Charlotte's letter.

Dear Goose

We just found out this week that you have to have four teeth pulled. *sigh* Hopefully this will not continue, but for some reason you seem to attract issues of the medical sort. We have had our share of small things, as any family with 5 kids would. We have had ear infections and the flu, busted lips (Taylor takes first in that category) but with you it has always been the big stuff. It seems like you have taken in the task of breaking us into this parenting thing as any good first born would do. Goodness. So far you have been the only one with stitches, you got the bog bite to the face, you had to have your tonsils out, had to have the baby root canals (whatever those are called), the broken nose, and now these teeth that are coming in just wherever they feel like it... The one in the roof of your mouth is actually pretty impressive. Daddy is now calling you his little shark. My goose, you take it all in stride with your determined logical personality and I am so proud of you. I feel like the air has left my lungs when I think about you tuning 7 next month . Has it been that long already? Have I soaked it all in enough? There are so many moments I wish I could just freeze somehow and take them out to enjoy again whenever I need them. I love you so much. You are smart and beautiful and so strong. The Bible says that children are a blessing and it is so true you are. I have no words to tell you how much we love you.

I have wanted to write your story for a while now. You and Taylor beg me to tell your stories all the time. Usually you ask at night, right after I get you all tucked into bed and am about to leave your room. I know you are partially just stalling - not wanting to go to sleep, but I love those quite moments with my girls. I love when you ask me about when you were born, because I like to tell you how much you were wanted. I want you to know how much we prayed for you and what an amazing day it was when we got to meet you. This is for you. I'm sorry it took me almost 7 years to write it down.

I guess to tell it right I have to start at the beginning with Me and Daddy. When we first got married we moved from Oregon (where our story began) to Homer. We wanted to take a year off of school and just be married before we dove back into everything. We lived in a little apartment most of that year and Uncle Joshua and Uncle Devion used to come over all the time and I called them "my kids" because I kinda fed and mothered everyone. It was a fun crazy, busy, wonderful few months being "us" for the first time, but we knew our family was supposed to be more than us. And, your daddy and I are not the most patient people. We knew we wanted kids and it seemed kinda silly for us to wait to have them when we couldn't think up any reason to. Daddy took a job working on a charter fishing boat that summer so we could save money to go back to school and we started thinking and dreaming about you. We were overcome with curiosity about what you would be and what you would look like; a little of both of us and a whole new person at the same time... It helped a lot that daddy was looking so nice and buff and tan after a summer of crazy hard work (someday you'll understand), but it didnt take long before we found out I was pregnant. We were so excited and nervous and happy... I think its the first time I ever experienced the enormous jumble of emotions that you get as a parent. You were Gods first answer to our prayers for a family. 

We found out you were coming right as we were getting ready to go back to Portland for  school. We announced that you were on the way right before we left and the whole family was super excited. Your Grandparents and Aunts and uncles couldn't wait to meet you. But it would be a while. We left Alaska for Oregon - what a  trip through Canada! I was sick the whole time and the slight differences between American and Canadian food became HUGE to me. There was a the meatloaf- like "burger" disaster in one place, and there was that store where I got laughed at when I asked if they had bagels... But, we made it eventually and we got settled back into school. Daddy got a job as a valet and juggled that with his full-time load of classes. We were involved at church and hung out quite a bit with aunt Lainey and Uncle Jeffrey. Honestly, now that I have all of you, I cannot remember what I did all day at that point. I remember your daddy working his tail off coming home from school, changing into his uniform and running out the door again while I handed him a plate of food and sobbed that I missed him... But, mostly I remember waiting for you. I remembered being enraptured when I first started to feel you move inside of me. I still laugh at the day we were over at Aunt Lainey and Uncle Jeffrey's and I had a cup of coffee resting on my belly which you weren't to happy about. You kicked it so hard, I almost lost my mug and Aunt Lainey screamed and we all started laughing.

I remember my friend Nicole came over to my apartment almost every night and kept me company while Daddy worked. We watched almost every chick flick known to mankind and consumed massive quantities of Ben and Jerry's. I remember when Aunt Joelene and her dad came to visit us. I was huge and Randy said I was beautiful. And, we spent a night playing Settlers of Catan and talking about you. So much waiting. That part is unique to you. With the first baby, the waiting seems so long. I worked a job for a few months around the holidays, but aside from that, it was just waiting. Daddy took me on walks every day. We walked to the bipartisan cafe for coffee and we went up and down the stairs of Mount Tabor so many times it was ridiculous. When I got closer to my due date we would go to Lainey and Jeffs and go on walks where all of us would squat every few steps. It was supposed to help me go into labor, but we didn't know at that time that your mommy never goes into labor on her own on time.

Two weeks before your due date Grandma Jill came down with Aunt Melissa and Hannah to wait for you and together we walked more... and more and more. You were due on April 15th and, though everyone thought you would come early, you made us wait almost a week past that. On the 19th I started having timeable contractions and we went to the hospital full of anticipation. Nothing was happening very quickly though, so the doctor advised (of course) more walking. I bet altogether I must have walked 500 miles to bring you into the world... Maybe that should be your song... "500 miles" 

We went to the Target that was in front of the Hospital and I clearly remember that. Rows of clothes and groceries and camping supplies with red advertisements and having to stop and breathe through contractions at the end of just about every one of them. I remember your daddy pointing out a sale on sleeping bags at one point... ha! Eventually we went back to the hospital and they tried to help me sleep because we were pretty sure you would be coming within a few hours. It was a long night. It gets kinda blurry for me at about this point because labor wears you out and that night I had an allergic reaction to the drug they gave me to help me sleep. By the next day I was worn out and fully feeling the pain of my body trying to get you out. Everyone told daddy I would be mean, that I would say things out of pain that I didn't really mean, but I remember being in a world all by myself. I wasn't angry or mean I was just in my own place and my only link to the rest of the room was your daddy. I remember his eyes close to mine through every bit of it and everything else just fading away except the pain. Daddy said I didn't say a single word for 8 hours straight. Then a miracle happened. A while back my mom (Grandma Barbara) and Grandpa Rick told us that they were moving from Michigan to Oregon right around the time you were supposed to be born. They had started driving with their car all loaded up the long way across the country just a few days before I went into labor and they thought they were going to miss your birth. But, they drove into Oregon on the 20th. They came straight to the hospital and I saw Grandma walk in the door almost exactly one hour before you were born. The trailer and car were still all loaded up with their things in the hospital parking lot. I still marvel at that. That feeling you have, when you are hurt or sick and you just want your mama... that doesn't go away with age. And, I was at that point. Dilated to 10 and about to start the hard work of pushing you out and there she came walking in the door. I can't even write it without crying. God knew I needed her and there she was. You were born that night, after 36 hours of labor, with your Grandma Jill on one side and your Grandma Barbara on the other, Aunt Lainey and Daddy. 7 pounds 12 ounces and absolutely gorgeous. I will never forget how we all cried and loved you when you were born. We had no idea what it would be like because you were the first, but you took our breath away. So beautiful and wide eyed. You were calm about it all then as you are about things now. No crying, just staring with those giant beautiful blue eyes. Daddy took his shirt off and held you against his chest and fell head over heels. What a room full of love. You were worth every second of waiting and walking and labor. 

We took you home and spent the next few weeks soaking in every bit of you. Before classes were over for the semester we took you to Multnomah to show you to everyone and everyone was so excited to see you. Daddy's C.S. Lewis class had prayed for you all during my pregnancy and when they met you they decided we should do a baby dedication right then and there. As far as I know you are still the only baby that was ever dedicated in one of Dr. G's classes. It was a special moment that I will always treasure. When classes were over and you were 6 weeks old we packed up our little family and moved back to Alaska. Not long after that we found out that your little sister was coming, but I remember when it was just the three of us, though it was brief. It was so sweet - our first taste of family. We have been hooked ever since. I love you baby girl.

Love, Mama

Birth

Reading for pleasure (or reading at all) is a bit of a luxury for me these days. Obviously. But, when I do get the chance I sometimes like to float around the internet and catch up on some of my favorite bloggers. One of them is actually somewhat famous for her birth stories and I stumbled across one of hers just the other day. Apparently we had our newest babies only two days apart. She really got me thinking as I read her latest story. It is a good idea, I think, to write down the story of our children's births. I haven't ever done it before, but they are always hanging around my mind as I watch them grow. I see how they do so much for themselves now, how they learn new things everyday and I remember how it was when they were just like my new little Luke. So tiny. So dependent. So new. I remember how it was when I first fell in love with them and how each one made their way into the world in their own unique way... The girls ask me about it all the time. "Tell me mama how it was when I was born." And, I watch their big blue eyes sparkle while I tell them. They know it's special and it's theirs and they don't ever get tired of hearing it. I think I need to write them all down. I want to keep those memories while they are still so close, before time fades them and fuzzes them all together.

So, I'm thinking about a series of posts... 5 to be exact. The stories of my babies. But, I imagine it wont be easy.

Births are emotional. And, its not just the hormones. I haven't ever really written about it before and I wonder if it isn't because its just too much to think about putting into words. I confess that the end of my pregnancies aren't super complicated. I don't have babies on time without intervention, so usually there is but one emotion: crabbiness. When you're done, you're done. Amen? The feet in the rib cage. The shooting pain that accompanies every sneeze and cough. Being asked all the time why you haven't had that baby yet. The fact that it takes a three point turn to roll over in bed when your leg falls asleep and its time to switch the pressure over to the other one. Its all these magical things working together that help me get past the fear of labor to the point where I will do and endure just about anything to be done with the whole pregnant thing.

And, then it all changes.

That little baby comes into the world and I feel like my ability to feel grows to the point of swallowing me whole.  Loss, gain, love, peacefulness, joy, fear...  all these mix together till I don't feel big enough to hold it all. My skin seems a poor container for so much. The fullness of pregnancy is nothing to the uncontainable flood that hits after. I always wonder particularly at the sense of loss I have after a baby is born. That is the one I haven't ever fully understood. The rest of it makes perfect sense, the fear and the love... You thought you knew what those were. You thought you felt them as much as any human could, and then your heart expands... so much... and with it comes a new little fear you haven't felt before, that maybe you won"t be able to do this job. That you aren't capable and that baby seems so fragile and helpless. "Mother" suddenly seems the best and most terrifying word in the world. And, that, I understand. But the loss? Its not that I miss being pregnant. Its something deeper than that and a bit harder to put one's finger on. Maybe it's just the fact that this little person who was so connected to me, that we breathed together and our blood flowed together, is now a little more separate from me. I am more aware than I want to be that it is just the beginning of many more great and little lettings go. And, it puts a dull achey feeling just at the back of all the joy I feel. They are mine, but only in a manner of speaking. I can't keep them forever and that seems unfair to me somehow. I wonder if they will understand how much I love them and how much we wanted them. I know I can protect them and take care of them to an extent right now, but there is a whole future of imperfect unknowns ahead. And, there is the fact that they are their own little selves and someday they will get to choose how much they want me... Is it just me or does every mother feel like a whole life of possibilities for their baby plays out in their mind in the first few days you see their little face? It doesn't last forever, and that is good. We obviously can't live there. We get swept up in the stuff of it, as we should. Diapers and feedings, watching the involuntary squinchy faces they make, kissing cheeks, check ups at the doctor office, measuring how they grow... Till one day, much sooner than you expected, they are older and you are talking with them and they ask you to tell them how it was when they were born. And, then you stop and let yourself go back.  You feel it a little again while you tell them their story, the one that began in you... It is too much for words.

My newest one is only nine days old today. I remember how it was when my other babies were this little too. What they say, about it going too fast, is true. It does. I realize that more with this baby than I think I did with the others. I have come a long way since our first baby was born. And, maybe all this is just another bit of recovery for me. I know, as an addict, I have made a habit of trying to numb feelings. Where the normal distractions of life haven't worked, I have turned to other things, but a big part of recovery is letting yourself feel again, even the uncomfortable stuff. I have told God before that I am scared of that. Somedays it seems like standing in front of the Hoover Dam waiting for it to come down and blow me over. But, I have learned that there is something very beautiful about letting yourself feel. To be fully and completely exposed to that much and not in control of it, not distracted by other things... just breathing it in. I let myself just stand in the thick of it this time, with Luke. I just tried to feel it all - the whole wonderful jumbled mess of emotion that happens when you have a baby. And, I thought about my other babies and how I want them to know how they have affected me and changed me, how special it was they day we first met them and how much we love them. So, I will write their stories one by one and maybe it will be a treasure for them someday... to read it and learn how precious and valuable they are to us. I think it will be beneficial to me too. It is easy to forget those treasured newborn moments when you are dealing with toddler tantrums and girl drama. I could do with a little reminiscing.

On resolutions

Plus organizing lessons from a former mess

Generally speaking, I don't like New Years resolutions. I am one of those people who posseses the, not so uncommon, gift of self-reflection. You start asking me about the things I would like to change about myself and I could give you a list a mile long. I have a list of things to try, a list of things to stop, a list of things to get better at... Its all long term stuff too. And, my experience with "resolve" is that it is a short term plan. It's a sprinters sport. Resolve is that thing that gets the guy who catches the pass into the end zone. It's when one of my babies is hurt and I need to jump into action and not burst into unproductive tears. I had to do this just recently when I was by myself with the kids and Charlotte fell and broke her nose. I got her up of the floor grabbed a rag and some ice for the bleeding, called my best friend to come watch the other kids and got up to the ER. Resolve. Yep. And, it lasted only as long as it took for her to get looked at and for us to get back home. As soon as that girl was in bed I collapsed in tears. Resolve has eveything to do with short term energy and no worth whatsoever for the "pace yourself" parts of life. Experience has taught me this. Failure has taught me. Addiction has taught me. So, resolve? I will save that for the things I absolutely have to do right now. Its serves us well for the unexpected moments but wears out quickly and leaves us drained. 

Long term change, growth, that is another story. I wrote a while back about how I did not start out being the most capable person on the planet. I couldn't figure out how to clean my room let alone a whole house. I didn't understand words like "organize" and 'schedule". But, life has taught me. Every new experience and change has been an opportunity to learn how to do it all a little better. Progress not perfection and one day at a time. I remember feeling like a failure at early points in life and trying to cling to that reslove thing to change myself long term. I will now be organized!!! I will live on a schedule! May as well have required my self to know molecular physics... right now. Art came naturally to me, daydreaming, imagination and almost nothing else. It's still the way I am, but I have, very imperfectly, learned to work at the other stuff. And, it seems like it is really starting to make sense. One of my biggest goals for myself  is to continue learning and getting better at this "organized" thing. I have picked up one or two tricks here and there and am little by little adding them to my life. Sometimes I forget, sometimes I regress, but, I have made enough progress that I am firmly rooted in the belief that it is worth while to keep at it. I have examples!
(If you are a naturally neat and organized person some of my revelations will, no doubt, seem small and ridiculously obvious, but I will put them out there anyway. Try to understand)

1. When I leave one room for another and I see something that belongs in the room I am going to - I pick it up and take it right then.

2. If I empty the dishwasher when it is done (not when the sink is full of dirty dishes with no place to go) it's way less time and effort. I can load it up as we get dishes. This way I'm spending 2 minutes at the sink here and there, instead of an hour when I finally get tired of it.

3. I work better at jobs I hate when I time myself. Sounds dumb, but if I am standing in front of  a pile of clean laundry and I start the timer on my ipad, all of a sudden I have the motivation to get it done quick. Now I'm racing me. Doing this, I learned that it takes me only about 5 minutes or less to fold and entire load. From that, I have learned to have a better attitude about laundry. I have five minutes at the end of the day. No problem. It helps when it doesn't look like Mt.Everest.

4. Give me a present. Okay, so I got through school today. I kept up with the house a little at a time and thus retained a sense of visual calm. I folded a load of laundry and gave it to the kiddos to put away before bed. Then, after they went to sleep, I did one more five minute job, swiping down the bathrooms while Scott cleaned the kitchen and dinner things. Now I sit with my computer and my feet soaking in a concoction I learned how to make on pinterest. I paint my nails and watch something on netflix and I don't feel guilty doing it like I would if the house looked like a torpedo hit. 

These are a few of the things I learned one at a time by doing it all the hard way first and then discovering what was easier. Not resolve, just patience and a desire to learn. The new thing I am working on? I got a planner and I'm using it. I know you probably got one and used it and learned how to function without it by high school, but again, this is me, Mrs. Organizationally Challenged. I was inspired to do this when my friend showed me the one she got from the Erin Condron website. It's pretty dang awesome and custom made to her specs. I might be ready for that next year... maybe. But, I'm doing pretty good so far with the one I got. Maybe if it works for me I'll splurge on the nice one next year. I mainly have trouble keeping track of "To-do" and "shopping" lists. And for planning out things like dinners - which you need to do when you are doing groceries on a budget and when you are too busy to think about it every night. So, I kind of custom fitted my organizer with "Post It" notes. It's slightly tacky, but I saved myself $50. Here's what it looks like...

In the front, I rubber banded an envelope for keeping receipts I need.

Then I have the whole month spread out with events at the top and dinners at the bottom. I put in a lined sticky note for my "Month To Do" list and have been happily crossing things off the list. (Usually my "to do" lists are spread between the counter and the fridge, my purse, pockets...) 

My week pages are for more detailed day to day: what I want to do with the kiddos for school, appointments etc.

I also put a sticky in my weekly section for a grocery list. I usually do my grocery shopping on Monday when the girls are in ballet, so I get my list based on what I wrote for meals. After I get the stuff on my list, I throw out that sticky so it isn't in the middle of my schedule and I put a new one in the next weeks section. This way, when I run out of things in the kitchen during the week, I can add it to next weeks shopping list before I add my meal things to it.

So, that's it. This is my goal for 2013. I guess you could call it a sort of resolution, but for me it's more just taking some of the things I learned over the last few years and keeping them all in one place. Baby Steps. We'll see if it helps enough that I am still at it by December. 

I can’t stop

Scott asked me yesterday if I was nesting and I responded with a very defensive and hurt sounding, “No!” (Meaning,  of course, “Yes”) He just laughed at me. It’s about that time and he knows it.  We’ve been through it four times already. Eight months pregnant and I go crazy. It’s like I get a different set of eyes. My house is probably cleaner and more organized than it has been in a year and I can’t see it.  I know that on any normal day if my house looked the way it does right now, I would be super happy and feel extremely accomplished. Not today. It just looks like one giant mess and a never ending “to do” list. 

Me cleaning tonight was like the, “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” thing - the weird pregnant version.
I told myself after the babies went to bed that I would do one or two things and then sit and relax. I believed in myself too. I really did. Yea, it didn’t happen. I did a quick clean of the kids bathroom and then put a load of laundry in and noticed that I had a dry load to fold. Did that quickly and thought I was just about done. But, as I was taking clean towels down to the kitchen, I remembered I wanted to vacuum the furniture. Just one more thing... I went back upstairs and grabbed the vacuum, noticing on the way down that the picture frames needed dusting (made mental note). Picked up the toys downstairs, took apart and vacuumed the chairs, couches and the rug. Fabreezed it all with the antimicrobal Fabreeze - just to get it extra clean. Noticed the floor needed sweeping. Swept. Noticed the floor needed mopping. Mopped. Noticed the cupboards needed wiping down. Wiped the cupboards down. Happened to see that the base trim needed scrubbing. Was horrified to discover I cant reach the base trim and breathe at the same time. Felt like sweeping again. Swept. Put the last dish or two in the dishwasher, wiped down the counters, noticed that the stove needed cleaning. Removed burner covers, cleaned stove. Noticed dusty appliances, wiped them all down. Noticed the fridge was looking a bit dirty, wiped it down... resisted the urge to open it and start on the shelves...

At this point, Scott, who had left for a bit to load a truck for a Saturday job, came home. The second he walked in the door, He said “Wow” and gave me that, “You are nesting and you know it” look. 

Me,“I can’t stop.”

Him, “Yea, I knew it when I asked you yesterday...even though you said you weren’t” 

It just looks so filthy to me. I pretty much know that I won’t be satisfied with it unless we move everything out, sanitize it all and move it all back in, cleaned, organized and clutter free... which isn’t going to happen. Its a good thing we are going up the road for the day tomorrow or I would be scrubbing walls and starting on the touch up paint. I’ll get to it eventually. I have gotten at least that far with every pregnancy. What can you do? I’m a crazy person. I don’t do the weird food in the middle of the night thing. I don’t get mean with my husband or do many of the other stereotypical pregnant things... But I seem to make up for it all in NESTING. At least it’s only a few more weeks.
I finally did get to bed. I grabbed the dirty towels from my escapades downstairs and brought them up to the laundry (stopping only to dust the picture frames I mentioned before) and then collapsed on a heating pad with my computer to write about my insanity. *sigh* There just aren’t enough clorox wipes, dust rags, magic erasers, or vacuum hose extensions in the world to satisfy me today. 

On a lighter note...

Wow. So this is 2013. This is the year I will turn 32 and have my 5th baby. It’s amazing how NOT older I feel... 

Anyway, I had something I wanted to share. A little less typical for me. I love to write about philosophy, parenting, the Bible, politics, etc. This one is a little less ...mmmm... that. I’ll just come right on out with it. Skin care. Yep. First blog of 2013 and I am diving into an issue that is only skin deep. Oh well, what can you do? I’m a girl. I think about these things.

So, Once Upon a Time, I had really good skin... as do most babies. But, then I hit puberty and thus started the awkward battle with hair and skin and nails. Goodness, I was a mess. I was the kid that got the short boyish haircut that made the waitress at the restaurant ask, “And, what would you like young man?” Yes. It's a fabulous thing for a kid struggling with low self-image to hear. I also bit my nails disgustingly low and, most of all, I struggled with acne. Eventually I learned to get better haircuts and quit biting my nails, but the skin issue - that war waged on. 

I tried everything. SeaBreeze. Remember that? The whole regimen of cleanse, astringe (yes I made a noun into a verb), moisturize. I tried the oxy pads, the zit cremes, I even went to a dermatologist at one point. They assured me I had legitimate acne issues and gave me the prescription strength version of all the above mentioned things. I steamed, exfoliated, cleansed and I also faithfully scoured 17 Magazine for the secret that would help me look like the pretty girls on the cover who probably never saw a zit in their life. I eventually tried Proactive and had a somewhat scary allergic reaction to it - it triggered my asthma. I remember random days of clearish skin here and there when I felt like maybe I was on my way to the other side of all this, and then it all came back. I’m guessing hormones and teen stress contributed, however, I was never able to find that one miracle acne product that actually worked. 

But then, there was this day...

I think I was 18 or 19. I was reading a magazine editorial and the lady writing it said she rubbed Vaseline all over her face every night before bed. I remember wincing at the idea and closely reexamining her picture. How in the world could this be that woman with the perfect skin? It was so counterintuitive. It threw out the science presented to me in every commercial and ad I had ever seen for problem skin!! She said something about skin needing oil (the audacity of such thought!), and that harshly stripping it makes it react with zits and blotches etc. A few days later I remembered all this as I was doing my routine: scrub face with chemically soap, rub alcohol-like substance everywhere to zap any remaining oil, apply water-like “moisturizer”, follow with spot creme, then Epiphany! This wasn’t working. It never had! Though, I was so faithful to it all! I felt robbed and cheated and I made a very rash decision (no pun intended). I washed it all off, pulled out a jar of Vaseline, rubbed it in and went to bed. To my surprise I was not one giant zit when I woke up. So, I continued to do this (whenever I had the guts) and astonishingly my skin slowly started to clear up. Eventually I replaced the Vaseline with other more, natural oils. Coconut and vitamin e became my favorites. And, I even had the gumption one day to toss the acne treatments and cleansers in the trash where they belong. I have some scars from years of mistreatment (that are slowly fading away) and every now and then I get a little break out, but my skin has never been as bad as it used to be since I made the change. Oil is good and natural is better. Who knew?

I guess at this point I should insert a picture of me with no make up. I normally don’t do this because people see the paleness and usually ask if I am feeling okay. Yes, I’m fine. I just cant get a tan...no... I’m not a vampire either. I would post a before shot too, but I wouldn't even know what box to start looking in. 

          I know some of you may have heard a story similar to mine, but I wanted to put it out there anyway. I am not a scientist or a doctor. I just have my own experience and some information I have gathered through a bit of research. There are many people out there learning how to improve their skin with oil, and not just coconut. (Here’s another similar story.) EVOO is great for skin and hair, castor oil, grape seed oil... Simply put, our skin is an organ. You can’t dehydrate an organ and expect it to function properly. I spent several years battling my skin and only made it worse, then one day I decided to be nice to it and it responded. Seems logical. As a side benefit, I have also saved quite a bit of money on not buying skin "care"  products.  Every now and then I try new moisturizers (mostly my free Sephora samples) but, I have never found anything that works as well for me as coconut oil so I always go back to that. 

            It’s my personal favorite because it is super light, it melts in your hands and it absorbs quickly. It also has some pretty powerful anti-bacterial qualities, and smells fabulous. Did you know you can even clean your skin with it? Seriously, the stuff is amazing. I hardly ever wash my face with soap anymore, and if I want to exfoliate I find other things in my kitchen...coconut oil or honey mixed with cinnamon or sugar or salt...  straight up baking soda... All that stuff is so much better for our skin and it costs virtually nothing.

           The point? I guess I just want to throw this out there as a possibility for someone who may be where I was. If the skin care section at the store has let you down... you don’t have to keep going back... shhhh. :)

           Try something new and see what happens. I spent way too much time stressing about this early on in life. I wish I would have figured it out a bit sooner so I could have maybe focused on more important things. Maybe try being nice to your skin this year. 

       My head is ringing today. I can’t imagine what it is like for the people in Connecticut right now. The parents... I hear my own babies playing and laughing, fighting with each other over the Buzz Lightyear toy... They go on, just having a normal day, blissfully unaware that 20 kids their own age were recently murdered. Our tree is up and presents have started collecting underneath it and I can hardly imagine being one of those parents who will have to deal with unopened gifts. Its just too much. I can’t imagine it and I don’t want to. But, I feel like I need to do something. I need to hug my babies. I need to tell them I love them. I need to reevaluate priorities. And, I need to resolve some things.

In just this last year I have heard so many horrific things. I have heard a protester screaming about the “parasitic” nature of humanity infecting the earth. I have heard well known atheist scholars talk about how we are all the product of a cataclysmic accident and that to pretend there is purpose in life is to delude oneself. I have heard so many say that there is no such thing as “truth”; that morality is subjective. I read just recently in Margaret Sanger’s book, Woman and the New Race, how the most civil of the world’s uncivilized societies are the ones that practice infanticide... Interesting that these ideas are silenced on this awful day, how they slink to the background as every sane human being is horrified and stunned. 

We teach our kids that life has no purpose, they are an ugly infestation on a beautiful planet, that there is no real thing as good and evil, there is no God and therefore no ultimate consequence for action. Life is not sacred and valuable... We tell them these things and then stand back in terrified disbelief when someone acts out the full extent of these beliefs.  Why? Because, we know it is so very very wrong. We know it in a place that is too deep to disregard - in a part of ourselves we cannot turn off. Every day in the animal world predators pick off the sick and young and helpless and we think nothing of it. But, when a group of 20 kindergardeners is gunned down, everything inside of us twists and groans in disgust and horror. Because, we know, at least for this one moment, that LIFE is VALUABLE and PRECIOUS. We feel deeply, all of a sudden, that we were created with purpose and there is, very definitely,  “right” and “wrong”.  Our gut should not tell us these things if they weren’t true. As CS Lewis said, “Consequently atheism turns out to be too simple. If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark.” If there was really no point and no such thing as morality, how differently would we all be responding to this day? 

Go ahead and call me deluded, but this is my resolve today: I will teach my kids that they are valuable and they do have a purpose. I will teach them that humanity is NOT just a parasite that needs to be eradicated. I will tell them that life is precious and should be protected. It is from God and it “IS”. Life does not “become” because someone chooses to allow it. There will always be people who think that they get to define what life is and what it is not. They falsely elevate themselves when they presume they have the authority to choose which life is worth preserving and protecting and which they can snuff out because they don’t personally value it. We have their examples all around us. But, they are wrong. I will tell my kids that these people are wrong. God created life. He gives it meaning. I will tell them that there is truth, there is right and wrong... And, they will not be confused when their gut involuntarily reacts to pure evil as ours did today. They will know that their sense of justice is rooted in reality. Hopefully they will teach their kids the same. 

Pulling Weeds

I am at a loss with this one. I keep writing and rewriting in an attempt to sort through the heaping pile of information I have been taking in recently. Stories I have heard and conversations I have had, books I am currently reading, some articles, and observations... Many of these things at first seemed completely unrelated, but I am starting to see a connection that I am hoping is something both true and worth pointing out. I definitely have had my own emotional reactions to all of theses things, but I’m not too interested in talking here about my feelings on any of them. I would rather explore a bit what is under it all. I mean, otherwise I am just writing about my personal reaction to this persons reaction to such and such a thing. I have already done a lot of that, in conversations with my husband and several other people who were probably just innocently asking me, what they thought to be, a simple question like, “Whatcha readin?” Yea, I should have probably just given them the title and moved on. Sorry Everyone. 

The hard thing for me now is knowing where to start. Do I tell you about the conversation I had with a friend who is trying keep her head above water in a colliding sea of differing Christian theologies? How she grew up one way and then was thrown into another and is now on her own and seeing the water is even deeper and more vast than she thought? Do I tell you about the books and articles I am reading? There is that one book which is unpacking the viewpoint of victimology. There is the book by the famous pastor who has discovered the only real and genuine way to be a true Christ follower is in this one specific place, and the other author who has found the same thing, but in a different place. : / ?? There is that one lady who is a bit of a conspiracy theorist who gave me the books about how this pastor used to study under this one teacher who was friends with this other guy who sometimes has books for sale in New Age book stores. Or, there are always the stats; the stats (specifically about the American Church) that we use to motivate our Christian walk. The ones about how many people really truly believe this, or live that, or stick it out. I feel like I want to write a bit about each of these things, and maybe I will eventually, but I think I want to start somewhere else. I want to start where this all began to make sense to me, where all these vastly different things seemed to sink into a common mold. 

Matthew 13:24  Jesus told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’“‘An enemy did this,’ he replied.“The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’ “‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’”

The kingdom of heaven is like this. And, we can tell. We look out on this field called the Church and we know that not everyone is genuine. We know that some people are “playing a game”. We know that some are hypocrites, some are materialistic, some have little strength to stand, some have an inability to let go of this particular thing to grab ahold of God. Some have tempers, some have addictions, some are self centered and arrogant. We can see it. After-all we are human too. So, we run back to the Master and ask if we can pull the weeds and He says, “No.” Why? Because we, with our imperfect eyes might accidently pull up some genuine wheat. Pretty simple. When God told Samuel to anoint David (the smallest son of Jessie) as the future King of Israel, he read the bewilderment in his prophet and said, “The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1Sam 16:7)

All of these things started coming together for me when I realized this week that I think we really struggle as Christians with the desire to pull weeds. We are bothered that God did not give us the clear vision to always tell the genuine from the fake. In fact, He has also told us in many places that we can even be duped by those who look very much like the real deal, but aren’t at all. Remember Matt 7:22 where people stood to tell God all they had done for Him, and He says He doesn’t know them? Or what about 1 Cor 13:1-3? It says there that people can be capable of utterly amazing things, things I would think impossible without a genuine heart. It talks about people giving away everything they have for the poor, or having incredible wisdom, or speaking the language of angels... but they can do it all without love and it is worthless. Wow. The fact is that we are not very capable of judging the thoughts and hearts and attitudes of the people around us. Clearly, if it were up to us we would throw away the good and keep quite a bit of the bad. But, we struggle to give it up. Maybe because it is a little too uncomfortable for us. Maybe it makes us squirm a bit in our seat when we have to think that a genuine believer might just be in that Church we have cast off as too backward or legalistic, or even that God is using that whole Church in some mysterious way. Maybe we cant imagine how the Americans with the big house and the multi-million dollar company could possibly be hard-core lovers of Jesus. Maybe, we don’t see how that homeless man on the corner has anything worthwhile to give to the kingdom, or how that small group standing outside smoking before church starts has any evidence of “fruit” in their life...

The thing I see in scripture is that Jesus is the only man who has ever walked this earth with clear eyes. He addressed each person at their specific need and, where people were willing, they were changed. Sometimes it was obvious to outsiders and sometimes, not so much. Zacheus, for example, was a man of some standing and reputation. When he became an honest man and started paying people back what he had cheated them, it must have been staggering to his community. Everyone who came across him later would surely have marveled at the “honest” tax collector. But, Jesus also approached the man with the legion of demons, and after He helped him, it says he was just...dressed... and no longer insane. For him the “big” change was being normal. Not much visible fruit to see a man wearing clothes. We wouldn’t even notice that. But, for him it was immeasurably huge. I’m sure it was a testimony to those who knew him, but what did he look like to everyone else? Just Mr. Normal, I guess. If we don’t have the ability to see the heart of a person before Christ, how can we hope to accurately judge what transformation looks like for them after? And, this says nothing of the process of sanctification, maturing, growth... We often judge where people are at without knowing where they come from, when for some people just being dressed and sane is a mountain-sized victory. Obviously, there are Biblical parameters but, generally speaking, we tend to try to measure people by the details we see.  

Maybe it has something to do with the way we encounter Him ourselves. God reaches out to me in powerful and blatant, vivid ways sometimes and I walk away wanting to share that experience with someone else.  I want to meet someone who was blown over and carried away by the same conviction or scripture. Sometimes, He shows me a place in the world where there is a need because He has been working on and designing me to step into it. But, what I am tempted to do when I see it is to scoff, “No one else is here?! Does no one really care?!” And, that leads me to a poor assessment of the Church as a whole. The deficit God let me see becomes a way to start pulling weeds. I have done it before. In the various ministries I have been involved in I have often stopped to shake my head at the “apathy” around me for this particular mission. I have often seen a soap box from which to judge the rest of His body, when I think maybe He just wanted me to fill a need He had crafted me specifically for. Am I the only one?

I am wondering if maybe this is why I have read so many different things and had so many conversations telling me that the true test of my faith is not seen in my individual obedience to Christ or my willingness to go where He has asked me , but rather my heart and calling toward “this one” specific area where God is concerned. Maybe that is why we have little theological add ons to the Gospel. Yes, it’s by faith in what Christ did for you to reconnect you to God, that you are saved. But, the real way it is evidenced can’t just be as simple as being say, clothed and sane. The true evidence is when people do this, talk like this, pray this way, move over here, give up this, not look like that... Wow. All of a sudden we have this fabulous little way of seeing perfectly what God said we couldn’t. Its dangerous to go there. 

We just want to pull weeds so badly, but God says we don’t know the harvest well enough. There will be surprises. There will be people who knew Him that we didn’t see, and some we were convinced of who didn’t. There will be some who had the foundation, but everything they built on it was worthless when we thought it maybe looked so valuable... I think maybe we should fire ourselves as weed pullers and focus on growing instead. Here we are trying to sift and narrow down the kingdom and He asked us to multiply it!  We can trust Him with the field. He is the one who makes things grow. Who knows, maybe if we obey Him wherever and whatever he calls us to, the people in the body who need to see Him in the same way will catch the vision simply by the way He uses us to light up that place.