Month: November 2018

I took the boys to have their pictures professionally taken this morning.  Yes, it’s  a school day.  They were extremely distressed about missing school.  Seriously. Eli was worried about perfect attendance and exempting exams.  He has missed exactly ZERO days all year.  Who do these people belong to?  I was begging to skip out on school at their age!  Anyway, to say that it was freezing is not an exaggeration. It was literally freezing–32 degrees this morning . . . outside pics. I’m hoping they aren’t all going to look like Rudolph because those noses and cheeks were shining by the time they got back into the warm car . . . which I sat in while they took pics.  No judgement please!  On the way to the appointment, they were all fairly quiet.  It was early and cold so the trip to the location was fairly uneventful.  However when they got back into the car whining about hypothermia and child abuse, personalities were out in full color. 

This is my account of the car ride back to school. 

FORTY MINUTES 

Fort Valley to Ellaville

First of all, they are hungry.  Of course they are!  I cooked them a healthy breakfast before we left home so we wouldn’t have to stop and get them something to eat.  Nevertheless, being the sweet and attentive mother I am, I stop at a gas station.  I tell them to get a small snack that will hold them over until lunch. They come back with honey buns . . . two per child.  Apparently this “small snack” was on sale–must be a holdover from Black Friday.  They were exceedingly proud of themselves.    It didn’t take long for the sugar to begin its work.  About 5 minutes into our trip I look in my rear view mirror and see Judah with no shirt on.  Honestly, I don’t even ask anymore. As long as the kid has a shirt on when he gets to school we are all good.  Ty tells me that one time he went to school without his shirt on.  Don’t read past this my friends without letting the full impact of that rest upon you.  My child went to school with NO SHIRT!!!!  I have no idea how I missed that.  Apparently, he thought it would be a good idea to just wear his jacket zipped up that day.  For all of you parents out there who feel like you are failing,  I hope this makes you feel better!  All this talk about shirts being off somehow leads the guys in the back to a conversation about nipples.  Judah informs the car that girls have nipples but boys don’t.  Thankfully Eli came to the rescue and let Judah know that what he said is not accurate. Eli shared the scientific reasons why women’s nipples are bigger and ends with them talking about some kid who breastfed until he was 4.  Up to this point, I haven’t said a word.  I mean, what could I possibly add.

Now please keep in mind that my 13 year old is in the front seat with me while the “little” brothers are in the back.  Dru has discovered 90’s rock and so throughout this ride we are being serenaded by bands such as Green Day and Nirvana with a little Poison and Def Leopard snuck  in for variety.  We are a music loving family, so my kids know all the words to Smells Like Teen Spirit as well as Pour Some Sugar on Me.  And, by the way, who actually knows the words to Smells Like Teen Spirit?  I’m a 90’s girl, and it’s mostly just a lot of mumbling and humming along.  Anyway, I digress.  The music is loud.  The conversations are louder.  Dru turns to me and says “Mom, look its a weed van.  That van right there has a picture of weed on it, and it says the word cannabis.”  At this point the kids in back who up until this point in the ride have been singing and talking about nipples stop what they are doing and one of them asks, “Hey mom, have you ever smoked weed?”  GOOD LORD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL!  I vowed to never lie to my kids, and so I told the truth. “Yes, I have. I tried it once when I was younger.”  The kids don’t miss a beat.  They go back to their normal banter.   All I can think about is my 3rd grader going back to school and telling his friends that his mom smokes weed. So, that was our next very short and to the point conversation.  It went like this, “Do not go to school and tell people that your mom smokes weed!”  End of conversation.  I haven’t received a call yet, so I think I’m in the clear.

We are only like 10 minutes into this ride! I’m not even kidding!  We have about 30 more minutes to go.  The intelligent conversations continue.  Now it’s boogers.  Because . . . obviously!  Apparently someone has boogers.  I now know what they look like and how said person chose to get rid of them. I will spare you those details.  I certainly wish I had been.  During the remainder of the ride, the twins sit in the back and quote one-liners from the movie Billy Madison and The Water Boy.  “Where did you see those movies?” I ask.  “We watched them with Bo when we went to spend the night!  They are funny!”  Really?  Thanks Jess!  And one of my forever favorites, Tommy Boy.  “Fat guy in a little coat.” If you grew up in the 80’s and 90’s, you say that line singing just like Chris Farly.  Ty and Eli must have sung that line 20 times–each time laughing as if it was the first.  That viewing opportunity was all me.  I can’t blame Jess for that one!

As they are quoting these very intelligent movie lines, I feel cold air come into the car.  I really shouldn’t have even asked.  I told you earlier that I had stopped asking!  But I couldn’t help myself.  And the response, “Oh, Eli is spraying water out the window.” It’s 30 degrees!  Why God . . . why are these kids trying to make me act like a maniac this morning?  I have an extreme amount of patience.  It is being pushed to its absolute outer limits!  I can’t wait for them to get out of the car. I have had enough this morning.  I need to think thoughts.  Real thoughts.  Thoughts that don’t include weed and boogers!

Finally, we make it to the school.  I drop off the bigs and take Judah to the elementary school.  I get in the car with a feeling of relief.  But then . . . that feeling of relief was replaced with something unexpected.  I felt sad and lonely in the car by myself.  As crazy as the morning was, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  I miss my guys when they aren’t with me.  Perspective hits me like a Mack truck.  I think I want quiet, but what would that quiet mean?  I think I want less laundry, but what would less laundry mean?  I think I want an immaculate house, but what would that perfectly clean house mean?  It would mean that my guys are all grown up.  They are gone.  Moved on to live their lives.  And one day they will do that.  They MUST do that.  But not yet. And I refuse to live these precious years bearing my gifts as if they are burdens as the Ginny Owens song says. (check her out below)  God knows I really don’t want that.  God knows my heart.  And so I ask him to help me with my perspective.  EVERY. DAY. 

Perspective:  A particular attitude toward or way of regarding something

   And so, I leave you with a question:

Do you need to change your perspective? 

How do you know?  Make a list of your most treasured gifts.  If any of your gripes would change or take away those things that you value most, the answer to the question is yes.

“Children are a gift from the Lord: they are a reward from him.  Children born to a young man are like arrows in a warrior’s hands.  How joyful is the  man whose quiver is full of them . . .” Psalm 127: 3-5

Number of pregnancy tests taken: 6    

Accident:

an event that happens by chance or that is without apparent or deliberate cause.

Judah was a bit of an accident.  Okay, no! That’s not exactly right. He wasn’t a bit of one.  He was a full blown how in the hell could this have happened twist of fate thrust upon our lives!  I know that I am supposed to say he was a “surprise” but whatever!  That’s just something people say to make themselves feel better.  For the first few weeks after finding out that we would be adding number 4 to the mix, we could not mentally process this information.  I even researched false pregnancy test results just in case there was a chance that SIX tests might be wrong!  Trip and I were in complete shock.  We were already the very tired parents of a 3 year old and TWO 2 year olds.  ALL BOYS!  We were drowning to say they least. 

After we got over the WTH phase of the pregnancy and moved into the “Okay, we got this” phase, we called the poor kid Susannah.  And by “we” I mean all 5 of us!  Because we were certain that this #4 surprise would be a girl. I mean, why else would God do this but to bless us with a little girl after all these boys, right??  It makes me chuckle even as I type this.  You know . . . . how we think we know what’s best.  Turns out #4 was not a girl.  So, after weeks of calling this kid Susannah, we had to figure out another boy name! And then retrain the toddlers to call him Judah instead of Susannah. 

From the moment Judah made his arrival, he was spoiled rotten.  Everyone in the family knew that this was it–the last one. And he was treated not only as if he was the last Grace baby to be born but as if he would be the last baby to born in all the Earth!  The whole family loved him to pieces.  From the very beginning, he took on the position as baby of the family like a champ.  He knew exactly where he fit into this family.  Life of the party, of course!

Because of all of his big brothers, Judah’s vocabulary developed pretty quickly. He was able to communicate very well as a toddler, but there was a phrase that he used to say that would crack us up every time.  When Trip would get on to him, he would always say, “Do you hear me, Judah?”  And for the longest time Judah would reply, “I hear me, daddy.”  It got to the point where Trip would ask him just to hear the response.  I can hear his little voice saying it all these years later.  So many memories. Many I have forgotten, but for some reason, this one stuck.  Makes me wonder . . . what is it about this memory? Or, maybe its not the memory exactly. Maybe it’s the phrase itself.

I hear me.  Oh, do I ever hear me. I hear me ALL THE TIME!  I hear all of my opinions. I hear all of my worries.  I hear all of my gripes and complaints.  All of the ways I have been wronged or hurt.  I hear me to the point that too many days I am exhausted from hearing me! Anyone relate?? 

Not too long ago, I was stressing over something.  I was inside my head going over all the scenarios.  I had been stuck in this place for days.  You know the place that I’m talking about.  We have all been there.  I knew that I was not trusting God, and so I began to talk with Him about it. As I opened up to the Lord about my insecurities and doubts, something startling happened.  Instead of hearing me, I heard Him.  “I see you.”  Three words that I heard all the way to my core.  I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s the truth.  I felt immediate peace.  The peace that Paul talks about in Philippians that passes all understanding.  (Philippians 4:7)  I felt so very loved and cared for in that moment.  Even now that feeling has lingered on.  He sees me.  Little, insignificant me.  And what is even more astonishing is that He not only sees me, but He sees you and the next door neighbor and even the coworker who drives you insane.  He sees into each of our lives.  And He will SPEAK into our souls if we will unclasp our hand, take captive our thoughts and act faithfully in listening for HIM.

It’s time to hear the ONE who speaks peace and not chaos into our souls.  It’s time to hear the ONE who knows the past, present, and future of ALL LIFE.  The ONE who sees all of our journey’s from beginning to end.  The ONE who knows that this Love + Grace clan needs a spunky, funny, attention-loving, kind personality to make our circle complete. 

I could have saved myself lots of stress and worry in those first weeks of pregnancy 10 years ago if only I had stopped hearing me and listened for HIM. 

Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.  Jeremiah 33:3

I am 5 feet tall.  And what I mean by that is I am 4’11” but with my shoes on I’m at least 5 feet.  Unless, of course, I’m wearing my favorite shoes. In that case, I would say I’m 5’2″.  My genes have also blessed me with an extremely youthful face. So, between my height and my face apparently I look about 12.  And that’s when I am dressed up fancy and looking my best! I would say I’m the size of your average 4th grader. Seriously.

In actuality, I’m 39 years 4 months and 5 days old.  I have a husband and 4 sons. My entire adult life has been spent working in some capacity.  Teaching was my profession until about a year and a half ago when I quit doing that to work at our family business.  When I first came on board with my father-in-law and husband, I was repeatedly asked by our customers if Trip (my husband) was my dad.  And when I would tell them, “No, he’s my husband!” I would always get the EXACT same response:  “You look just like a little girl!” Not a young lady or even a teenager.  A. LITTLE. GIRL.

Ya’ll.  Really?  In what alternate universe does a wife and mother of 4 want to be called a little girl? For months–months people!–I would just smile and laugh it off with a “Well, I’m not.  Look! Here are some pics of my children.”  So, here I was trying to learn a completely new profession feeling very incompetent some days and purposeless others questioning every decision that I had prayed through so fervently.   And now . . . I’m a child.

I found myself in the midst of a full blown identity crisis.

Listen, when you or someone else consistently labels you, eventually you will begin to believe it.  Think about it.  This happens with kids all the time.  We have to be so very careful with how we talk to ourselves and others.  And how we allow others to speak to us.  No one meant me any harm whatsoever.  Those people were not trying to be hurtful or insulting.  And neither would I ever intend to hurt another.  But words said without thought can set negativity in motion.

This is the place where God began to work.  I found myself with questions. Good questions. Important questions.  Who in the heck am I?  What do I like? What do I want?  What is my purpose?  Am I a little girl?

 

God began weaving and whispering as I searched for answers.  He began helping me to identify my likes and dislikes.  And even more importantly He began helping me to say yes to the things I love and no to the rest.

 

I continue to search and ask and discover.  And as I do the foundation of who I am is being etched upon my heart.  So, here goes.  This is the core of me.

I am God’s creation.  Genesis 1:27

I am known.  Matthew 10:30

I am wonderfully made.  Psalm 139:14

I am valuable.  Matthew 10:31

I am loved.  Romans 8:38-39

I am reconciled.  Romans 5:8

I am saved.  Romans 10:13

I am an heir of God.  Romans 8:16-17

I am new.  2 Corinthians 5:17

I am free.  Galatians 5:13

I am forgiven.  1 John 1:9

I am clean.  1 John 1:7-9

I am secure.  Romans 8:38-39

I am protected.  John 10:29

I am never alone.  Hebrews 13:5

I am accepted.  Romans 15:7

I am seen.  Matthew 25:34-40

I am heard.  1 John 5:14

I am not forgotten.  Hebrews 6:10

I am sealed.  Ephesians 1:13

I am strong.  2 Corinthians 12:9

I am empowered.  Acts 1:8

I am transformed.  2 Corinthians 3:18

I am chosen.  John 15:16

I am a servant.  Acts 26:16

I am an ambassador.  2 Corinthians 5:20

I am victorious.  1 Corinthians 15:57

And if you know Christ, SO ARE YOU!!!

A few minutes ago a lady came into the office.  Can you guess what she said?  Yep.  She really did. “You look just like a little girl.”  But . . . today I have my list.  I just typed it!  So, instead of wanting to body slam her, I just smiled and nodded.  No need to get in a wad.  I know what I am.  I know who I am.  More importantly . . . I know the One who is I AM.

“Jesus said to them, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I AM.'”

John 8:58