Get it out of my brain

I have a child who I find it particularly hard to connect with.
I know....... you're all shocked.
I'll give you a moment while you silently remove my "mother of the century" label from my contact in your phone and text your besties "Did you hear the one about Chrissy.....?!?"
It makes me feel like a failure. And maybe I have failed in a lot of ways so far this morning.

Anyway, this child.
He's a pleaser. He is a perfectionist. He tries WAY too hard.
He whispers when he asks for something. He insists others follow every rule, even some he made up because he thought it was a rule I'd like. He uses phrases he's picked up in the wrong timing like "Hey mom, at least lunch was delicious!"
It has been known to drive me to the brink of insanity and make me say things like
"I just wish ONCE he'd break a rule or do something wrong so I would know he's really a child!"
I know some of you are parenting a child like this...
and you're laughing or maybe just solemnly nodding. 

Whew.
Moving back towards the point... last night I was given a small gift.

Ahhh, the "golden hour". Some refer to this time period as that magical few minutes when the sun is just creeping below the horizon in the evening and everything is bathed in its glorious golden light... when photos look magical and sparkly and have starbursts of light in the trees. For me, it's those few moments when I tuck the 9 younger kids into bed at night and they give me that last piece of information for the day. I've written about it before, but last night I was given some insight into the WHY behind the crazy-making behavior.

I walked into the room just as this particular child was chastising one of his brothers and saying he was going to "tell mom". Gotta love it. I asked what was going on and when I found out that (as usual) it wasn't tattle-worthy, I asked him why he thought he should tattle or try to get his brother in trouble for something that wasn't a big deal? He answered.. "I don't know... I just thought..." and trailed off in thought.

Then, as if God himself gave me this picture in my brain, I said "Hon, WHY are you always so WORRIED about EVERYTHING?? You live your day WAaaaAAaaaY up here (hands up above my head - frantically shaking)... 'ohmygosh Mom is going to be mad at me! Ohmygosh what if I do something wrong!!' and I want you to bring it WAAaaaaAAAaaay down HERE (hands out at mid-waist - smoothly washing back and forth)... and just relax... breathe...it's all going to be okay. Do you understand?" (This is a very important question when dealing with kids who didn't speak English until they were mid-Elementary school aged.) I could tell he didn't fully get it.

So I walked over, knelt at his bed and said - "You are SO worried all of the time... wanting everyone to follow all of the rules, wanting Mom and Dad to be happy with you, but when you are so scared and worried and 'way up here'... mom and dad get worried and frustrated and get 'way up here' too. Do you know why you are so nervous all of the time?"

Then...
I got this small glimpse.
A tiny, itty bitty little glimpse into the world from whence he came.

"In my brain I just still think like I was when I was at the care center. I just still remember the nannies and they were not nice and I just can't stop thinking about them not being nice and I get scared and think I have to be very, very good. I don't think I will ever get it out of my brain." and he started to cry.

I share this not to give too much personal information about our children... as I have not mentioned names or given specifics as to which child I'm referring to. I share because, sometimes we don't really SEE why the behaviors are there. I know I knew on a very logical level that he was pleasing in order to feel accepted, but I had no idea the depth of that fear. And I'm his mom. It's my job to know.

So... I looked at him, touched his face and said...
"Oh, honey. That's not okay with Mom that you're sad. I'm going to help you get it out of your brain. Do you know that the way they treated you was wrong? The way they treated you was not kind. The things they said were not okay. Those ladies were NOT your Mom. They were just women working at their job. That's all. They may have made sure you had food, but they did too many things that hurt your heart, and that's not okay. Jesus is going to get this stuff out of your brain. Did you know that when Mom and Dad got to the care center and we brought you out of there and to the guest house, that was the first day you were really ours? You weren't the "care center boy" anymore. You became OUR boy and got OUR name. That was the OLD you. This is the NEW you. We even gave you a new name, didn't we? That's because we want you to be able to say 'that was the old life, this is my new life.' Those things happened to you, but they are over and done and far away now."

At this point, I'm stuck between anger at the life my kids led for a year and such happiness that they don't have to live that life anymore.

"Any time you feel afraid, or feel like your brain won't let you forget how you were supposed to live at the care center, I want you to pray inside your brain, right where you are, whatever you're doing - 'Jesus, I don't want to be the care center boy ANYMORE! I want to be my Mom and Dad's son. Please change me.' Can you do that?"

I empowered my son to rid himself of the fear, anxiety and distrust he's been living with for so long now. I taught him to lay his stuff at the feet of Jesus and that he doesn't HAVE to be stuck in that place anymore.

What an immense privilege. 
What amazing power we have as parents.
And yet, often times we don't use it. 

And, as I have said a hundred times before...
Because he can't say the words without smiling.
And I know inside he gets warm fuzzies.
Because I do, too.
I looked into those weepy eyes, smiled, and said:

    "I'm my mommy's baby. 
              My mommy loves me. 
     I am precious. 
             I am a treasure."

And he smiled and simply said  

"Yes."

I was a cloud.

I just turned 37 this week.

Let's let that sink in for a moment, shall we? Yikes. I don't "FEEL" 37... not sure what that's supposed to feel like anyway... but I think the years speed up after your early 20's and somehow you wake up one day and you're closer to 40 than you are to "young and stupid".

I was thinking about that this morning when I woke up.

I've come a long way, baby!

Once upon a time, I was a pissed-off teenager. I was the oldest of two, my parents divorced then remarried, I became the oldest of 5, and my inner control-freak was fuuhreeeaking out.
I was scared.
Fear looks like anger sometimes. At least it does with me.
They are my synonymous emotions.
Fear/Anger. Usually those closest to me can't tell them apart.
So, I looked angry.
I was mad at my parents, mad at their new spouses, mad at myself, mad at life, mad at God - whoever I deemed Him to be at the time, and mad... well, just because it was easier that way.

Pissed-off teenagers are even more stupid than regular, happy, well-adjusted ones. They make other people miserable. They ruin family events. They ruin the best days. It can be 70 degrees, sunny with a light breeze, great music playing and no pressing events to tend to... and one single pissed-off teenager can screw it all up.

That was me. The screwer-upper.
I remember when my mom coined the phrase "you are such a cloud!"
Ouch.
But it was so incredibly true.

My parents were worried about me, with good reason. I consistently made poor choices. I hung out with the wrong people. I stayed out too late, snuck out, broke rules and broke laws. I was your everyday, ordinary, cliche delinquent teenager.

I married my husband at 18. We thought we knew what love was. We thought we were SO smart and independent and wise beyond our years. We were both strong-willed, first-born, tough-as-nails, independent people. We thought we had this whole thing figured out.
He was far wiser than me and we had a conversation one night under the stars that amounted to "if we get married, it's forever. There's no exit plan. Deal?"
Yeah, I told you we had it all figured out.
Except not. 


For years, we struggled. We were head-strong kids playing house and learning that love is a decision and a choice. It wasn't always easy, but it has been worth it always.

However, every time we got together with my family - even though I was married, had kids, and was living differently for all to see - I was reminded of what a horrible kid I had been. I felt reminded of my poor choices, my poor lifestyle and all of my mistakes. It made me angry, it made me embarrassed, and it reminded me that my family hadn't magically forgotten all of my sins...any more than God had. And He knew them ALL, not just the public ones everyone could see. I'd never be forgiven. I'd never be able to move on. I'd never live down the junk in my past.
I was marked, sealed, finished.

Fast-forward a bit...
we were living in Colorado Springs, land of beauty so amazing you just look around and know that none of this could have ever possibly have just accidentally happened. Glorious blue skies - bluer blue than anything you've ever seen, giant mountains that seem to guard you from whatever is on the other side... it's very small-making.
One day I remember standing in worship realizing how screwed up my life had always been, wondering if I'd ever really meant any of those times I walked down front, got sprinkled, dunked or re-dedicated. I just knew I wasn't really forgiven.

I realized I was tangled, trapped, caught, sinking, drowning in the weight of my history and I was struggling to even gasp for air. Emotionally it reminded me of the time I was caught in an undertow in the Atlantic. The panicked struggle, the fight, the smothering weight of fear. It's so incredibly heavy.
I felt like a fraud.
I felt like a failure.
I needed help.
I needed a rescuer.
I needed a hero.
My husband couldn't save me. 

This is when if this were the Bible it would say "but God..."

Being an independent, strong-willed, first-born, tough-as-nails 20-something means you figure things out on your own. I didn't want to hear what the pastor said... he didn't know my story. I didn't want to listen to whoever was speaking at Women of Faith that year. She didn't know me personally.
I prayed. I listened. I changed my radio dial to the Christian Music station. I absorbed those truths like I was being marinated in them. Slowly, slowly, slowly... my frantic gasps for air became life-giving breaths. My panic began to slow. My brain could reason again. I was able to hear, feel and speak to the Lord. The Holy Spirit was audible and palpable in my heart. I heard him louder than my failures, louder than my doubts, louder than my fears. When I felt myself again sinking back into the waves of failure, inadequacy and regret... I would hear "Take my hand. I've got this." I would breathe deeply the truths I was learning. I would shake off the ropes entangling me, dragging me back into the depths, and I was just so thankful to be rescued.

So for those mommas and daddies out there parenting that first-born, strong-willed, tough-as-nails kid... don't give up on them. Love them in the middle of it. Speak truth into their lives. Tell them you love them anyway. And that you always will. Assure them of their value. Assure them they are worth it. Pray for them. Then pray for them some more.

And me?

This past summer my mom told me about how she had always been praying for me. All along. In the middle of the junk, the angry teenage years, and beyond. She told me that she'd given me over to Jesus and just asked that He wouldn't let me get hurt beyond repair. It was the first time I'd heard her heart in that way.
And she told me how proud she is of who I've become.

All of those years, I thought she didn't care. I thought the "cloud" she saw when I entered the room was a storm cloud. Maybe she did. But, now I see it was the cloud that was blocking me from being ME. It was a cloud of fear, doubt, anxiety, lies and anger. These things don't come from Jesus. They come from the enemy.

Now that I'm all old and junk  37  I can see that God TRULY does work ALLLLLLL the things together for good. It may not feel like it now. It may look hopeless. You may be saving up so you have bail money when you need it or just praying to get through each day with your child. You may still be that child.

I'm here to tell you... He saves.
He saves you, he saves me.
You call, He answers.
And... oh yeah, He forgives.
All of it.

I'm living proof.

And I'm no longer a cloud.

I was fought for all along. Not just when I realized I needed rescue, but before that too. Way back in the beginning. I was rescued and saved for a purpose. For a time such as this. I'm going to do something amazing someday... even if it's done in my every day... and at the end of that and in the middle of it too, I can say "all because of Jesus."

So, I'm sharing with you the words that meant so much to me, still do. The verses that bring me peace, that give me a sense of worth and value.

Psalm 18: 1-19

I love you, Lord, my strength.

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;

my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,

my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise,

and I have been saved from my enemies.

The cords of death entangled me;

the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.

The cords of the grave coiled around me;

the snares of death confronted me.

In my distress I called to the Lord;

I cried to my God for help.

From his temple he heard my voice;

my cry came before him, into his ears.

The earth trembled and quaked,

and the foundations of the mountains shook;

they trembled because he was angry.

Smoke rose from his nostrils;

consuming fire came from his mouth,

burning coals blazed out of it.

He parted the heavens and came down;

dark clouds were under his feet.

He mounted the cherubim and flew;

he soared on the wings of the wind.

He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him—

the dark rain clouds of the sky.

Out of the brightness of his presence clouds advanced,

with hailstones and bolts of lightning.

The Lord thundered from heaven;

the voice of the Most High resounded. 

He shot his arrows and scattered the enemy,

with great bolts of lightning he routed them.

The valleys of the sea were exposed

and the foundations of the earth laid bare

at your rebuke, Lord,

at the blast of breath from your nostrils.

He reached down from on high and took hold of me;

he drew me out of deep waters.

He rescued me from my powerful enemy,

from my foes, who were too strong for me.

They confronted me in the day of my disaster,

but the Lord was my support.

He brought me out into a spacious place;

he rescued me because he delighted in me!

Where have you BEEN!??

Oh, hi there!
This may have been the single longest blogging hiatus in my humble blogging history.
Sorry 'bout that!

July... we had an extra baby friend visiting while my friends were in Lithuania bringing home their newest baby boy! He was with us for 18 days and was absolutely the most adorable distraction to everything else I probably should have been doing!

Also in July we found a house to buy! As soon as my sweet baby friend's mommy and daddy came home we started packing and we moved August 2nd!

The first two weeks of August were unpacking here and cleaning/painting/repairing at the other house to get it on the market, which happened mid-month, and then in testimony to the amount of hours spent cleaning/painting/repairing at the old house... we were under contract in 11 days! Woohoooo!

Also noteworthy...
We (hello, my name is "We") started homeschooling.
(I'll give you a moment to address the irony of this while reminiscing over this post from last fall)
HOWEVER, I still totally stand by what I said in the original post. And I saw some of that from the homeschooling mom pages I'm on when school started back. "All of these moms celebrating that their kids are going back to school today... it's so sad how happy they are to just send them away!" HARSH! And GEEEEZ... I was a twinge jealous of those cute Pinterest-y chalk board first-day-of-school photos! AND, this year I would have just two kiddos at home during the day. Those grocery carts that look like race cars seat two kids. See how easy that would be?? Yeah. I GET IT! But, right now, this is the season we are in.

And, truth be told, it's slightly fun.
I may even be enjoying portions of this season.
                                                                 But don't tell anyone. 
...more on home school later.

So...our new house!
We bought 15 acres with a great house that was a foreclosure property... and with that got apple trees, blackberry bushes, walnut trees, a run-off pond, 14 Muscovy ducks and assorted critters that live in the woods! We also got mystery wiring, a few leaks, some drainage issues and vintage appliances!
But it's awesome and we love it.
We've already put up a tire swing and the trampoline, picked 150lbs of apples, gone shooting shotguns in the woods.

So, the baby duckling needed to be separated from the others.

 

S'mores... yummmm

Giant hydrangeas by the front door

Hiking in the backyard

Muscovy ducks

The kids found this cow bell and tag in the yard

Bringing some crushed moving boxes to the fire pit

Boys + fire

Boys + mud

Boys love turtles

Applesauce!

 

So... that's where I've been!
More updates and topical stuff soon!
-Chrissy

Being a chef's wife

My husband wished me a Happy Anniversary (on facebook...from out of town) by sharing this blog post written by a chef on "what you need to know before marrying a chef".

While I can definitely identify with a lot of what the chef/author said, there's quite a few benefits to being married to a chef that I'd like to point out... on our anniversary! (I love you, honey!)

• Two words: Burre Blanc. 

• No one else has three compartments in the fridge dedicated to strange looking jars of sauces "just in case the mood strikes" and someone really wants (for example) Vietnamese food tonight.Neighbor calls asking for hoisin sauce? Why of course! Black sesame seeds? Done.

• Him: "What are you in the mood to have for dinner?" Me: "Pteradactyl! Make it happen!"  Him: "Second choice?" Me: "Something that I want." .......And every single time this happens- it's always exactly what I didn't know that I wanted. 

•  It's a major benefit to have someone around who can dice an onion in like 3 seconds...and doesn't mind doing it.

• I can text or call when he's at work to ask super important stuff like "does millet have gluten?" (no) or "how many minutes on these boiled eggs?" and he always has the answer. Faster than google. (okay, maybe not faster than google... but more reliable than clicking through results.)

• He's used to cooking for a bazillion people so he has taught me how to think more like a chef in cooking large quantities of things. I was still buying the little cans of tuna until he showed me where they have the giant ones! He also was the first to buy the 40lb bag of brown rice and convinced me to buy fruit by the case from our local co-op. 

• Yes, sometimes my favorite nutmeg grater disappears when he's doing a competition somewhere... but we do have more kitchen gadgets than a small gourmet shop. I have 4 sizes of ice cream scoops, two types of microplanes, multiple cheese slicers, spatulas in every size and material... and a lot of things I don't know how to use.

• When he complements my dinner, it's a REAL complement! He's got a dozen initials after his name, judges other professionals, certifies new chefs... and so when he sincerely tells me something I made is really good, those are the complements that really matter!

• He may see no problem with the super expensive cheese or dry-aged-for-longer-than-makes-sense-to-my-brain cut of beef... but he can also take a few leftover chicken thighs, some random condiments and whatever is in the pantry and make lunch for all the kids with some kind of leftovers to put in the freezer for another night. I see "we have nothing to eat here..." he sees "Mystery Basket!"

 So, yes... being married to a chef means lots of nights alone, permanent markers in the washing machine, criticism on how you store items in the fridge, no offers from friends to come over for dinner, and being given bites of food and told "just taste it... don't worry about what it is"....
but they are passionate, artistic, creative and driven. They see solutions. They can tell sole from flounder, fresh from frozen and point out menu errors for sport. They tell great war stories about a super busy night, that lady who ordered the well-done filet, or the myth of the 40-hour work week, and wake up saying "I just dreamed my next menu item!"

I've been blessed to be married to an amazing man who happens to be not only an awesome husband, friend and father to a dozen kids who think he hung the moon... but he's also a chef, and a really good one, and I'm very thankful that he chose me!

Happy Anniversary, sweetheart! I love you!

The magic of the one-year mark

If you adopt a child you'll hear "just wait until it's been a year..." or "you won't really find your new 'normal' until one year at home" or "all of this stuff will be a distant memory once you hit the one-year mark."

Oh, the hype.

Let me clear something up for you, sweet unsuspecting momma.

There is nothing magical about hitting that circled date on the calendar except that you survived and everyone survived along with you.

At the one-year point your child (consciously or not) may remember the year before, the trauma that happened, the loss... and grieve again.

At the one-year point you may be disappointed in your level of attachment. Them to you, or you to them.

At the one-year point you may be still struggling with lies, sneakiness, language barriers, trust issues and resentments.

At the one-year point you may still be grieving the life you had before.

At the one-year point you may believe the lie that "this is as good as it will ever get between us"... and it may be your marriage you're talking about.

At the one-year point you may be struggling more than you were at the one-month point and feel like a failure.

At the one-year point you may still be "one day at a time" surviving.

And it's okay.
It IS normal.
It will get better.
It may not ever look like you thought it would... but it can be beautiful in a different way.
This is not the end of the story. The story isn't over until the day you meet Jesus.

It's called being a parent. Parenting is sacrifice. Not in the "ohhh look what awesome people we are for our huuuuge sacrifice" sort of way, but in the daily "this sucks but I'm doing it anyway because I know what's right" kind of way. Every time you respond with patience and kindness when every fiber of your being wants to snap and look like a guest on Maury Povich... you've sacrificed. You've grown a tiny bit and you're becoming better. Every time you look up, give your full attention and don't send the child away but listen to the story about the pretzel that looked like an A or a V depending on the way you turn it... you've made progress. You're getting there. You're doing it. Bit by bit. Day by day. Moment by moment. And you're succeeding!

It's been one year since we brought our 5 home and yes, there are still struggles! Yes, we love our family! Yes, I still snap and freak out when someone uses the wrong verb then makes it plural. Yes, I fail and toss and turn at night thinking about how my children will only ever remember me losing my junk over the 15th spilled drink of the night or the time I wore noise-cancelling headphones while eating dinner because they could NOT for the sake of their lives and mine use their inside voices.

But then I have little successes:
a boy comes all the way back inside to give me a hug before school because he forgot;

one tells a sister to 'go get mom to help you' instead of being the parent this time;
"Mom! Did you see me?!" and I did.

And I realize... we're doing it.

It may not be magical at the one-year point... but I'm here to tell you that the 2 year mark is coming. Then the 3-year. Then the point will someday come when your child has been in your family more than they ever weren't... and THAT is magical.
No, that's redemption.