exposed

I tried to write about this in my previous post, but my paragraph disappeared 7 entire times.

I'm gonna try this again.

It's hard to write about because it's not something people want to hear or think about. and some of you will disagree.

I'm talking about sexual exploitation.

See. You're a little squimish now, aren't you? Well, perhaps you should be.

There are hurting people, and I can't stop hearing their hurt voices. So I'm gonna speak up for them.

I've been giving an enormous amount of thought into this. Into thinking about porn.

Whoa, wait, hold up. Porn? Isn't porn just ladies with daddy issues who let guys film them while they screw someone else for money and fame? No. Not usually.

But porn isn't that bad. It's not like I'm hurting anyone. Actually, yes it is.

Ok, ok. Well. If I really think about it, I guess I can see how it would affect me badly. I can see how some people call it a sin because they're 'thinking' about having sex with someone other than their spouse. And that can mess up my intimacy and my purity. So if I obstain from viewing it, the problem goes away, right? Dead wrong.

The more I learn about porn, the more I am convinced that it is rape on tape.

There are probably videos of people having sex out there where both/all parties consented, were not wasted or otherwise coerced or threatened, who simply enjoyed having sex and wanted to share their joy with the masses.

But from what I'm learning, they are few and far between.

I've been reading what this ex-porn star has been trying to tell people. That the abuse that happens on porn sets is unspeakable. That if we knew what was truly happening, that we'd see it as more menacing than we do now.

I've read what seems like an endless amount of information about sex trafficking. And how closely it is related to porn.

I've prayed daily for the exploited, the tricked, the suckered, the weak, the poor, the easily ensnared. I've begged God to stop the abuse. To rescue them.

Yesterday, I prayed for the 'johns.'

I support, financially and prayerfully, several different organizations where people are out there identifying where abuse and trafficking is happening. Specifically, IJM, Love146, Not for Sale, Tiny Hands International, and Unearthed Pictures. I have a friend who recently went to a strip club with gifts and letters for the ladies. Her husband talked with the dudes who worked there. My friend wasn't allowed access to the girls. She wasn't allowed to talk to them. Wasn't allowed. What does that tell you? We are planning on getting together every once in a while to pray for and write letters to these ladies.

There are LOTS of people who agree with me that slavery and abuse and rape and trafficking is wrong. But there are LOTS and LOTS and LOTS of people who are making money off these people (humans, created by God with love to SHINE and live abundantly) and so the oppressors are smart and organized and armed and dangerous and protected by corrupt people in power, and they currently outnumber those of us who are willing to fight for these people.

I write all this to plead with you to join me. To join those of us who believe that God CAN and WILL rescue us from this idea that it's ok to exploit people. To open people's eyes to what they are supporting when they view porn. To encourage others to pray for those who have been/are being abused, enslaved, used, kidnapped and killed so that someone else can get rich. To pray for the victims to find healing. For the victimizers to find redemption. For the johns to be given grace and the opportunity to turn around and help the women, men and children of the world who need them to stand against this kind of exploitation. and for justice to rain down.

This is what I've been thinking about. This is what I want you to think about. This is what I hope you will join me in praying about. Let's agree with God that sex is supposed to be pleasurable and not a means to hurt others. Let's expose this for what it is and choose to do something, anything, to help put an end to the abuse.

happenings

She lives!

So, eh...Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year. Happy Valentine's Day.

What else have I missed?

I think I've also neglected to mention that Gillie turned 9, Jack turned 3, and Ben and I celebrated 10 years together since I last really posted anything.

oh and Josh got recognized as a Rising Star in his community for academic excellence. He got to bring 15 guests to a Univ. of Denver basketball game and get autographs and all that jazz. It was such a fun night.

oh and I broke my arm roller skating on New Years Eve. I just got my cast off last Friday. Ms. Righty is still super stiff so this blog post is brought to you by my left arm.

fancy.

I still don't really have anything smart or insightful or even funny to share. Which is why I've been either whiny or silent on here for so long. For the most part, my response to just about everything has been to blabber on, mindlessly, instinctually, with just enough Christian-ese thrown in to make me think I've reached some sort of something to say about something. 

I'm tired of that.

But I still wanted to put a few diary-ish thoughts up here for me to look back on someday. So humor me.

Most of my thoughts recently have been about trust. I'm seeing more and more areas of my life where I need to trust God, my husband and myself more. Mostly God.

So there's that.

Also I've got some friends who typically are pretty heavily opposed by Christians. Heavily. and I love them to pieces and cringe at their experiences. I want to be a good friend and I want to reflect Christ. and I worry that I'll screw up one of those.

ok, I have something else to write about, but this is the seventh time my computer has erased that particular paragraph. So i'm going to wrap this up and try to write a new post about it.

gillian

I did a photoshoot over the summer of Gillian. I wanted it to feel colorful and otherworldly, I guess. We grabbed some fabric and some accessories and headed to the backyard. Jack spent most of the shoot running through the grass naked. Josh eventually took him inside and put his Batman pjs on. Such a sweet big brother.

Anyway, I LOVE the way these turned out. Gillian is a natural poser. She gets these ideas of how she wants to look in her head and just does it. I rarely have to give her many cues. I just show up and click the camera. And because she's hilarious, we end up cracking up most of the time. and scratching the occassional itchy armpit.

I want to do one for the boys that looks like they're camping or something. Having some sort of adventure. I'm trying to figure out the details, but it should be fun. and I'm post them when I'm done. Eventually.



"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell." cs lewis

I'm just gonna be honest. This summer has been brutal on my marriage. Ben has had a rough time, and he's taken it out on me. I've had a rough time and taken it out on him. We were amped up and super sensitive, and instead of trying to be there for each other, we just attacked with all our might. It was horrible.

We seem to be on the other side of it now. Thank you, Jesus! But now we need to rebuild some of the things we broke. Like hearts. and trust. and stuff like that.

We are currently tiptoeing back into this whole being-on-the-same-team idea. Ben is MUCH better at this than I am. He forgives so completely and quickly. It's not effortless, but it seems like it. He is trying hard to clean up his side of the street and is being patient while I try to clean up my side of the street. But it's a WHOLE lot easier to stop yelling and stop rolling eyes and to smile more and hug more than it is to give your heart back to someone who has broken it.

I can change my behaviors. and I have been. But I'm finding it extremely difficult to soften my heart and risk it being hurt again.

I'm giving him this:

when I need to be giving him this:

We won't get very far in being there for each other if I steel up my heart and keep Ben out. All this work he's doing to make amends won't penetrate and affect my heart if I remain hard-hearted. I am getting in the way of us truly being a team if I bury my heart. I am keeping us from healing.

Yes, I will likely get my heart broken again. But if I never risk it, I will never have the opportunity to really experience healing and love and compassion and forgiveness and marriage. I'm not willing to let my marriage or my heart die. So I'm gonna let Ben love me. and I'm not going to question his motives or belittle his efforts or reject his sweet, sweet heart. He's worth it. I'm worth it. Our marriage is worth it. Lord, help me remember grace. Help me remember love. Help me trust. Help me enjoy the adventure of being vulnerable.

God is EVERYwhere

Tonight at dinner, the kids were talking about how God is everywhere. They pointed at Dad and said that God was on his head. They pointed at me and said that God was on my shoulders. They pointed at each other and said God was on them and in their hearts. God was in the kitchen. Next door. In the car. In the future. At school. You get the picture. Then Jack took it to a WHOLE. OTHER. LEVEL. He says "God is in my drink. I drink God. Then He comes out my butt." Technically.....

not satisfied

I realized the other day that I speak a lot on this blog about how I’m not satisfied with God and how instead of relying on Him and Him alone, I seek out other things to fill these aches. I know that I don't necessarily describe it that way, but that's the way it is.  I know how wrong this is, but every time I take inventory of my heart, there it is again! Something in my heart that I have substituted for God.


Part of that is wrong. Part of that is true.

It’s true that I’m not satisfied with God. I can look at my life and see areas where I’m straight-up saying “You are not enough. I need more, and I’m gonna try to find that more in this or that.”

And that’s where I’m wrong. It’s ok to not be satisfied with God. Or at least to not be satisfied with the relationship that I currently have. I’m designed to never be ABLE to get enough of God. I will always constantly need Him. I SHOULD always be seeking more of Him. His is a Love that I can never wear out and never not be in desperate need of. I shouldn’t ever get to a place where I think I’ve experienced or know all that I need or want from God.  But I've been wrong in turning to anything besides Him.

And so I’m here to say that I am not satisfied. I need more. And instead of running to other things to fill that void, I’m going to run to Him. And then I’m gonna turn around and run toward Him again. And again. And again. And never get enough. I want more of Him. I need more of Him.

It's all about me

Have you seen this article?  It says that tv shows geared towards 9-11 year old kids teach that fame, above all else, is what is most important, most valuable.  Yes, media shapes culture, but it also reflects it.  With the rise of social networking sites like Facebook, Twitter and YouTube, it makes sense that having your little entourage of friends (and sometimes complete strangers) 'follow' you, 'like' you, and have instant and constant access to you would make you feel like you have what it takes to be famous.

I'm writing this little ol' blog post here because what I'm about to say is so important that it just HAS to be shared with the masses (2 readers, on a good week. Hey guys.  How's it hanging?).

The article brought up a thoughtful question: "When being famous and rich is much more important than being kind to others, what will happen to kids as they form their values and their identities?"

I think most people just want to be known.  They hope that who they are is not only acceptable, but admired, adored, wanted.  Treasured, cherished, thought of.  I would imagine that most people have a small core group of friends (not necessarily the 200 online acquaintances on your Facebook friends list.  I mean, honest to goodness, real-life friends who you communicate with on a somewhat regular basis) that you know and who know you, and ya'll hang out anyway.

And I think that people don't want fame just for fame's sake.  I'd imagine most people don't want to be known for their breakdowns or failings.  People admire and want to be like Oprah and Taylor Swift.  They make fun of and pity Charlie Sheen.  See the difference?

For the last few weeks or so, God has been shining a harsh light on my heart about my own need to be seen, known, admired, and wanted. I struggle with pride and am prone to fantasize, so I end up engaging in these scenarios in my head where a friend comes over and raves about my cooking or how crafty I am or how smart and funny and happy my kids are. I envision myself having conversations with people where they sit there, silenced by awe, shaking their heads with admiration, wondering how in the world I do it all.

(I can hardly believe I'm telling you guys this stuff.  I just want to be real.  I don't do it all, just so you know. I can't. NOT EVEN CLOSE. and what I do end up accomplishing is normally done sloppily and only at the last possible minute. But these are my fantasies, remember? I've always been like this.  When I was little, I used to imagine myself being interviewed by Oprah.  yes, really.  That's how narcissistic I am. I also used to make up forms for me to fill out.  I had to list my name, my age, my birthday, my favorite color, my hero, my least favorite food, my best subject in school.  I just wanted all this info out there.  You know, in case anyone wanted to know.)

Along the same lines, I also find myself entertaining thoughts of grabbing a man's attention. I don't do anything about these thoughts, but it can seriously consume me.  I'm not willing to do anything to jeopardize my marriage or anyone else's marriage.  But I suppose part of me wants to know if I've still got it, and part of me likes to get caught up in the idea of being wooed. It's fun to be wooing someone. You bring your "A" game and don't share a bathroom and never let them see you sweaty or upset. I think that is why I do it. Besides the obvious 'I-am-such-a-sinnner' part. I want someone to pursue me, to want to spend time with me, to work to get to know me, and to like what they see and hear enough to be willing to stick around even when I'm being a fickle, narcissistic jerk with a nasty wad of a heart.

Women (and probably some men too) watch these romantic-comedies and read these romance novels and love to get caught up in someone being romanced.  They love watching people fall in love.  I've got to admit that I've watched two whole seasons of the Bachelor/Bachelorette for this very reason.  Everyone loves a good wedding.  Less people celebrate a good marriage.  That is, until a couple has been married 50 years or so.  Then it rocks!  It's admirable, it's inspiring, it's beautiful.  But between the "I do" and the "I'd do it all over again, Baby!" there is a whole lot of hard work and crying yourselves to sleep and snotty attitudes and having conversations while one is peeing in front of the other.  It's hard to remember that I am adored by my husband when I know how bad my morning breath can be. It's hard to feel special when we're both so tired by the end of the day that we end up turning on the tv and tuning each other out.  It's hard to remember that he wants me when I look around me and don't see how in the world my body could be attractive compared to what he sees when he stops to grab a coffee at Starbucks.  But he does.  He comes home to ME.  The second that he walks out the door of his office, he's on the phone with me, bitching about his day or telling me about some problem he single-handedly solved.  He calls ME.  He doesn't call someone else.  He doesn't shut down and keep that part of his life from me (even though I really only understand about 20% of what he's saying. It's all 'geek' to me).  Occasionally, he brings me flowers and then says stuff like "I picked these because they were the most beautiful.  Like you." He and I sign "I love you" with our hands when we drive away from each other or when we see each other in church across the room.  And when I'm not feeling well, he takes over dinner duties and lets me stay in bed, and he brings me soup and medicine and comes in to keep me company. If that isn't being wooed, I don't know what is!

It's hard to feel loved when my sin is so exposed, and yet that's exactly what God does.  He LOVES me. He is wooing me. Did you see that sunset the other day?  Did you catch the scent of that rain?  Remember the vividness of that random patch of wildflowers?  Didn't that act of kindness move you to tears?  He doesn't care if I'm all made up and if my butt doesn't look like that 19 year old's butt who hasn't had 3 kids and doesn't know what spending a full day with spit up dried on the back of her shirt without her knowing is like. He loves ME.  Warts and all. Because He loves His Son, and I am COVERED by Him. Covered in speghetti-o's and kids' boogers too, but covered by Jesus all the same.  and that, folks, is what matters. 

Yes, there is a whole generation of kids thinking that if they can learn a few sweet dance moves or songs on the piano and put it up on YouTube or Facebook, that hordes of people will come banging down their door within a week, begging them to be on some new show that will reveal to the world just how incredible they truly are. and then those boys or girls that made fun of them in gym will feel so ashamed.

But that rarely happens (I can't say it never happens.  Isn't Beiber a YouTube success story?).  and haven't you seen American Idol?  I mean, yes, the contestants who win the title of Idol have worked their butts off to get there and have some genuine talent and stage presence.  But then there are also those contestants who became Internet superstars because their audition tape was put into the bloopers reel and put into heavy rotation.  Their video goes viral and a star is born.  Short-lived, but their star shines for a time nonetheless.

And it's not just those who are growing up in this easy-access culture of "friends". Like I just admitted, I too struggle with lusting after admiration. Even though I know that if I am going to boast, I am supposed to boast in the Lord.

But here I am, jacking up my own self, desperate for more people to notice and appreciate me.

God knows me. How quickly I forget. How quickly I become dissatisfied with God's supreme, never-ending, never-failing love and turn to the world with its short-lived, conditional, self-seeking and exploitive affection. How quick I am to belittle the commitment and admiration of my sweet husband. His love is more than enough and yet I still fantasize about more. It doesn't matter if my walls have been artfully decorated, what matters is whether my life adorns God with worship. It doesn't matter if my kids make me look like I'm Captain Awesome Mom, what matters is do they know the Lord?  It doesn't matter if some random dude in the car next to me notices that I curled my hair this morning, what matters is that my husband loves me, and I can trust that he will come home to me. and that man has seen the good, the bad and the totally disgusting, and he STILL wants me! It doesn't even matter if you read this blog post and think I am the grossest sinner in the world. or worse - you could think, "eh. Another boring post by that wretch who is totally normal and doesn't stand out in any way and isn't worthy of any book deals." What matters is that I am recognizing this crap about me and acknowledging that it's wrong. I am admitting to God that I am wrong and need to repent and that I need to focus more on living a life of worship of God instead of this sick self-worship crap. What matters is whether I'm willing to be honest enough with my sweet, precious, gifts from Heaven, friends to admit that I'm wrong and that I'm struggling and ashamed and could use some support and some prayers. and maybe someone out there will be able to relate, and we can help each other out.

If God gave you a beautiful singing voice, sing His praises.  If God made you crafty, make your home a comfortable place to gather together your family and your friends. If He blessed you richly with the gift of words, get out there and tell the world that God is good.  If you made you good with numbers, praise Him with them.  It all goes back to Him. 

If you feel like you don't have anything to offer, offer your heart.  Warts and all.  Offer your yuck.  Offer your good.  Offer your sad.  Offer your success. Offer your mess. Offer your fear.  Offer your doubt.  Offer it all.

It's not about me.  Or you.  Or you or you or even you  (wow, you are wonderful!).  It's about Him.  It's always been about Him.  It will always BE about Him.  He is the only one who deserves your praise.  He is the only one that deserves my praise.  It's all about Him.  Let us be kind and point people to Him.  Let our lives reflect our devotion to God. Let us not try to bring attention to ourselves if we are going to shine anything besides that sweet Light of Jesus. And if we are going to fantasize, let it be about the day to come, where every knee will bow.

cheap

I have a friend who has an illness. She's had it for a few years now. When she wants to hang out with me, she asks me to do something for her and then goes over the top about explaining that she'd do it herself, but her condition is making it too hard for her.

I have told her that I like hanging out with her and that she doesn't have to make excuses in order to get me to visit with her. But she continues to come up with things that she needs and then explains over and over and over that her illness makes life hard for her.

Now I have no problem with her being concerned about her illness. Frankly, I'm concerned as well. I don't mind her talking about it or how it makes her life difficult. I want her to share with me her fears and doubts as well as her ideas and memories and dreams. But I tend to feel a bit manipulated when we hang out. Yes, she's an emotional vampire, and it's kind of exhausting spending much time with her, but still. I like her. She's kind and interesting and loves my kids. and I gotta admit that I love feeling useful and appreciated and needed.

but I also feel like she cheapens our friendship. (I probably do too.  As you're about to see.)

With all the talk about her illness, it feels like she's trying to guilt me into helping her. As if I wouldn't help her if she just told me about her need. And she's always trying to pay me for something. If I drive her somewhere, she's wants to pay for gas. She's uncomfortable if I don't accept her money. And I never know if I'm taking away her dignity if I don't accept or whether I need to be super intentional about letting her know that I'm not doing it for the money. She's my friend. That's what I do with my friends.

But she doesn't see it that way. I don't think she realizes that we're friends. I don't think she can let that into her heart. and that makes me so sad for her.

and I know that I do the same thing with God. I try to earn my way into His family. Not accepting that He chose me and there's nothing I can be or do that will change that. He loves me. Not because of anything I did or didn't do. He loves me because He chooses to love me. He WANTS me to be His friend.

Mind-blowing, I know.

I find it sooo hard to accept that.  I too tend to cheapen all of my relationships. If I can't offer a 'fancy' meal with place settings that will Rock+Their+World, I don't tend to invite people over. As if anyone cares about that. If I didn't clear the sink of dirty dishes, I tend to try to make up for it by pointing out the pile of clean clothes (that I probably have yet to fold and put away) or the fact that I'm being 'fun' and microwaving our dinners tonight (that's right, I WENT there). If I can't think of something witty and charming to say, I won't call anyone. and if I can't present a clean, pure heart, I don't tend to offer much to God either.

I also cheapen God by trying to fill His role in my life with counterfeit junk.  I found a stash of beautiful fabrics at Joann's tonight.  On clearance!  Swoooooooon.  I snatched it up dreaming of all the A-MAZING things I'm going to create with it.  It felt s o o o o good to be inspired and have things around me to play with.  and I realized that I was trying to soothe a super raw heart that had been called out during church this morning.  My face (still) hurts from trying to hide my darn tears that just would not stop flowing.  I was not ready to share about it.  I supposed I'm still not ready.  and this is a group of people that I feel very comfortable being honest with.  I have shared some STUFF with them, and they have been nothing but supportive and encouraging, and they have prayed for me, and I have felt (the opposite of alone).  and yet, I am cheapening their friendship, their fellowship.  By sitting there in my seat, tears pouring out of my face like that, and then saying "I'm fine" when they ask is BS. I'm telling them that I'm not willing to let them in and that most likely makes them feel that they shouldn't ask to be let in as well.  I'm also cheapening my need.  I'm trying to gloss over my stupid need and treat it with something that will certainly numb it for a time, but will not EVER be enough.  This need can only be treated by me slaying my pride and offering my messy, yucky, hurt heart anyway.  By letting God in.  By letting God bring people into my life that I'm supposed to share my messy, yucky, hurt heart with.  And then they can share their messy, yucky, hurt hearts with me.

It's beautiful.  At least, it's supposed to be.  and I'm keeping alllllll that beauty away.  Trying to soothe it with beautiful THINGS. 

God, help me.  Take away my stupid pride.  Hold my hand as I sit with the yuck and really look at it.  With you.  Forgive me.  I invite You in.  Help me see it for what it is.  Please help me reject the counterfeit junk and seek You. And help me as I try to align my will with Your Will.  I imagine that Satan is really enjoying just how easy it is to distract me.  I am sorry, sweet Savior.  I want You.  I need You.  I love You.

(oh yea, I feel the need to point out that I don't believe that there's anything wrong with buying fabric and being artsy fartsy or with letting the dishes pile up for a night or even accepting money from a friend. Buying fabric just happened to be what I was doing today to distract myself from dealing with the stuff God brought up for me.  Piled up dishes seem to be a staple in our house.  So much so that if they aren't there when you come over for a visit, I'm trying to impress you.  and sometimes you should let people appreciate you with their money.  It's not that I wouldn't accept money for a service that I do for friends, but the stuff I've done for this lady, I did because I wanted to spend time with her.  It felt like my friendship wasn't noticed.  Just my service.  That was my beef.  I'm sure people have that same beef with me and my kooky ways.  Ok, I'm done.)

trying hard

I recently took a Zumba class at my gym. It was outstanding! My bedroom growing up had sliding, mirrored closet doors. It was like having a dance studio in my room. My sister and I used to jump around and dance and try to move like Paula Abdul and Janet Jackson. Being in a room with a bunch of sweaty ladies during Zumba reminded me of that. Glorious.

I liked it so much that I even got a Zumba video so that I could get that kind of workout whenever I wanted.

While I was doing the video tonight, Gillian asked me if it was hard. "Yes," was about all I could gasp out.

"You're very sweaty," she observed.

"Uh huh." (boom chick boom chick boom chick)

"Why do you try so hard?"

"Because calories are stubborn. And it's exciting to do something challenging."

"You're gonna need a bath..."

"I was planning on bathing anyway. Besides, aren't baths more fun when you reallllly need it?"

"But, but it's hard and you're completely gross."

I'm sure there's some greater lesson there (other than I'm more stubborn than calories AND a glutton for punishment), but Gillian is a riot. And I love a good challenge. Especially if I get to sweat.

not a mistake

Hey doods! Summer has arrived, and we've been crazy busy. I have wanted to type out a post here for a couple of weeks now, but our computer crashed, and I didn't want to try to type it out from my phone. (That's right. I've finally been pulled kicking and screaming into the 21st century - I have a smart phone. It's like in the National Honor Society of phones. I'd be proud if I wasn't so darned intimidated. I don't know enough about these little devices to NOT imagine that it is like Robocop, scanning me for weaknesses and planning a revolution against humans.)

With my trusty keyboard and its comfortable familiarity on the fritz, I'm writing this from my phone. (Is your mind as blown as mine?) I wouldn't bother except that this really beautiful thing happened, and I just have to share it with you!

My husband has bipolar disorder, and every once in a while he has a manic cycle. It's like Ben x 10. He thinks fast, acts fast, talks fast. He's moving so fast that he can't think through his complex problems at work. He has taken the last month off work so that he could give his doc and his increased meds a chance to slow him back down to his normal speed. In that time, he's really argued with God about having the disorder in the first place. He finds it unfair that he has to struggle with this thing that he was simply born with. He's upset because when he's manic, he relates to his kids so easily, but he can't do his job. And when he's more leveled out, he finds it hard to interact with his kids, but he can ace every issue at work. He feels like he has to choose between playing with his kids and providing for kids. Very tough stuff to ponder.

I have tried to comfort him. I have prayed constantly for his heart, that God would calm his spirit and give him peace. I have prayed that God would protect his mind and his faith, that He would draw Ben close and confide in him and give him strength and security. I tried to explain away his illness by telling Ben that sometimes things happen that God desires and some things God allows and will heal later.

God brought Ben to a mountaintop (literally. Ben went hiking and brought his Bible, searching for truth and hope), and told him five incredible words -

YOU ARE NOT A MISTAKE.

Here I am trying to explain away his illness, trying to make excuses for God. And God answers - Trust me. This is part of the plan. And it's gonna be great.

We all have junk that we're dealing with that we just want to go away. Life is hard enough without all this extra crap piled on top. But we can't know what God is up to. We can just trust Him and hang on. The way Ben handles his disorder is admirable. He gives others with bipolar hope that they too will one day hold down a job and have a loving family to come home to. I don't know why he has to struggle so much, but I now know that it's in God's Hands.

And it's gonna be alright.

sailors

Ok I've got to share a couple more funnies from my boys.

First off, I gotta set the stage.  We're not usually this 'street.'  But these past few weeks have been rough.

Therapy has gotten REAL, yo.  We've just started a new modality called Prolonged Exposure Therapy.  Used a ton with PTSD peeps.  not, not, NOT fun.  Instead of our usual 60 minute sessions, we've bumped it up to 90 minutes.  This past week, I think I spent 80 of those minutes bawling my darn eyes out.  Anyway, so things are tense.  I'm tense.  I'm sensitive and jumpy and grouchy and on edge.  Even though I'm trying reallllllly hard to relax and compartmentalize.  Still.  That stuff bleeds over.  And it makes me tense.  And me being tense makes Ben tense.  So....

The other day, Ben opened the freezer and something fell onto his foot.  He yells out "Crap!"  and of course, Jack is right there. 

"Crap?"
"No, Jack.  Don't say that."
"crap. crap. crap. heh heh. crap. crap. crap."  All twinkly eyes and big, stretched out grin.

yea.

And then last weekend, a friend of mine held a garage sale at my place.  She came over the night before just as Ben and I were cooling off from an argument.  Not a fight, now.  We're just both on edge, remember?  And so Every+Little+Thing sets us off.  Josh is finishing a puzzle at the table or something, and Nicole asks me if I am alright. 

(Apparently, there was a bunch of heavy sighs and dark undereye circles and yawning on my part, and she picked up on it.  I LOVE how with chicks you can be totally transparent because they can SEE you and just feel when something is off.  Actually, no.  I don't love that.  I wish I could hide behind my mask of good manners and "I'm fine" and southern hospitality and deflection most of the time.  But I can't with this chick.  Which is sooooo good for me.  But she's moving to TX, darn-it!  Now I need to find someone else who will call me on my crap.  I mean, shit.  NO!  I mean, junk. Messy, messy, poo poo junk.  There.  That's better.)

Anyhooooo, so I tell her that I've been a bitc....well, hold on.  Josh is right there.  "Uh, let's just say I've been a bee-otch to Ben tonight, and I'm feeling nasty about it."  She nods knowingly, and we move on to another topic of conversation.  About 5 minutes later Josh asks, "Mom, what's a bee-otchee?" 

oh man. 

"It means that Mom was being a jerk to Dad."

His eyes get all wide like I just ratted myself out for being a really, really naughty person.  Which he has suspected this.whole.time.  !!!  He's actually enjoying this more than he should. 

"Bedtime, sweetie."

and THAT, my friends, is keeping it real.  Yo.

(why the distinct lack of funny Gillian-isms?  Well, do you count "Mom! {rolling eyes} Whatever!" as funny?  Me neither.  Although, she charmed the pants off the doctors during her eye exam.  She told them her favorite author is CS Lewis, that mysteries are her favorite "genre" of books, and that her favorite subjects in school are math and science.  Lady Doc looked at me like I was a genius-baby-making-Motts-mama.  Motts = 'Awesomesauce,' in case you're not as hip as us crazy kids these days.)

my kids are hilarious

If you ever want to see pure terror in my little Jack Jack's eyes, just go through those car washes at the gas stations.  He loses his mind with fear.  At least that was what happened last summer.  I thought maybe, just maybe, he'd outgrown that.  So this past week after I filled up the tank, I bought a car wash. 

I told the kids (in my most sing-song voice) "Ok, kids.  Now Jack didn't like these last year.  But hopefully he'll be ok today.  Just act like you are having a good time and be real gentle with him."

Gillian and Josh start calling Jack a 'cutie' and talk about how brave he is.  They ask him all about Thomas the Train (his obsession) to get him in a good mood.  Gillian says, "I hope he doesn't freak out."

And as we turn the corner to enter the car wash, Jack yells out "I'M FREAKING OUT!!!!"

sigh.  Poor baby.  If I was a nice mom, I would've backed up and waited until Ben could watch him before I redeemed my wash.  But apparently, I'm the meanest mommy ever.

He actually did better than last year.  He was upset and cried a little bit.  But it almost seemed like he got used to it or realized that it wasn't as big of a deal as he'd remembered.  He's not totally over it though.  On the way home from church today, Josh told him that if he didn't give him his toy back that Josh was going to take him to the car wash.  (Did I mention we had just been at church?  Way to be kind and considerate there, Josh.)  And he pleaded with me with those big, puppy eyes of his to "No go a car wash!"  I assured him that we were not going to the car wash today.  And I heard him whisper to himself, "No freaking out."

When he's not picking on his brother or being the Best Present Opener EVER, Josh comes up with the funniest little lines.  As I was folding clothes this week, Ben was putting them in the kids' dresser.  He told Josh that he had a lot of pants.  And Josh explained that "It's because I have two legs."

?!?!?!?!?!

It is seriously always a riot around here. 

hey there

Sneaking back onto this here ol' blog to say hi. 

{hi}

Not much is new.  I've just been busy.  And kind of wanted to keep some stuff private for a while.  I'm sure I'll get over it and blather on and on and on soon enough. 

Here are some recent mentionables:

• Josh's eardrum ruptured.  Scared me to death.  But he's all good and on the mend.
• I've decided to keep Gillian home for school next year.  She'll be getting the same education as she would if she were in a classroom except she'll be doing it from home.  We're just trying something new.  She had been asking me about it for a while, and this way we can do it without me freaking out about curriculums and tracking everything.  Josh will stay in the classroom.  For now.
• I have lost a dress size and ran a 5k.  That's right, I ran the whole dang thing.  (A little bullet point doesn't seem to do this justice.  Let's just say I rocked that run.  And I'm gonna rock another someday.)
• I've done a LOT in therapy recently.  I know I harp on and on about this on here.  And that it might make some of you squeemish or whatever.  But I don't want to keep this junk a secret and pretend that it's not a part of my life.  I'm fighting my way through it and will be better because of it.  But for now, it feels like I'm drowning a lot of the time.  Gonna get much more intense next week.  eeep.

There.  I've updated.  Maybe I'll be on here more than once a month.  Maybe I won't.  If you don't hear from me, I'm cuddling with little ones, running around town and smiling.  Coz smiling is my favorite.

sick and heartbroken

{ugh}

These past couple of weeks have been HARD!  We've had a bug in the house that has made everyone's insides come spilling out.  (So don't come over.  It's not you.  It's me.  No, really.)  Jack had surgery last Monday to have his adnoids removed and tubes put in her ears.  He did great.  I was the one who was a mess.  A friend of mine who had lost her baby girl at 35 weeks pregnant last year, lost her baby boy at 34 weeks almost exactly a year later.  They were on vacation celebrating their daughter's tiny life when their little boy decided to join his sister in heaven.  (Please pray for them.)  Another friend just laid his younger brother to rest this past weekend.  I lived with them for a few years back in college, and my heart just breaks for them.  The brother was only 32 years old.  (Pray for them too.)

I have found myself talking to God a lot.  I spent the last two weeks sitting anxiously in a waiting room while they operated on my baby, cleaning insane amounts of puke (I'm pretty sure Josh ran through the house while waving his head as he puked one of the times), and laying very still in bed because if I moved, the room spun and my guts lurched.  I was zapped.  And while this was going on with me, my friends' lives were unraveling.  I didn't know how to help them.  I couldn't go be with them.  I couldn't bring them food.  I couldn't watch their kiddos.  I couldn't even offer a hug.  So I prayed.  and prayed.  and prayed.  and asked others to pray. 

I know that I was joining the choruses when I was praying for them too.  I am blessed enough to know a LOT of people who make prayer a priority in their lives.  They trust that God listens to us.  That He desires to bless us.  That His heart breaks when we are broken-hearted. 

I believe that God is in control.  I know that this is confusing when we lose those we love.  Especially when they are so young.  It's not that we live in denial about death.  It's just that no one expects to have to deal with the loss of {another} late-term baby or a younger brother who had already survived so much and fought so hard to overcome some truly difficult junk.  These things don't make any sense.  And it makes it so so so hard to understand God's ways.

Please join me in praying for these families.  And not just these families.  There are, sadly, a lot of people mourning the loss of their loved ones and questioning God's sovereignty and goodness.  and please pray that I have bleached and scrubbed this bug out of my house. 

thank you.

my 6 year old charmer

Last week, my sweet boy, Josh, turned 6.  The weekend before, we had a party for him with some of his classmates from school.  For the second year in a row, he asked for a Shark party.  {He's my ocean-lovin' boy.  I totally see him surfing someday.}

I didn't have a lot of time to plan his party.  {Well, I guess I knew 365 days in advance when his next bday would be.  I just totally spaced and forgot to work a party into the budget.  I sent out invitations less than a week before the party and had to come up with something he'd enjoy with only $20.  Ben was being generous finding that much to spare.  So I got creative.  Which, I guess, isn't that big of a stretch for me.  But still!}

Some of the games we've played before.  I cut out a shark-ish shape from blue posterboard, (the dollar store has them 2 for $1!) and we played Pin the Fin on the Shark.  We also bought some sheets of shark stickers and put them in balloons before blowing them up.  Then I handed out toothpicks and let the kids Bust the Balloons to get their prize.  One poor little guy had to leave the room.  He is NOT a fan of loud, balloon-popping noises.

I cut out a shark mouth from some foam board and hung it up in front of our fireplace.  We called this Feed the Shark.  The kids took turns throwing balls into the mouth.  This was probably the game the kids liked the most.  Being encouraged to throw things in the house?  Who wouldn't love that?!

For the cake, I arranged some cupcakes in the shape of a shark.  Well, shark-ish.  I also filled up some clear cups with blue jello and put a gummy shark in each for the kids to snack on too.  I didn't get a picture of it, and I wish I had because it was pretty cute.  Then I took the leftover gummies and had Josh arrange them around the cupcakes with some seashells and plastic plants that you put in fishtanks.

The dollar store (again) had a package of these paper fish-shapes in their school supplies section.  I hung them up from the ceiling fan.  When I turned the fan on low, it cast all this fun, shadowy movement around the room.  As if we were in an actual aquarium. 

Extreme closeup!!!  Yes, those are silver sprinkles (!!!)

My kids helped me come up with these cute goody bags for the party guests.  We cut off the tops of some Ziploc baggies and filled them with party blowers/noise-makers, stickers, fruit rollups, and a note from Josh thanking them for coming to his party.  Then we tied ribbon around the tops and the kids put stickers on the outside of the bags.  The shark protected them from being snatched up before the end of the party.  :)

This was another game we played.  Gillian called it Fishing for Fish.  I taped a line of twine to a stick and attached a clip to the end of the line.  I then taped a piece of candy onto the back sides of some more of those paper fish.  I crouched down on one side of our couch, and the kids lined up on the other side. They'd cast over the couch, and I'd attach a fish to their line.  So simple.  And so cute.

Arrr you having a fun birthday, Josh?

I think that smile says it all.  <3

He's been such a charmer recently.  Yesterday, I was drawn outside for my workout.  I just couldn't bring myself to go to the gym with all that warm, buttery sunshine calling my name.  So after I picked up Josh from school, we put Jack in the stroller and walked over to the library.  It's only a mile away, and of course we sloooowed way down once we got there so that we could browse all the books, but I still called it my workout for the day.  As a reward for walking with me, I let Josh get his very own library card.  He was so excited when he scanned it and "Welcome, Josh" popped up on the computer screen for him to check out his books. 

{He fell asleep last night still holding his library card.}

We collected fallen branches on the walk home and put them in a vase on our kitchen table to remind ourselves of our fun little outing.  As we were walking home, Josh was skipping behind me, stopping every once in a while to pick up just the right branch.  Out of nowhere, he says, "I'm happy."  He wasn't really telling me.  Just saying it because he felt it.  The best part of my day was hearing him say that.

Then today, as we were getting out of the car after picking Josh up from school, he saw me loaded up with jackets and his backpack and chicken costume. (Today, the students at his school got to dress up as cartoon characters.  He chose Chicken Little.  Gillian had me sew her a magician's hat yesterday because she wanted to dress up as Presto, the magician from the 80s cartoon, Dungeons and Dragons.  Seriously.)  I was trying to balance all this stuff and get Jack out of his carseat, and Josh came up and offered to carry all of his stuff inside.  He beamed when I told him that it was a very gentlemanly thing to do.

THEN, this afternoon, he told me that my diet is working because I seem 'straighter' to him.

Oh that boy.

Follow Your Heart...not!

This past weekend, our pastor talked about repentance.  He said that repentance starts in the heart.  Our sin needs to make us sad.  We need to feel remorse.  We need to agree with God that this sin is messing us up rather than attack God and His character because He says we can't have what we think we need or want or deserve. 

There is a point of view that says that we can go ahead and sin since God created us with that particular bent toward that particular sin.  That we are born a certain way and have no choice but to give in to our instincts.

We need to quit blaming something or someone else for our attitudes and behaviors.  We need to own up when we mess up.  Not minimize or justify it.  We are not entitled to go around contining in our sin, getting ticked off when it screws up our lives.  (speaking from experience here.)

I haven't yet been successful in ridding myself of sin.  and I'm certain that I am not the exception to all the generations of people who have ever existed.  I will sin.  I will make a royal mess of my life.  But I will NOT give up trying to abstain from the things that God says are bad for me. Though I will likely resist at first.  I'm going to trust God and not the way I feel about it.

Jeremiah 17:9 says "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?"

Don’t follow your heart! You must lead it. As 1 Samuel 7:3 says "direct your heart to the Lord."

Paster Mike said it this way:  "You have no control over the future. You life hangs in the hands of God. We are here, not because we are masters of our fate, nor because we are the captain of our soul, but because Jesus Christ holds all things together.

Every time you and I sin, we must direct our heart, we must reorient our hearts to God. Instead of saying, “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul,” we say, “Lord, You are the Master of my fate. You, Father, are the captain of my soul.”

Trinkets vs. Relationship

We've gone to a new church for the past two weekends.  We are really liking it.  A lot.  The pastor had coffee with Ben this afternoon.  I'm so grateful for people in our lives that will reach out to us like that.  I'm going to their Women's Bible Study tonight on Proverbs 31.  I'm really excited to be in a ladies small group again.

The two sermons that we've heard at this church were on 1 Samuel.  Two weeks ago, Pastor Mike talked about 1 Samuel 3 and how Eli was asleep in the dark while Samuel had positioned himself by the light.  Samuel was called to serve God, and Eli's end - and ultimate seperation from God - was foretold.  This past weekend our pastor discussed 1 Samuel 4, where the Israelites were in a battle with the Philistines, and they brought the Ark of the Covenant into the battle thinking that they could use it as a good luck charm to win the battle.  They remembered how God had told Joshua to carry it around Jericho right before Jericho fell.

They had missed the point.  They weren't relying on God.  They were treating the Ark as a trinket to be manipulated and used against their enemies.

I'm no better.  I will neglect God, and then read my Bible for an hour, expecting Him to show up and solve all my problems when (and only when) my own means don't do anything.  As if reading the Bible summons The Great Almighty.  As if reading my Bible tricks God into thinking I have done my part to build a relationship with Him, and now He needs to get on the ball and make some of those promises come true.  It's all so very disrespectful.  As Pastor Mike said, "That’s not faith. That’s manipulation at its worst, and superstition at its best. "



God let the Ark get captured by the Philistines.  He allowed many thousands of Israelites to lose their lives.  Because "God wasn't going to let them profane His worship any longer."

One of the best parts of the sermon was when Pastor Mike said this:

In his fabulous little commentary on 1 Samuel, Dale Ralph Davis writes this, which in my opinion, sheds a lot of light on these questions: “The text forces two important implications upon us: Yahweh will suffer shame rather than allow you to carry on a false relationship with him; and Yahweh will allow you to be disappointed with him if it will awaken you to the sort of God he really is,” (1 Samuel, 55).



See, the people thought that they couldn’t lose the battle with the ark in their camp. They had begun to place their hope in an object instead of in God. Even more, they had begun to see God as an object to be used instead of the Lord who needs to be worshiped.


And God was not willing to allow them to stay in that place.


You see, God will allow us to misunderstand His intentions and be disappointed in Him for a time, in order to bring us into correct relationship with Himself."

If you'd like to hear more, you can go here to hear the whole sermon. 

God-Lite

I started a diet about a week ago.  I also joined a gym, which is a first for me.  Let me tell you - it's been awesome!!!  I love reading my Nook while busting it on the treadmill or listening to a song or two from the LOST Season 4 Soundtrack while sweating like a pig in the steam room.  Jack LOVES the Kid Club area which is a bonus.  It's nice to actually do something that I hope will result in less back pain and a healthier me.

Yesterday after church, I picked the kids up some lunch from the golden arches.  They asked for pies.  (Seriously, pies!  I tried to convince them to get a burger or something to go with their pies, but honestly, that's just bad with a side of awful.  So I let them have pies for lunch!) 

Obviously, I didn't have any pie.  (If I'm going to screw up my diet, it's gonna be on the Girl Scout cookies I have in my freezer that I bought from a dear friend and not on a silly McD's pie!)  But the SMELL of the pies in the car as the kids were enjoying them was just strong enough to let me know that they would TASTE pretty yummy.  The smell of the pies gave me a hint of what my taste buds would have enjoyed had I taken a bite.

And I realized that I experience God in sort of the same way.

When I went shopping for groceries last, I picked up fat-free sour cream, 75% fat-free cheese, skim milk, light mayo, sugar-free pudding.  Smelling that hint of apple pie made me wonder whether I have a Light God.  Maybe an anger-free God.  Or a wrath-free God.  Or a 75% good God. 

I have always been aware that my understanding of God, my 'version' of God, is just a hint of Him.  That when I die and go to heaven and meet Him face to face, I will meet THE GOD, exactly and 100% as He is.  Full-Authority God.  100% Evil-Free God.  100% Love and Grace God.  High in Justice and Mercy.  Saturated with Good and Holiness and Righteousness.

My hint of Him, my blurry, static-y, light version of Him makes me incredibly terrified and overwhelmingly eager to meet the whole Him!  I can hardly imagine Him being MORE than how I 'see' Him now.  But won't it be awesome (!!!!!) to be able to experience Him exactly how He is!!!  Better than actually biting into that McD's apple pie, I'm sure.

fully living life

First, go here and read about this amazingly brave chick with cancer.

Then, go to THIS link and prayerfully consider helping her out.  I haven't been able to get her off my mind and can't wait to read about how she enjoys her trip to Africa, holding babies, learning to knit, volunteering, getting her hand tattoo'd!  (Gillian is super eager to hear whether she actually gets to pet a lion!)

and if you can't donate, at least please pray for Crystal and the team flying out to Africa in two weeks.  That everyone involved would hear God's love song and sing along.

Dear Gillian

Dear Gillian,

Honey, I am so proud of you.  You are a sweet, kind, loving young girl.  You are so smart and imaginative.  You are beautiful inside and out.  You are very friendly and always try to involve everyone when you have a fun idea. 

I know that when we moved here, and you had to start first grade at a new school that you were a little nervous.  You had heard of bullies before and were afraid that this school might have some.  What relief when you came home that first day of school after hearing your principal say that your school was to be a Bully-Free zone!!  I remember your words exactly - "Mom!  Bullies aren't even allowed at my school!"

I'm so sorry that you have been let down.

As your mom, there is a part of me that wants to drop-kick some of your classmates.  There's also a teeny-tiny part of me (the chicken part of me) that wishes that you could be 'you' at home and that you could be whoever it took for your classmates to leave you alone at school.  But mostly, I am sad.  I am sad that kids get picked on.  I am sad that those mean kids aren't even giving you a chance.  I am sad that a lot of kids who do actually like you and have fun with you end up following the loudest bullies because they are afraid that they will be bullied if they stand up for you.  and I am sad that they make you doubt how incredible you truly are.

I LOVE that you march to the beat of your own drum.  That you aren't just like every other little girl out there.  I love that you love Jesus and that you aren't afraid to tell everyone you meet about Him.  I pray that your classmates don't ever steal that away from you.  I pray that you don't let them change you.  That you continue to gallop like you are a knight on a horse during recess because you like it, and it makes you feel strong and brave.  That you feel free to wear that dress that makes you feel like a Narnian queen.  I pray that you continue to sing with your whole body.  I pray that you continue to be friends with that sweet girl who everyone picks on, even though they pick on you for being her friend.

You are enough!  You are worthy!  You are incredible!  You are lovable and special and unique and amazing!  You ARE wanted.  You ARE a joy to be around.  You ARE lovely. No matter who says you aren't.  and I'm not just saying that because you are my daughter.  Ask around.  You are VERY loved and adored!  But I am so blessed to get to be your mom.  God must REALLY love me.  and I know that He REALLY loves you.

School can be tough.  Everyone is figuring out where they fit on the totem pole of the world.  Fix yourself to the things that God says are important.  Kids will say things they don't mean to see what your reaction will be.  They might be trying to find out if they have any sort of power or control over you.  If they discover that they can upset you, they will know where to go when they need to do something awful to someone.  I imagine that a lot of the time, they are hurting too and just need to feel powerful for a little bit.  For some weird reason, it makes them feel better.  I know that I have said my fair share of things that were hurtful because I felt empty and afraid.  I don't want to defend your classmates' despicable behavior, but please continue to be gentle.  Be compassionate.  You don't have to be friends with everyone, and you don't have to put up with anyone trying to tear you to shreds.  But be kind.  Don't let them bring you down to their level.  Treat people the way you want them to treat you.  And hopefully they will.

I love you dearly. 
mom