Roller Coaster Ride

Dan and I have been parents now for 23 years. We have learned so much over the course of time that it''s hard to focus my writing on one area. I guess thats why, when I sit down at the computer and my mind is flooded with so many subject, stories, lessons I can’t decide where to start. 

Today, the beginning sounds like a good place to start. I have often been asked why we have ten children. “Did you start out your marriage wanting ten children?” “Did you come from a big family?” “Are you Mormon or Catholic?” “Are you crazy?”

To answer these questions superficially would be easy. “No”, “No”, “marginally”, “No”, and “certifiable”. But to really give a good answer, I would need to give some back ground. 

When I was six and in the first grade my younger sister, Julie, was born. When I found out my mom was expecting her,  I could not have been more excited. I went to school every day from the time I found out and told my teacher that my mom had had the baby last night. Of course my teacher new that she wasn’t due until January so she would correct me and redirect me to a more “constructive” activity.  

Eventually, the day came. I was in an assembly with all of the first graders and a teacher interrupted and called me to the front of the class. She told me my dad was waiting outside for me. I ran as fast as I could to meet him. He told me the wonderful news that Julie Elizabeth had been born and I was a big sister for the second time. 

I don’t even remember if I went back to school and the rest of the time my mom was in the hospital was a blur. But I have clear memories of the feelings I had when Julie came home for the first time. I just stared at her. She was absolutely perfect. Her skin was the softest thing I had ever touched and she smelled so sweet. I had a hard time keeping my hands off of her. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I didn’t do a very good job, because my parents bought me a kitten in hopes that I would leave my little sister alone. I don’t think it worked, but my little sister survived my “love” and is a beautiful wife and mother today. 

My love for babies didn'’t end with my sister. I would work in the church nursery every chance I got. I couldn't wait to be old enough to babysit on my own. When that time did come, I babysat every chance I got and loved every minute of it. I remember after one evening of babysitting, I was in the car with the children'’s father. He told me how thankful he was for me and that I had a real knack for taking care of babies. His next words still ring in my ears, “Trina, I bet someday your going to have six kids!” I laughed at him then. Little did he know that those words were prophetic.......only he under estimated. 

Many years later, I met my husband, Dan. We fell in love and made plans for a wedding. As many do, we talked about our future; a house and a family. We talked about how many children we would have. Three, possibly four, but that was pushing it. You see, my husband is an only child and, where he saw the value of having more than one, he knew his limits and four was the limit. I was happy with that because there were four children in my family and that worked out pretty well for us, so it was settled; three or four. 

At this point, looking back, I can see God looking down on us and saying, “Oh ye of little faith. I have much bigger plans for you than that.” Of course, there is a reason that we can’t see what God’s plans are ahead of time. If I had been told at that point in my life that God planned for us to have ten children, I probably would have run away screaming. God was right not to let me in on his little secret, I didn’t have enough faith to have ten children. I didn’t have enough patience or strength or courage to have ten. God, in his wisdom, just said “three or four sounds great. You just get started.” And so we did. Jordan came first in March of 1990. Then, as most “normal” people do, we waited the perfect 2.5 years and Trevor was born in 1992. 

Little did we know, that was just the beginning of a breath-taking roller coaster ride. . .

I can hear the clicking of the car as it’s being pulled onto the tracks.

 I feel the anxious anticipation of an unknown ride. . .  click, click, click . . .the upward climb . . .

When Jordan and Trevor were 3 ½ and almost 1, God called us to the mission field. We went to the Philippines on a short term mission. In the days before the trip, Dan and I had many long conversations about God’s faithfulness in His provisions for this trip (which were nothing short of miraculous). We talked about how awesome it was to hear His voice telling us this is where we needed to be, and how amazing it felt to put all of our trust in Him and be led on such an incredible adventure. . . 

the click, click, click of the coaster being pulled further up the hill. . .

But were we really putting ALL of our trust in Him? Dan and I spent hours talking about what it really meant to trust in a God that we believed was sovereign. Had we really given control of every part of our lives to Him? If we could trust God to send us half way around the world with our two little boys, if we could trust Him to provide the finances, if we could trust Him for our safety . . .

click, click, click . . .

. . .then what about our family. What about when babies come and how many we have? I remember the conversation we had one humid night in Manilla, reading through the verses in Psalms 127 that say: ”Unless the Lord builds the house, They labor in vain who build it; Unless the Lord guards the city, The watchman keeps awake in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to retire late, to eat the bread of painful labors; For He gives to His beloved even in his sleep. Behold, children are a gift of the Lord, The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth, How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them; They will not be ashamed when they speak with the enemies in the gate. I remember praying that God would make His way clear and I remember Dan saying we need to put this in God’s hands and let him plan our family. . . 

still climbing, only now I’m looking over at Dan and he’s got his hands held high to get the best ride possible.

 I couldn’t pry my white knuckles off the lap bar and close my eyes tight. . . we are nearing the top . . .

 two months later I was pregnant with our third child. Madison was born in July of 1994. . . 

the descent begins with a rush . . .

I remember thinking that just because we were allowing God to plan our family didn’t necessarily mean we would have more than four children. Again I can hear God chuckle. . . 

and we gain momentum . . .

Moriah was born 14 months later in September of 1995, then in 16 months, Hannah was born, January 1997. . .

the first turn. I loosen my grip and raise my hands high in the air. . .

18 months and Hudson arrived, July 1998. On my birthday in September, 1999 I miscarried our 7^th child . . .  

Our car turns upside down and I am overcome with fear. 

 I grip the bar tight and hold on

By November I was pregnant again, only ultrasounds show it is not a viable pregnancy and we must wait 2 weeks to confirm . . .

Another loop and I'm still holding on

Two weeks pass and an ultrasound confirms that precious heart beat . . .

Out of the loops and I loosen my grip

and in August of 2000 Payton James was born. . .

I manage to let go again and even let out a little scream of excitement

July 2002, Bailey came . . . New Year’s day, 2005 Abigail arrived . . .

This is the best ride ever and it’s not over yet!!!!

Finally on March 30, 2007 Maximus Isaac was born. . .

His birth was very difficult. There were medical complication that let us know that God was closing this chapter of our lives. After weeks of prayer, I had a much needed surgery that would end my ability to bare children. As difficult and painful as the surgery was, there was such a peace. The kind we knew could only come from God. I remember the nurses asking me if I was sad. I said “No. My uterus has served me well and it’s time to say goodbye.” I think I told them I was going to have it bronzed but I might have dreamt that in the haze of anesthesia. 

Our train slows as it returns to the station. I look over at Dan and he looks at me. 

Our hair is a mess, our eyes are watery and we are both out of breath, but we made it!! 

God tells us this ride is over and directs us to the next roller coaster. 

We settle in and this time I’ve got my arms up before the lap bar even goes down. 

This roller coaster is called graduations, college, weddings and even grand babies . . . 

woooohoooo! Let’s go!!!

Marriage is not for wimps

Over the last several months, I have received information that I find surprising and tragic. I have to admit that I wrestle with mixed emotions and sometimes need to fight the urge to hunt these people down and thump them on the head. I suppose that, at my current age and life stage, this is considered “normal” and that makes me want to scream even louder! 

Here’s the problem. Several of our peer couples are splitting up. Ugh! Just writing that makes my stomach turn. The selfishness that this implies just baffles me. Its as if they are saying “Yes, I know this is selfish, but I am going to do it anyhow. Because I deserve better” 

If you are one of those people, you should stop reading now, because you are not going to like what I have to say. 

Here’s an example:( No names and I may or may not mix up which spouse did what.) Married for 20 years, multiple children now somewhere around high school age. Husband works in an industry that has been hurt by the rotten economy. He comes home grumpy and depressed. Honestly, he is not a whole lot of fun to be around. AND the money that used to supply his wife’s necessities (mani pedi, sissy-la-la coffee drinks, “fresh” wardrobe choices) is no longer coming in. There is, however,  still enough money to pay all the bills and keep the kids in private school. Clearly her life is a mess, wouldn’t you agree? Well, if you are her friend and you dare to disagree, your friendship will come to a grinding halt. She will surround herself with people who will “tickle her ears” with only the things she wants to hear. “Oh Honey. You deserve better.” “You deserve someone who....”

Well, there happens to be “someone” at her place of employment who is happy to see her, gives her attention, compliments her clothes, and supports her disdain for her husband...and it happens to be a man. 

I don’t even want to justify this story by telling how it ends. Lets just say...it ends. There are lots of stories just like this one. Tragic stories about wimpy people who quit when things get tough. Most of the time I can excuse them because they don’t know any better. But this case is different. This couple and several others sat under the same teaching that Dan and I did. They heard what God’s word says about marriage and commitment and promises and commitment! Were they just not listening? Were they absent that day? NO! They heard....every....word.

Marriage is a commitment made before God. It is a promise to love, honor and cherish....forever. There are no clauses that say if the going gets tough you can find another option. 

There are only two times in life that God’s will for you will be so crystal clear; Marriage and children. My friends, when you said “I do” you chose a path. You made a commitment to love and honor your spouse. God has made His will clear to you. 

Ladies, there is nothing in God’s word that says love him.... 

if he earns enough money,

 if he is happy, 

if he is nice to you, 

if he helps with the kids

or the house

or the yard

or even if he deserves it. 

We are called to love our husband as if he were Jesus. 

I chose to marry Dan 25 years ago. Dan is an amazing husband and father. He is my best friend. He protects and provides for me. He loves me.....but he is certainly not perfect. We have had our share of struggles; financial, emotional, spiritual... Dan is not always happy, but I choose to love him. Dan is not always nice, but I choose to love him. Dan does not always deserve my love, but I choose to give it to him anyhow. And quite honestly, I am not always happy or nice and Lord knows I  don’t always deserve the love that Dan shows for me. Just keepin’ in real.

So what does it look like to show love to someone who doesn’t always deserve it? 

It means having hard conversations. 

It means not always needing to be right. 

It means letting an unkind word go unnoticed. 

It means meeting his needs even though you might feel at the time like your needs are not being met. 

It means having grace in times that are tough. 

It means looking at the loss of a job as a thrilling adventure and not a scary situation. 

It means choosing to sit down and watch the game with him while the house is a mess and the kids run amuck. It means having a willing spirit when he says “I have an idea!” 

It means saying “its OK,  it’ll work out.” instead of “I told you so.” 

It means not pointing out his weaknesses in order to make yourself feel better.

It means being his biggest cheerleader.

It means considering it a privilege to share his bed.

It means talking to your children about what an amazing man he is.

It means greeting him everyday when he comes home from work like he’s been gone for a month.

I will be the first to admit that I do not consistently live up to this list. I fail on a regular basis, but I strive for this. I know that this is a partial list of the things God has called me to do as the one called to love this man. 

Several years ago, Dan lost his job. He was devastated. He took a risk and it didn’t pay off. He was angry at the world and especially at God. He looked for work to no end. And as time went by, he got very depressed. My response at first was one of support. I tried to be an encourager without being a nag. Slowly, I slipped in the nag trap, and slowly I became angry. I woke up every morning, got the kids ready for the day, and began our school. I was teaching 6 of our 8 children while taking care of the other two who were too young for school. While Dan would sleep in late only to get up and fall back to sleep on the couch (a sign of serious depression). The house was falling apart around us and he was sleeping on the couch. I could have found any number of ladies who would have supported me in my anger and brewing discontent with the man I had married. But I didn’t. God knew what I needed and He was sure I got it. I was involved with a small group of women who knew me very well. We were studying a book call ”Created to be His Helpmeet”. That book was teaching me what God’s word says about my calling as a wife. It was telling me to love my husband whether he deserves it or not and by loving him I was honoring and obeying the God who created me; the God in whose presence I made the commitment to love and honor my husband. 

Sadly, I am one stubborn cookie. I had “I deserve” conversations with God. 

I deserve someone who will help me with the kids.

I deserve someone who will fix things around the house

I deserve someone who will mow the lawns

I deserve someone who has a job

I deserve someone who will take me out on dates

I deserve to be able to go on vacations

I deserve.... 

The “I deserve” game is a dangerous game to play

What was God’s response to my ramblings?

“Trina, you deserve to spend the rest of eternity in the pit of Hell because you are a sinner who falls short of my glory every day. I had to watch my Son suffer and die on a cross in order that you might have the hope of living in eternity.” 

......Perspective.....

Oh Man!! Did I have some work to do. I had to correct my attitude, my thoughts, my behaviors. I began to serve Dan. I would make breakfast for him so it was ready when he woke up, I made lunch for him first and brought it to him on the couch. I Made sure he had what he needed and then, I made sure the lawns were mowed and the weeds were pulled. I did it alone or with the kids. I didn’t do it with any expectations, I didn’t do it with a chip on my shoulder. I didn’t do it begrudgingly. But I did it with a happy attitude as unto the Lord. And do you know what happened?

Dan started getting up earlier. He started helping with the kids, he started looking for work, he started taking care of the yard....it was like a miracle! A happy miracle that I was not expecting. He found his way out of the muck and mire of depression because I was obedient to God. 

It often makes me wonder if I had been obedient from the beginning if maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad, or if maybe things in our marriage would be different. I eventually apologized to Dan for not being the wife God called me to be and therefore effecting our marriage in a negative way. He was bewildered, but graciously forgave me. 

Our marriage is stronger today than ever. Dan is still an amazing husband and father. He loves me no matter what. He loves me when I’m grumpy, when I’m forgetful, when I’m tired, when I’m angry....That dark  period in our marriage didn’t last very long, but we both learned so much and are better because of it. 

My point is this: Marriage is not for wimps. Its hard work. The first thing you need to do to mend a marriage that is in trouble is to look in the mirror. Take a long, hard look at the person staring back at you and decide if you really want what you “deserve” or if you want to delight in the marriage God has given you. It really is that simple. I realize that in the real world there are some very serious issues within a marriage that are incredibly difficult and may need counseling, but it really does begin with a self examination. A time of confession that begins with "I", not "he"or "you". More importantly, ask the God of the Universe, the One who caused the "two to become one" to restore what he created.

And for those of you who have chosen to walk away from a marriage and still read this entire post, seek God, seek help from the one who created you. You will one day answer to Him. 

All of this post was read and approved by Dan

Launching an arrow

Psalms 127:3-5

Behold, children are a gift of the Lord,

The fruit of the womb a reward

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior,

So are the children of one’s youth

How blessed is the man 

whose quiver is full of them.

They will not be ashamed

When they speak with their 

enemies in the gate.

Well, we launched another arrow this weekend. We took Madison to Sacramento to start the next chapter of her life. I can’t tell you how many times I was asked if this weekend was going to be hard for me. The answer to that is more complicated than it would seem. I am thrilled for Maddy. She has been looking forward to this for a long time and I know she will be fine. There will be struggles, of that I am certain. But Madison is one of the strongest people I know. She knows who she is, she knows what she believes. Ask her. I promise she will tell you. 

Madison is my third child and my first daughter. Her older brothers presented us with what I would consider in hind sight to be very normal challenges. We worked on things like obeying mommy and daddy, playing nice, using manners...typical parenting stuff. Maddy was born on July 2nd and that should have been our warning. She is the quintessential fire cracker. As a new born, she was very similar to the  boys. She ate well, slept well, did the same things her brothers did at that age. When she was six months old, Madison had what I thought was a cold. When the boys had gotten a cold, I would just let it run its course and they would recover and move on. This cold wouldn’t go away. She was constantly coughing and was barely able to eat between coughing fits. 

I called the doctor and he said I should take her to the ER. When we walked into triage, her oxygen level was dangerously low (mid-70’s). The hospital staff rushed her back and began treating her. I’m not sure there is anything more scary to a young mom than the look of concern on a doctor’s face as he is examining her child. They worked quickly and before I even knew what was happening, they had her connected to tubes and machines and admitted her for her first stay in the hospital. 

Over the course of the next week, Dan and I took turns staying with her while the hospital staff did their job. She underwent breathing treatments, percussion therapy sessions, suction, IV antibiotics and steroids. Madison tolerated the necessary measures. After each treatment, she would resume the exact same position. She would lay on her back, propped up on a pillow, put her hands behind her head and turn her face away. Even though I knew she was going to make a full recovery, watching this was heart breaking. 

She spent a week in the hospital and was sent home on all kinds of medicines. Having never gone through anything like this before, we had no idea what these types of drugs could do to a little person. The doctors gave us very serious instructions and warnings about the steroids especially. And even at six months olds, we saw behavioral differences that were...well, unsettling. She got very angry....and very happy...and very excited...All of her emotions were extreme. 

Madison made a full recovery. I believe the steroids had given us a glimpse into the future with her, because even though she was no longer taking them, she remained very angry, very happy, very excited...

Exactly one year later, Madison had to make another trip to the ER. She had been battling a cold, with a slight cough, but still had all kinds of energy so we thought she had kicked this one. We went to church and took her to childcare as we did every Sunday. A close friend of mine was working in her class that day. When we came to pick her up, my friend (a mother who had experience with asthma) recommended that I take Madison in to the doctor because her cough sounded suspicious. 

I noticed later that day that her color was not good and she was breathing faster than she should be, so I decided to go ahead and take her to the ER. Not my favorite place.

When we got to the there, Madison was surprisingly happy. She greeted every man, woman and child she passed with an enthusiastic “HI!”. She didn’t want to sit on my lap, but wanted to be down and playing. Yuck! playing in the ER! Fortunately, they called us back to triage quickly so we could avoid that battle of the wills. (There was no way I was going to let my 18 month old get down to play in the children’s hospital emergency room) The nurse who examined Madison inquired about my concerns. I told him I was concerned about her breathing. He looked at this happy, playful, talkative little girl and said “Oh, I’m sure she's fine.” I said “Looks can be deceiving.” The nurse lifted her shirt to watch her chest. With every breath, Madison’s ribs protruded from her sides. “Hmm” was the nurses reply. He got the oxygen monitor and put it on her finger...waited...took it off and put it on a different finger...waited...He went to another room and retrieved another moniter, changed the leads and put it on her finger...waited...

There it was again! That look of concern. He had not allowed me to see the numbers on the machines until this moment.  73%... He apologized and told me that a child with a reading that low should be lethargic and blue. Once again, hospital staff went to work and she was admitted and “hooked up”. This time, however, she was no longer the compliant six month old who tolerated the treatments. She had become a fierce fighter. They needed to get an IV in her arm. It took six people just to put her in a papoose. Madison had worked up such a sweat during the struggle that as soon as they had all turned around she wiggle herself out. At this point she was too sweaty to be able to proceed and she was getting so worked up that she had started coughing again. They allowed me to hold her and gave her a breathing treatment which helped her calm down and she eventually fell asleep. They were able to get her in the papoose while she was asleep and finished putting in the IV. 

So here we are. Back at the same hospital, for the same reason, having the same treatments. Only this time Madison was a totally different child. Every time someone in a white coat attempted to come close to her she would start swinging. You see, in order to stabilize the arm with the IV, they put on a stiff splint that went from her elbow to the tips of her fingers. Instant weapon!! Dan was the only one that could convince her to allow anyone near her. Several nurses attempted to treat her before Dan had a chance to keep her calm. She would stick her “weapon” through the slats in the hospital crib and start whacking. Needless to say, we made many apologies that week. 

Once again, Madison stayed for a week and came home on lots of drugs. This time it was a little more of a challenge to give her the treatments at home. The only way we could get her to sit for a breathing treatment was to sing “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart”. (She loved the sit on a tack part) Whatever works, right? 

Madison had the same side effects as before. She was more angry, more happy, and more excited and now we could add extremely impulsive to this list. 

Fast forward to the following year. Same week, same problem. Only this time, we were ready for it and were able to keep her out of the hospital. The doctors decided there was something that she was allergic to that must bloom at that time every year. We were careful to not spend much time outside and to keep windows closed. However, she still had issues. We made many trips to the doctor’s office, and he was willing to work with us to try to keep her at home. While we didn’t have to go to the hospital, we did have to put her back on all of the drugs again. 

Her reactions to the steroids were the same. They made her crazy! Our nickname for her during this time was “Mad Maddy”. She was a force to be reckoned with. They had to promote her early at church because she was too rough with the children her age so they put her in a group of kids that were older than her so they could survive her escapades. We had to keep a very watchful eye on her at home because now she had two little sisters (18 months and 2 months old) who were vulnerable to her attack. 

Dan and I started to notice that she was becoming “that kid”. You know the one I’m talking about. The one that is always in trouble. The one who couldn't keep her hands to herself. The one who was going to climb to the top and jump off......of everything. And then convince all of the rest of the kids to do the same. So we learned quickly how to help Madison. We learned to watch for signs that she was becoming overwhelmed or mischievous or bored. We learned to separate her from potentially volatile situations far before anyone even noticed. We learned that she needed quick discipline and lots and lots of patience. We felt like we were on the right track until....

The next year. same week. Very different problem. We had gotten control of all of Madison’s breathing issues, managed her medications and felt like this year was going to be different. Then, in the middle of the night, 3 1/2 year old Maddy came into my room. She reached up to me and woke me up. She said her head hurt and it hurt her legs to walk. I was in the “7 months pregnant, middle of the night stupor”. I felt her head and she was warm so i got up, gave her tylenol and took her back to her bed. I stayed with her until she had settled and then i went back to bed. I figured that she was just achy because she had caught some kind of flu virus. In the morning, Madison crawled out of her room...she was crawling. This is my crazy girl who has been walking, running, jumping, climbing for 2 years. Why was she crawling?!? I picked her up and saw that her feet and hands were very swollen. I examined her further to find that where i had picked her up the night before, she had tiny red spots that all together looked like bruises. It literally looked like bruises in the shape of my hands on her sides under her arms where I had lifted her. I was horrified. I called the doctor and he told me to come to his office, but to enter through the back door. He took one look at her and sent us to the hospital. They took us right into a room and began working...again. 

There is one thing worse that the look of concern on the doctors’ faces. Its the look of concern covered by not one, but two masks. I had no idea what was going on. They were not doing any of the familiar treatments and no one was talking to me. At this point Madison was a limp rag doll. They had poked her to take a blood sample and she hadn’t even flinched. I asked questions, but the only thing they could tell me is that they were admitting her and they didn’t know what was wrong. 

Now for the fourth year in a row, Madison was receiving IV antibiotics and.....steroids. They never figured out what caused this illness, but I later found out from one of the ER nurses that they thought she had a fatal bacterial infection. The double masked staff and lack of communication all made sense. Maddy eventually recovered from this mystery illness and I am happy to report that she has NOT been back to the hospital since. 

Some months later, we were at a church family function. I don’t remember what Madison had done, but it required a trip to the bathroom for some of that quick discipline I talked about earlier. (Madison was no stranger to the bathroom for that purpose.) A close friend had seen Madison and I come out of the restroom and knew the purpose for the visit. She caught my eye and I said “She’ll be lucky if she lives to see four!” To be honest, raising madison was a big job. But there were several factors that made this even harder. By the time Madison was four, we had a total of six kids. She was a high-energy child while I was no-energy mommy. It was all I could do to keep up with her. Dan was amazing during this time because he would take her to work with him as often as he could. He would take her to the store or to the park or just out for a drive, just to use up some of her energy. 

Madison was our first strong-willed child. Dan and I spent many hours praying for wisdom and reading the bible to try and figure out how to teach her to gain self-control, yet embrace who God created her to be. We looked up verses in the bible that taught about controlling anger, using kind words, self-control, loving one another. We taught her those verses. She was a child who loved to push on the boundaries, but who was relieved when the boundaries remained intact. She was our first child to yell at me and slam her bedroom door. (Testing the boundary) The very real threat that I would take her door off the hinges was enough to stop her from ever doing that again. (Boundary intact) She was the first child to fight with her brother after being told if it happened again they would be tied together. (testing the boundary) She spent an entire day tied to her big brother at the ankle. (Boundary intact) .....

Madison was also my first child to go stand by the flagpole at school alone and bow her head to pray. I watched as one student after another joined her until there were more than a dozen students holding hands and praying. I have seen her make incredibly difficult decisions based on what God calls her to and not based on what everybody else is doing. I have seen her handle disappointment when those decisions didn’t make her popular and as those who made other choices moved up the social ladder in her place.

Madison has a very real sense of who God is and what He means in her life. She knows that she is loved unconditionally not only by her parents, but by a fiercely loving God whose plans for her are far more important than anything this world can throw in her way. God has rewarded her for her patience and perseverance. (two words I never thought would apply to her) She has become a beautiful woman inside and out. One whom I know is capable of handling all that God has planned for her. 

My experience this weekend was bittersweet. But what makes it easier for me is that I have seen God mold and shape Madison from the time she was that tiny little girl sitting in her rocking chair hooked up to the “Choo Choo”. I have seen God’s faithfulness in sparing her life from whatever the mystery illness was. I am excited for Maddy because I know wherever she goes she will be a reflection of His glory. I will deeply miss my daughter, Madison, but I can’t wait to see where this arrow will land and how many people her life will effect in the name of Jesus. 

If you would like to read more about Madison, I wrote about her several years ago in a post called “High Energy Children”

Enjoy! 

Haters Hate

Haters hate. Its what they do. They will actively seek out things to hate. I have been on the receiving end of their venomous words. I have to admit, it is something that I don’t understand, nor do I really want to. 

Several years ago, I posted a video on youtube of the day we found Max in the toilet. Not just playing in the toilet, but fully sitting IN the toilet. 

It was one of those days; A cleaning day, and not just any cleaning, we were DEEP cleaning. It was a summer day that started the way most of our days in recent history had started. I got up, readied myself for the day and proceeded down the hallway to wake the rest of the house. First stop was the littles’ room. (Bailey 5, Abbey 3 and Maximus, AKA “shenanigans”, 18 months) I reached for the doorknob with the words “Rise and Shine” poised on my lips. I turned the knob and attempted to step inside. “Rise and WHACK” The door bounced off of something inside their room and hit me in the head. You see, instead of going to sleep when they were put to bed the night before, they had built a fort right in front of their bedroom door. 

The noise of my forehead colliding with their bedroom door was enough to shake them from their sleep. Satisfied that my job in that room was done, I proceeded down the hallway feeling my head to assess the damage, clumsily putting one foot in front of the other. Before I could get to the next room to continue my mama reveille , I experienced another type of pain, much worse, this time coming from my foot. It was a familiar pain. The pain only a Lego can cause. “Yeeeowww!!!” I’m pretty sure this time all who were once blissfully sleeping, were now wide awake. I didn’t even need to go to anymore bedrooms to wake anyone else. They all appeared in the family room to find me sitting on the couch, nursing my injuries. 

Time for a family meeting. Through gritted teeth, with as much self control as I could muster (because cussing is not allowed) I said “Today we will clean”. That’s it. That’s all I said. 

So, that is the type of “cleaning day” I’m talking about. I got breakfast for the kids and the cleaning began. I was in my big girls room helping them make some headway on a room who’s floor had been missing for several weeks.  I heard someone screaming from the kitchen. “Mom!!! Come quick!!! And you should bring the camera!!” I ran into the kitchen where there were several of the kids pointing into the bathroom. There he was...Shenanigans (Max)... in the toilet. Not just sitting. He was ....playing...in the water. He was thrilled with himself. Obviously, my first reaction (after I recorded the whole thing) was to get him out and give him a bath.  After I got him all cleaned up, I found the person who was supposed to be watching him, reprimanded them and of course...posted the video on Youtube. 

I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever seen and never thought for one minute that it would cause such controversy. The comments started pouring in; About what a terrible mother I was and how this poor little boy was going to be scarred for life and probably would never be potty trained. They scolded me and told me he could have died and kids die in toilets every day and on and on and on. They condemned me as a mother and as a person. Well, I’ve got news for all the haters out there: Max is potty trained and perfectly comfortable in any bathroom near any toilet. And if I am being totally honest, shortly after this incident Max may or may not have taken a nap in the commode. All I know is that when we found him and pulled him out, his diaper had soaked up all of the water in the bowl.... And he was very well rested...

Max got lots of bathes, many times a day due to his other shenanigans. He was a challenge to keep track of.  

My point is this: we should never judge. Thats not our job. Most of the time we have no way of knowing the whole story. And we certainly don’t need to berate people for circumstances beyond their control. I never responded to any of the comments on that video, mainly because I knew that that is what these people were hoping for and I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of a response. I also know that the proof is in the pudding. Max is a very well-adjusted six year old....And he has earned nearly a thousand dollars from that video. 

Click here to view the video


BTW...before i get more haters, the toilet was clean, it had scratches on it....

Rest

I had the rare occasion to lay down with Max as he fell asleep last night. He has been having some scary dreams and has developed an aversion to sleeping in his own bed. So I told him I would lay with him until he fell asleep. As is usually the case with several of my children, he didn’t lay down and close his eyes and fall asleep, it’s not that easy. He laid down and stared at me. He wouldn’t close his eyes for fear that I would leave his side. Knowing that he needed this rest, I stayed still and closed my eyes hoping he would follow suit. Every time I tried to sneak a peak, his eyes would meet mine and a sweet, groggy smile would envelop his face. As time passed, the opportunity of making eye contact diminished and I was able to just watch his struggle. He was so desperately trying to stay awake to make sure I was still there. He would force his eyes open just long enough to catch the glimpse of my silhouette in the darkness of his room, then relax again and drift off. While in my mind I was saying “just let go, buddy. You need this rest.” When I felt that he was finally asleep, I slowly started to get up and make my way off of his bed. I had just gotten my head off the pillow when I saw him shift and I froze; hoping he would settle and close his eyes again. He pulled his little arm out from under his blankets and wrapped it around my neck. He whispered “No, Mommy. Don’t go away.” He turned his face away from me, laid his head on his pillow and fell asleep; still clinging to my neck. 

I laid there in his dark room struck by two things. The first was the similarity of Max’s struggle to allow himself to trust me enough to find rest and the struggle I have been having trusting God completely and allowing Him to give me rest. It was so clear to me that Max was exhausted and just needed to close his eyes and go to sleep.  But he was fighting it with everything he had. I could see the fear in his eyes when he opened them that I was not going to be there and I felt his little body relax as he was comforted when our eyes met. I know God calls us to find our rest in Him, but I find myself opening my eyes and saying “but what about the roof that is in desperate need of repair?” He says “Trust me and rest”. I say “what about the college tuition that is coming this fall?” He says “Trust me and rest”. I say “Well, what about our car situation, or Dan’s job, or...?” And again He says “Trust me and rest”. Why do I fight it? God has proven himself over and over in my life and throughout history. He is worthy of my trust. So why do I keep forcing my eyes open to make sure he hasn’t left instead of falling off into blissful rest? I haven’t figured out the answer, yet. I’m not sure that I ever will. Sometimes I wish I could wrap my arm around His neck just to make sure He won’t ever leave. For now, I will cling to His promise to “never leave or forsake me”. God tells us in Matthew 11:29 “Take my yolk upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”  That rest is the rest I saw in Max’s face last night when he finally trusted me enough to let go. 

The other thing that occurred to me last night was the fact that, as much as I am a believer in children sleeping in their own beds and being able to get themselves to sleep,  this was a rare opportunity; one whose frequency is waning. Max is my youngest and at six years old, he is well on his way to complete independence (which is a good thing, something for which we as parents strive), but, at the same time, signals the end of an era in my journey as a mommy. I know there will be more opportunities along the way to love on him, comfort him, disciple him, but to be able to lie next to him and watch as he drifts off to asleep, to be the one who provides the security that allows him to rest; Those opportunities will be few and far between. 

I was standing with Max in the kitchen the other day 

and I scooped him up in my arms and cradled him like a baby. 

I gave him kisses and said 

“Max, what’s going to happen when i can’t carry you anymore? I will be so sad.” 

He smiled at me and replied, “It’s OK mom, I will carry you.”