mobile, and curious. She is full of life and enthusiasm and I can only imagine what she has in store for us.

I am realizing that a different perspective can breath fresh air into a situation. Even situations that are little and you think are easily perceived, and especially situations that are difficult to perceive. And so today I will try to "look through" all the areas of my life and things I am facing both big and small and see what I can see more clearly if I just shift my perspective.