My Joyful Mysteries, and A Revolution of Real

Call it wishful thinking but I would really like if the people I live with would make some New Years Resolutions. I love my children so much. They are amazing, funny, and a gift from God.  They are also busy, scattered, and need a little guidance on how to act like they are not being raised on a commune of all-potty-humor-all-the-time .  I don’t think there is such a thing, because my kids along with my husband would be on the next bus there…

So Here’s Their Resolutions, even if they don’t know about them.

12. This year I will take my lunch out of my back pack every day, and unpack it especially on Fridays. I will not leave it in the back of Mom’s car.

11. I will not cut my own hair.  Ever. And I will not tell my Mother she has NO idea what less is more means.

10. I will not put my clean laundry back in the laundry pile, because I’m too busy reading “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” to put it away. Clearly I have been SO efficient they haven’t realized that they are creating mounds of work for me.

9.  I will not fart during family movie night in a silent but deadly way and then blame it on the dog, or my Aunt, or my Mom…or my wife. I will not fart loudly in a public place, or on my Aunt Katie.

8.  I will flush the toilet, even if I think what I left was impressive and I want to show it later to Dad — I WILL flush it.

7.  I will know that leaving the house requires clothes.  And especially when going to church.  And I will remember it is never okay to just wear one sock to church with shorts on.

6.  I will answer when my Mom tries to discipline me rather then saying, “What? Huh?  Me? What? Did you say something Mom? Whaaah? What? Me? Huh?”

5.  I will not pick my nose during church.  I will not lick the pew during church. I will not call out during church, “Ewwwww…What’s that smell?”

4. I will wear underwear. Even if going commando is way cooler.

3.I will not play with light sabers or balls in the kitchen.(yes I know how that sounds) 

2. I will not tell on someone when I was the first person to start the fight, quit the game, hit them, and then cry uncontrollably about the unfairness of it all. In fact I won’t say the words “No Fair.”

1. I will let my Mom run on the treadmill, shower,take a power nap or go the bathroom in peace…Unless I am bleeding or on fire I will not bug her.  I will even let her get through an entire dance routine without rolling my eyes. I will dance with her. I will let her take my makeup off, and have tea parties with me.  I will let her be overprotective about who I’m talking to and where I am and I will let her check my homework, even if I am better at Math then her. I will let her hug me goodbye, and tell me she loves me a million times a day.  I won’t be embarrassed when she starts to sing in the middle of Costco,and when she yells at someone for texting and driving. I’ll let her and Dad sing to each other and kiss too much while doing the dishes. I”ll always get her Diet Dr. Pepper. I’ll forgive her when she yells and is impatient, or starts to cry about me growing up or at a sappy Disney Channel Movie. I will take it like a champ when I lose privileges, or have to have a coming to Jesus because she and Dad are the final say. I will always listen to her stories, even if it’s the millionth time hearing them, and let her read to me even if I’m too old to be read to.  I will let her pray with me, and put her hands on me, or pray with her when she pulls the car over and says “We need to stop everything right now and pray.”

My children are amazing and beautiful.  They are a gift from God.  They are unequivocally the most amazing thing we’ve ever created. So while I think most of these Resolutions won’t fly…I can only hope number one will.   And my Resolution? To stop caring about the people who don’t like me, that I can’t please,  and stop trying so hard.  I can pray for them, and spend my energy being there for those I love. I have so many wonderful people to love and be there for.  EVEN if they cut their own hair, aren’t wearing any underwear, farted on their Auntie, or are only wearing one sock…because these creations of love are pretty darn close to perfect to me. They are just perfect for us. 

“My great concern is not whether you have failed, but whether you are content with your failure.” – Abraham Lincoln

It’s been a long time friends.  Last time we spoke I was wide-eyed and ready to enter the school year as a student.  I ordered books, and started classes. Suddenly my already full daily life became alarmingly busy as I balanced having carpool, work, three different pick ups, sports, clinic hours, class hours, and studying, so much studying. The busier I got, the less I was sleeping, and there are seriously weeks this fall I do not remember. The more I tried to “do it all,” the less I remember.

In retrospect it wasn’t the best time to go back to school — this past year has been a roller coaster. There has been so much heart ache in every facet of our family. I’ve had a sick parent. I’ve had a parent lose everything. A terrible disease almost stole someone I love. My sweet Aunt with the heart of gold went to be with Jesus.  And my brother-in-law continues to fight in the hospital after 86 days.  But through the heart ache there’s been the exhilaration of bright moments.  Light peeking through the darkness, shades of grace in the ugliest times, and glimpses of hope.  So much hope washing over us in the most uncertain times.

And that uncertainty fed my own insecurity.  I began to worry about the what if’s? What would I do when the kids are older…What would I do if something happened to DYP… What if we somehow lost everything?  I started becoming so immersed in these thoughts, and in my own grief about my kids growing up…that I went back to school, because we’d talked about it. At the time I didn’t really think about it. So what if it wasn’t my dream or what I thought I was called to? The what if’s had become all consuming.  I could taste the anxiety from the moment I woke up until I went to bed. So, I just closed my eyes trying to jump away from all the insecurity and anxiety – And jumped right into one more thing. A big thing.

The thing about doing something if you haven’t really prayed about it, is it isn’t always where you’re meant to be.

Instead of jumping in and coming to the surface, I barely was able to get a gulp of air before going back down.  One of my classes was  straightforward, I try hard – I work hard. The other class? First off hardly anyone laughed at my jokes. I worked so hard. I would study for hours…but then I failed a test.  The following week? I failed another.  I would spend hours studying and when I would look at the words they would all jumble in front of my eyes.  I cried almost everyday, whether it was from seeing another failing grade or wracking my brain trying to figure out what I was doing wrong.

One night as I sat at the kitchen table books and piles of note cards spread out before me, I could hear the hum of my husband’s voice as he read to our kids. It was during one of the hardest weeks my brother-in-law had had, and I had another test the next day.  All I wanted was to be upstairs snuggled with my family. I hadn’t really talked to my husband in weeks, and I wasn’t enjoying my beautiful amazing kids – I was tolerating them.    I began to cry as the words on the pages swam in front of my eyes, and all I could do was pray because I was not even treading water anymore. I couldn’t remember the last day I hadn’t cried, or felt like I was failing.

Failing.  Seemed to be the theme for my fall. I missed performances at my kids’ school. Failing. I forgot a birthday party Jonah was invited to. Failing. I ran out of gas.  Failing. I didn’t remember the last time I had sat down at night with my family, or worked out. I even forgot to wear mascara. Multiple times.  Fail.

And suddenly that night mixed in my tears was a little sprinkling of hope in a pretty little scripture I saw in the bible opened on the counter.  “I love you, Yahweh, my strength.  Yahweh is my rock and my fortress, my deliverer is my God. I take refuge in him, my rock, my shield, my saving strength, my stronghold, my place of refuge.” -Psalm 18:1-2

And I felt hope for my sister-in-law Susan and my brother-in-law Robert…and then I felt hope for me, in my life. In my failures: I realized that maybe, just maybe it was time to admit the obvious. I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.  I’m not one of those people who can do it all. But when things have fallen a part: when our house burnt down, when 9/11 happened and Dyp didn’t receive two paychecks, when we lost Mary, there were always little sprinkles of hope. There were always little spots of light peeking through…because no matter how ugly things have been – our faith is a beautifully strong part of our life.  Because God has always provided us what we needed. Comfort.  Grace.  Hope.  Even a doctor to prescribe an antidepressant. And the shelter of my faith helped me to right then close the books, and lay down with my family. It allowed me to long after my kids fell asleep to press my face into my husband’s neck and admit, “I can’t do this anymore. I miss you. You are my dream.”

The next day was the first test I took that I didn’t fail.

And now in retrospect I see things that were once blurry…all growing up in school I had to try really hard to do well. I wasn’t a natural really at anything, except being blonde. I failed at auditions much more than I ever got parts.  It took me a long time to make good friends.  I even had to work hard to convince DYP to fall in love with me, when I knew I was going to marry him the moment I met him.  I only work at WW because I fought hard to lose the weight, and I have worked hard to finish every half marathon I’ve done.  But I also have never taken for granted any moment of my life. Even the failures, because they are gold blog material…they meant I was living. And in those months trying to do it all, I was failing because I wasn’t living…I’d forgotten to even value my own well being, that I was worthy enough to remember my own value, even in failure.

So one term in, I’m out. I’m taking a big step back from school.  I’m back to being a Mom, writing, and being there for the people around me.  I’m back to being my husband’s girlfriend. Back to returning phone calls and being a friend. Back to working out and taking care of myself.  Back to working at the important things that are worth it to me to work hard at even if I fail. The what if’s aren’t important.  What is important is beautiful stuff that comes from making it through the ugly.  Life should never just be tolerated.

Funny how when you think you’re following your dream, you realize you were already living it…Funny how I had to fail to realize it. Funny how content and blessed I was to fail.

ps. please keep my brother-in-law in your prayers for healing, and for hope for us all.

This week I struggled with Patience, and Kindness. I was a little envious of people with less laundry, and a couple of times I was rude. I wasn’t loving or lovely at times. On a particular unloveable moment I went to take a much needed shower and when I got out I heard the most pure sound in the world, my childrens laughter. They were watching  videos from when they were little. As all four crowded together on the couch; I saw Micah with his arm loosely around Daniel’s shoulders, as Grace sat on Jonah’s lap…In that moment I saw the patience of Jonah playing a video again for Grace, I saw the kindness Daniel showed by how he was speaking, and my Micah… he radiates love.  And through all of it I saw Joy. The joy that my kids continue to teach me.  The ways they teach me to just love.

Out of all my kids, Daniel is the most like me.  He is spirited and spiritual.  He is wild and impulsive but careful as well. He’s a worrier and can speak without thinking. Is creative and would give anything to make others feel special.  All of the things about myself that I struggle with are thingsabout Daniel that make Daniel who he is. All of the things I consider my attributes are the same things that make My Daniel so incredibly special.  He longs to be a priest and serve God with his whole heart, at nine he takes this so seriously that I don’t doubt that whatever he does he will keep that in mind.  It’s not that he wants to lead a church, he just wants to serve God completely. It is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed. He waited a year to receive his First Communion because he felt he needed an extra year to prepare.  And at 9 he has shown more drive in everything he does then I think I’ve ever experienced in my whole 34 years.

Last night he sent me this email and I felt it was worth sharing with the world…because if only we could all be a little more like my Daniel.

1. I think there should be World Peace!

2. I think Soul Asylum’s song “Runaway Train” is the best song ever!

3. I think our family should some day all by united!

4. I think everyone should be treated the same.

5. I think every five cents spent by a person should provide 5 meals for a homeless family.

6. I think they should make a special kind of apartment complex for disabled people.

7. I think everybody in the world can make their dreams come true by working harder.

8. I think Jesus is the best person who ever has lived, and people who don’t believe in him are ALWAYS missing something.

9. I think the best kind of family is the kind who treat eachother with honor and respect.

10. I think I am the best I can be.

If only we could all wish for more. Prepare for more. More Loving. More compassionate. More driven.  And be More like my Daniel. Who is simply amazing just the way he is.  The best we can be. Just like my Daniel.

While I hate to say it, summer is coming to a close.  This summer has been amazing, but then again I say that every summer.  I love having my kids close- love spending time with them.  I remember years ago a woman told me “Just you wait” that eventually I’d hate summer and being with my kids…But so far that hasn’t even been close to the case.   My friends Carissa and  Elisabeth, and I were commiserating as we talked about our soon to be middle schoolers and how we are sensing the closure to that magicalness of childhood.  Jonah has grown up so much in the past four months, every day I see new changes.  His chin has become more defined, his legs are longer, and he doesn’t look little anymore. He has made some pretty mature decisions this past spring – not to do tackle football this fall in order to do fall baseball.  He has a friend who is a girl…but may be more.   It was as if I blinked and my little boy was a little man.  He is still my Jonah but I wonder if this is the last summer where he prefers to be around us.  Where he still loves being with me.  

Other things that are changing…Micah will be in school all day, Daniel will be considered one of the “bigger” kids in his school.  Grace will be in PreK.  My sister Kaitlin, My Kaitlin, is living with us. And I’m going back to school. Dyp has been so excited and supportive as I head towards my own dream of being an LMT.  I find myself more  concerned about who my kids will have as teachers then I do about my own stuff, so that hasn’t changed. My blog is also going to have some changes, as I feel more of a call towards Women’s ministry some guest bloggers have agreed to join me and write for the Joyful Mysteries. I’m so excited!  Those are good changes. 

I am usually someone who does well with change.  And some of these changes have been fabulous, but some are really scary.  I remember being about 7 and my first grade class took swim lessons at the YMCA across the street from our elementary school “St. Jude.” I hated that year.  My parents were getting divorced, and kids weren’t allowed to be friends with me any more.  I still remember the day we were supposed to jump off the diving board and someone was below to catch me.  I was terrified.  They kept telling me it would be ok, and even though I saw them, I couldn’t do it.  I told them my stomach hurt, because it did, and I refused to jump.  I looked down from that light blue diving board and just knew I would die. I knew no one would catch me.  It was too scary.  

Some of these changes remind me of that.  Watching my kids change is scary.  Letting them go is even scarier.  What if someone hurts them? What if someone breaks their heart?  How will they handle being broken?  I go through these emotions every summer but this summer is even more scary.  Maybe it’s because Jonah is asking for more independance.  Maybe it’s because his Dad agrees. But either way I feel myself paralyzed by thoughts and fears of losing him. Trying to find that balance is new for me, another change. Because whether I like it or not, summer is ending and my kids are growing up.

There are so many things I wish I could tell them…looking back at my own life, how the friends who treat you nice, those are the ones that are worth your time.  They are the ones you should spend time with.  The people that are only sometimes your friends, or seem to be only interested in you when there’s no one else around- they aren’t worth your time. I relearned that this year. I wish I could tell them, that when someone says they’re your best friend, but is mean and hurtful – spits on you to embarrass you, and constantly says things to other people about you, they are not your best friend. I wish I could tell them that while you can’t help who you fall in love with, if someone is constantly telling you how much you mean to them, but they don’t want to date because “you’re my best friend–my sister said I shouldn’t date in high school” and then they call and then stand you up or drop you off  after they break your heart and don’t ever call you again, they weren’t worth your years of love. That you will always wonder about the nicest boy you ever knew and hope his life is blessed and full, and you will always wish you’d kept in better touch with the people that showed up, when you weren’t good or worthy. That things that happened and shaped things I did and said, won’t define them later on if they are open to good. That there is so much good. That you were worthy of love and good friends, but maybe I won’t have to tell them all this.  Seriously, I’m so thankful for Taylor Swift in moments like this – she truly is a lyrical genius when it comes to growing and being broken.   

But I digress.  All these years later…my life is so much greater then the life I dreamed of then.  Once I chose to jump and allow my life to change, allow myself to dream bigger, believe in the possibility of so much more– I found so much more. And I didn’t die. 

The changes in the past year of seeing a loved one lose it all, to another person I love fight for it all, to another continue to work each day towards health has led to a whole new realization of how while I can’t “change” or carry the weight of the world, I can still jump. I can still look over the edge and know that while things may not turn out,  that people may not be who I thought they were, but there are people waiting, the people who love me are right there, and He will always catch me.  

For a while this past year I felt like I was drowning, but once I stopped trying to fight off the changes and just allowed God to be God, and myself to be flawed – to be broken, to be uncomfortable I realized I wasn’t alone — in more ways than one.  

Change is inevitable.  And sadly so is evil.  But the good will always prevail, when there is the promise of hope.  Regardless of how scary the water is below my feet, how deep, how dark it seems, I’m going to jump.  I’m going to close my eyes tight and hope and pray for the good. 

And when I come to the surface, my eye lashes may be heavy, but I hope to blink a few times and see the people that have treaded with me and cheered me on…my sisters, my friends, my parents, my beautiful kids that are such a testament of the kind of love I pray they will know someday, and my best friend – who called me first, the man who drove 8 hours once to take me to coffee, whose passion for everything inspires and leads, and who loves me so completely and envelopes me daily with the security of a love and joy so powerful that my knees still get weak and is so much better then anything I imagined.  Back then when I watched the light dance on the wall dreaming in high school, I was afraid of change, not because I had the wrong dream- but because I didn’t know how good it could be. How good the One who caught me is.  He is faithful. He is always there. 

The summer is ending.  My family is already in the water.  So I jump.  I prevail. I join them.  

My Grace.

Is four. She is full of life and spunk.  She loves wearing dresses with her brothers boots and singing Adele on the back porch.  She likes to listen certain days, and likes to push the limits on others.  She loves to giggle, hates smelly breath, and twirls and jumps and dances.  She is reckless with her love and her imagination.  She knows she is loved.  She knows what it’s like to be really really sick.  Yet, she still loves her doctor and likes to pretend she’s her at home.  She makes me nervous around swimming pools and water in general…she does everything feet first with her entire being. She has no fear, unless it’s spiders.  She loves her feet, they are scraped and usually dirty from the sand box and cement on the way there. They are small like mine, and take a long time to grow, but look like hers. They are uniquely hers.   She loves her hands, she bites her finger nails still but once in a while she doesn’t and gets to have her nails painted.  She loves ner knees, she likes to color on them with markers.  She loves her arms, they are strong.  She can do pull ups and headstands, she loves to wear dresses and flex her muscles and does a mean hula.  She loves her legs, her shins are always bruised from falling, jumping.  Her ankles are small, just like mine.She loves her hair, she flips it around, gets it tangled and recently has decided she only wants to wear it down.  Her eyes are expressive. Her mouth uses words like “Actually” and “And then I was…” but she is still a very little girl.  Her favorite books is an old school Fairy Tale book that I’ve had to tape up.  She loves to tell me the story of Goldilocks.  She loves glitter and pink.  She loves kicking “butts.” She can be bossy, but also just wants to be heard.  She is just as easily Spiderman as she is a princess. She wants to be a doctor and a unicorn when she grows up, and a girl who eat Lollipops and Chicken.

And I am terrified for her every day that she will find her self worth tied up in her looks.  That she will find her self worth tied up in if she’s the best.  Tied up in what size she wears.  I am terrified for my daughter to live in this world.  Kids are still mean, but the internet is meaner. And the imagery, the grade of perfection, the pressure  terrifies me.

So I’m going to let a little loose in this post.  I’m going to swear a little.Because I’m pissed off. And I’m going to challenge all of you, my small handful of readers if you have a daughter to think about these things…for the sake of our daughters…for the sake of our daughters…for the sake of Grace…

1. Stop putting yourself down in front of your kids.  Stop using the word fat.  Or asking your husband, “Do I look fat?” Stop talking about your flab, and stop allowing your kids to start to think you are not good enough, that you are not beautiful. That your self worth is in how you look.  It’s NOT. Also stop talking about other people being fat, stop using the word. It’s stupid. Not because I’m politically correct, because it’s mean.  I can honestly say I was obese. I had a doctor tell me that.  While it was true, I will never forget that moment, and I already knew that…SO STOP. Shut UP!

2.  For the Sake of our Daughters, stop using your own issues with food in your parenting. Don’t make your kids paranoid about organic produce, and if they use a little mayo. Offer good choices, lots of them,  but no child should be paranoid about hydrogenated corn syrup.  Dairy Queen is not from Satan, everything should be ok in Moderation. Yes, even french fries.   Don’t put your issues on your kids. No one is overweight from Apples. No one is overweight from Carrots.  No one is overweight from eating a piece of bread. Cleanses are dumb.  Again Moderation.  Just like the “clean the plate” club was one of the worst ideas ever so is this ultra clean eating food trend.   And maybe you don’t push your ideals on your kids, but maybe you haven’t eaten the same meal as your family since your kids were born, and you talk openly about the dangers of “certain” food…well then you might as well just refer back to number 1.

3. Compliment your kids on who they are, not just if they got a great grade, but on the fact that they cleaned up their books, that they led the prayer during dinner. That they shared their blanket when their brother was cold.  Teach them about volunteering and charity.  Compliment them on their uniqueness not just on their looks. The same should go for our friends, our family members.

4. For the Sake of our Daughters limit their internet access, and the E channel. Remove Magazines that promote fitness and dieting because I’m not saying they should be sheltered from it, but they aren’t mature enough to know that their brains are growing and they need sustenance which is food.  While your at it, limit your own as well.

5. Don’t compare yourself to others, and don’t compare them to others, and don’t let them compare themselves.  I’ve heard it over and over and I agree, Comparisons are deadly.  They are.  Truly.

6.  For the Sake of our daughters, don’t take them to “Victoria’s Secret” with you, or watch the “Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show” with you…or let them look at “Abercombie and Fitch” Ad’s…Because really? Or Sports Illustrated Swimsuit addition…What do they promote? Nothing kids need.  Nothing close to what makes someone truly beautiful.  What is beautiful is watching my Mom play basketball with my son Daniel and getting the giggles.  What is beautiful is us all holding my sister Melissa when her husband was deployed in Iraq and we were at a family wedding, as we cried together.  What is beautiful was watching my sister Erin deliver my niece Maya, and seeing their faces together for the first time.  What is beautiful is dancing with my sister Hannah in her full length mirror and laughing.  What is beautiful is having my youngest sister Kaitlin fall asleep on my shoulder, as I admire her super awesome mascara and watching her so peaceful.  Those are beautiful things.  When we start confusing physical beauty and sexiness with true beauty when we are young…we fail to see what is truly beautiful. It’s not in a sparkly bra that’s too small with a spray tan on a beach or a runway…it’s in watching Grace sing in my rear view mirror, her face covered in jelly and lip gloss.   They have plenty of time to be grown ups, to focus on sucking in their stomach’s and worrying about stretch marks after they have babies…let them be kids.  Let them be authentically beautiful. Show them what authentically beautiful is.

7.  Teach them the art of not being the best. About knowing what it’s like to fail. Because failing isn’t the worst thing in the world. Perfection is overrated, and pretty annoying.  And forgive them, and teach them how to forgive themselves and others.

8. For the sake of our daughters, don’t be a gossip or a mean girl.  For the sake of our daughters, be reliable and follow through, and show them how beautiful kindness can be. Exercise should be fun, sweating isn’t gross, and you shouldn’t be afraid of doing either.

9. Tell them the facts of life before they learn them at school, or by watching “Sex in the City.”

10. For the Sake of Our Daughters, tell them it’s ok to trust their instincts. That if someone makes them uncomfortable to tell you…that they don’t always have to be polite. Protect them, and teach them how to trust themselves.

11. If you’re raising a Boy, show him how to treat a girl.  My boys hold doors open. We aren’t raising them to pull hair, tease meanly.  They are respectful.  If a boy likes Grace but is mean to her, I’ll tell her,”Well how do your brothers treat you? How does Daddy treat you?”  And then I’ll have her point him out to Micah who will promptly kick his ass.

12. For the Sake of our Daughters, If you are like me, and have lost a tremendous amount of weight in the past, don’t ever say you don’t remember who you were back then.  Celebrate the change, but don’t over emphasize it, or make it seem like you are more worthy now.  That’s bullshit.  I was just as good of a Mom then, as I am now.  Yeah I was overweight, and yeah, I wasn’t as happy in my own skin, but I was worthy of Love.  My kids thought I was beautiful, my sisters thought I was beautiful and my husband loved me for who I was and I was worthy of his love.  Don’t ever let size determine your worthiness.  EVER.  For the sake of our daughters…show them they are worthy by loving yourself. I remember who I was, and she was me, I was worthy.

13. Teach them about God.  About how God is Love.  About how God loves us no matter what, and how great his love is.  How Comforting he is.  How we are never alone.

A few months ago Grace and I had a tea party.  We sat at her little table in her room.  She picked out my bright blue 80’s prom dress for me and a pink boa.  She work her glittery dress that is ripped on the bottom and two different shoes. We both wore pink lipstick. She told me I was beautiful, and I was absolutely enchanted with her as we drank lukewarm tea and giggled together.  And then I saw what she saw…The person who has been with her her entire life sat and was focused just on her, I was wearing a fancy dress she chose and there I sat with my Grace who is the essence of Beautiful.  Who believes she is beautiful for all of the right reasons.

I told her that and prayed with every ounce of my being that that moment would stay with her.  And then I realized something…

The first voice she heard from the moment she developed ears was the echo of mine.  The rhythm of the cadence of my voice.  When she was lifted out of me and they placed her next to my face she heard my voice.  My voice spoke softly to her as I brushed the wispy hairs from her forehead as she nursed, my voice said prayers over and over again to her as she cried, she heard me say her name over and over again.  The name I picked when I was in grade school in case I ever had a girl…Grace. I love the way her name sounds.  “Grace. Grace. Grace. You are precious. You are Loved. Grace Mary.” I am the voice that has soothed the scrapes and has been in her ear when she received stitches twice and had countless procedures when she started having kidney infections. I am the voice who has read to her most nights. The first voice she hears most mornings. I am the voice who has sung “Amazing Grace” to her ever since the day she was born. My voice carries a lot of weight, because she has heard it her whole life. And so I intend to use it for good. I intend to do everything I can to help her to hear my voice until all the other voices come in and tell her what beauty is. What being worthy is.  The voices that lie, and hurt.  The voices that take.

For the Sake of my Daughter I’m fighting back.  For the Sake of someone I love so dearly who has believed these lies, become a prisoner to them, I refuse to give up.  I refuse to stop fighting for their lives.

My Grace.

Is four.  She is full of life and spunk. She is beautiful.  She is worthy.  Always.

One of the first posts I ever wrote on my blog years ago was about Jonah.  He was in Kindergarten.  Today as I worked on the calendar, looking at his upcoming 5^th Grade Promotion and deadlines for middle school paper work, I went back and read over that post.  It’s amazing how little he was. It’s amazing how many things have changed.  Today I am sharing a post, with in a post.  The one in Italics is the first one I wrote, those experiences of Jonah’s first experience with rejection clearly taught me I wasn’t prepared for how much it would hurt to see my child hurt, and ache.  In a perfect world I would keep my kids in a bubble. I would surround them with all of the things I want them to see – to know…that God is good, that they are good, and that they are so very loved. And please God don’t let them be hurt or damaged.  And yet…things happened to my Jonah.  Not all of them have been good.  But he still is.

There are certain things a person just doesn’t forget.  Your first friend: Mine’s name was Tina. She was invisible and spent her days living in a mansion with her mother and then visiting her blind father in a shack by a large water-tank.(Even at five I was just a tad dramatic) I remember sobbing in my grandparents pop-tent admitting to my sister Missy, that she was in fact, gasp, make-believe.  Then there is your first haircut/perm what have you: Mine was a perm twisted and pinned together by my mom.  I remember it stunk and pulled and I looked very much like the lead singer from Twisted Sister when it was done.   And of course the first time being left out:  I was in first grade and was the only girl in my class who was not invited to a birthday party where they were going to see “Girls just want to have Fun.”  And I really wanted to! That was my first experience with that raw shaky feeling of rejection.

So maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised when my Jonah on the second week of school got in the car, his big blue eyes all welled up as he said, “I’m just so sad.  I can’t even tell you about my day.”  After a bit of prodding (okay, a lot) he said as tears escaped down his cheeks, “___ said he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore!”  As I kissed his salty cheeks and hugged him tight, I fought back my own tears.  I knew this wasn’t the last time he’d feel this quake in his heart, but I’d wished it could have been later. Like maybe when I was older and could be a wiser mom and he would be older and wiser than me.  But since I’m not older, I did the wisest thing I knew how.  I talked to him about feeling sad, and told him that maybe his friend was tired and just meant he didn’t want to play anymore today.  I said that sometimes friends say things even when they don’t mean it, and that I bet that tomorrow he’d probably want to play again. (This of course after I called a few experts — His Dad, my Mom, Em, and Christina)  And then after another few allowed kisses I did the next best thing I knew, distraction in the form of Strawberry Frappuccino’s and video games at Em’s.  I told myself all the things I’d heard:  this is normal, this is part of socialization, this is life.  But that little girl with the 80’s mullet in me couldn’t help but think, “It isn’t fair!”  But maybe that’s half the battle of parenting.  Figuring out that when our kids hurt it affects us and learning how to help them   and sometimes that means calling for help and swallowing the lump in our own throats.

It’s been a month since Jonah’s just-so-sad day at school, and he and ___ have played almost every day.  But it seems like weekly I’m seeing changes in him, and watching him experience all the pains that come with growing up.       And I feel a little quake in my heart getting ready to celebrate his sixth birthday tomorrow, knowing these firsts will become seconds then thirds, and someday my little boy won’t be so little anymore.

Later the month after that incident with the little boy, Jonah made a new friend, Nicholas.  Since that moment they have been inseparable.  It has been such a blessing for my son to have a friend he can share things with, interests and laughter, and can completely be himself with.  And then he made some other friends, his friend Quinlin and his friend Brailey.  The other boy? He and Jonah aren’t friends at all.  In fact, he wasn’t that nice of a kid. Fast forward five years… Jonah has played Football, and has fallen in love with the game of Baseball. And his dream is to be an announcer someday.  And he realized while it’s fun to shoot baskets he doesn’t have a future in Basketball.  He has played the piano at weddings and funerals, and in front of our church congregation. He got braces. He loves fishing and is such a joy in our house.   But sadly that lump in my throat, the one I had that with that first experience of rejection… it rested and stayed put a large part of this year, as my beautiful son was picked on by an unlikely source. As a parent I felt completely helpless, sleepless nights as I tried to figure out how to best remedy a situation that left my child self-conscious, shattered. I went to dinner with some friends, and sobbed, horrible ugly crying.  I watched my brilliant son who read me the newspaper when he was 4, began to think he was stupid.  It was almost as bad as the time he had his pants pulled down, intentionally in front of the entire First Communion class by another boy, and the parents didn’t even have the gall to apologize to me, after their son humiliated my son who cried for days. It made my blood boil and yet, I had to be an adult.  Even though I have fanaticized about it, I have still not punched that father in the face at Church – because I am a good Catholic, but I’ve had to go to confession many times thinking about it, and this was almost four years ago.  So after doing everything I could do to remedy it, I did the next best thing…I prayed.  And prayed.  And pleaded to God to give Jonah back some confidence, and give him some peace.  Especially after a night that he told me he thought our family theme for this year was perseverance…”Because it’s been a really hard year for me Mom.”

And suddenly some amazing things happened… Jonah won a Poetry Contest for the entire school district.  It was a huge deal, not because of the monetary prize but because of the boost it gave him.  Then a windfall of other big, good things, happened, and I saw something in his eyes that hadn’t been there for months: Joy. And not all of them were big, but Jonah has never expected big.  His entire life he has been appreciative of even the smallest things…so the big and small things happened.  And I saw his perseverance paid off.  The prayers paid off, and Jonah ended up having a good year, and what was a very hard situation ended up being resolved for the most part.

And now he’s off to middle school…

So, when he’s big there are some things I want him to remember… that when we found out we were pregnant his Dad swung me around and around.  And even though we had planned on waiting a few years to get pregnant (we made it a whole four months) that it was the best surprise of our lives.  I want him to remember how being open to God’s will and making it our own made us better people.  I want him to remember that the day he was born changed our lives forever, and how he was perfect looking with curly blond hair and bright blue eyes.  I probably won’t share for a loooong time that he came out sunny-side up which gave him that perfect look, but I will share how his eyes were wide open when he entered the world.  I want him to remember he’s been that way since day one, eye’s wide open, observing the whole world, a sponge learning and memorizing everything.  I want him to remember that I thank God every day that he is my oldest son.   That I think he is an amazing big brother.   And anyone would be blessed to be his friend.

And of course there are the things he won’t forget, because I won’t let him.  His first friend: Cathy, they’ve been friends since they were two and he has since called her “my girlfriend”.  His fierce loyalty towards her has been tested through different schools, schedules, and her pronounced love for Jesse McCarthy.  His first haircut:  The one and only time his dad was allowed to cut his hair he came out looking like he was a prisoner of war.  And maybe he’ll remember that first feeling of rejection, and then again maybe not. 

I know that Jonah will never forget this year. I know he won’t forget many of the things that transpired, but I think he would agree that he is stronger than he ever imagined.  He witnessed his parents fight for him, and he knows that we will always believe in him. All of our faith has grown.  I am so proud of him.   He and Cathy don’t talk anymore expect for a shy hello, but she wrote a paper about him this year, and I have hope for the future that they will become friends again.  He has a little Mohawk now, perfect baseball hair and has had the best hitting season yet in baseball, and does his own Aaron Rodgers move every time he has a good play. I spent the second half of his school year volunteering a lot, and have spent a lot of time with his class, and he always hugs me and smiles and laughs at my jokes…he seems proud to be my son, and those moments have made my entire year.  His laugh is the same, even though his feet are bigger than mine and he has to wear deodorant, his laugh is still a little boys.  And the sound of his laugh is one of my favorite things.  I always want to remember that, because he’s not a little boy anymore, and that’s hard for me to shake.

His birth changed my life.  It transformed me as a person. He taught me this year to never give up. My eleven year old taught me to persevere, even when you feel shattered.  And I thought I was the one teaching him…and yet he has taught me so much.

 I want him to remember is that he is a beloved Child of God, and with his birth our hearts shook wide open and have been brimming ever since.  After all there certain things you never forget.  And I could never forget him.  He’s my first.  

Get off your computer, look up from your phone, and look around you.  Make eye contact with people. Be present. Not just standing there…but Be There.

Don’t let the way you feel about your body and your look dictate how you live your life. Don’t hide.

Be a good friend. Return calls. Show up. Remember the People who Showed up.

Let someone else do the job.  Don’t hide behind that whole “It won’t get done right” because that just means you don’t like the way they do it.  Give up Control.  Let God be God.

Remember your soap box isn’t everyone else’s and research your soap box before you share it, post it.

Be friends with people who aren’t negative or complain about everything, because they’ll turn you into someone who is negative and complains a lot.

Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Say “I forgive you.”

Run for Office, Support a cause you believe in, Volunteer.

Support law enforcement, and schools, and bond measures for both.  Always.

Say the most honorable words that are underutilized: No.  Set Limits.

Pray for someone you don’t like.

Pray with someone you love.

Teach your children to be gracious guests and to be appreciative souls.

Dance with someone.  

Stop comparing yourself to others.

Ask someone else how They are…

Exercise. Drink Water. Eat Fruit. Sleep.

If you don’t volunteer- show up- help out, you veto the right to complain.  And that would definitely help my life.

 Apologize. And then Forgive yourself. For Good.

Cry.

Rejoice in Other’s Victories.

Laugh at yourself. Laugh so hard you pee your pants. Laugh harder.

Love Others. Love Yourself.  Love Love Love God.

(Some background: About two years ago I started feeling called in prayer to start speaking to women.  For seven years I have spoken at least three times a week to groups about weight loss, but I started to feel the pull to do more womans ministry.  Last year I was blessed to be a key-note speaker at a womans retreat, and I felt like I did ok after the retreat…and then I didn’t.  I started thinking I’d failed.  But this Lent through prayer a new talk/ theme  started to be written across my heart…and I started writing a new retreat.)

This Lent I’ve been thinking a lot about my faith journey.  I started questioning certain parts of my life.  Where I was at.  All the ways I have been failing…All the ways I have been lied to.

Because we have all been lied to.

As Women…as Mothers…as Daughters…as Sisters…

We have been lied to.  We have spent days, sometimes years in the desert being told things about our selves that are breaking us. Piece by Piece.  Jagged little lies that slice across our bodies, leaving us cookie cutter versions of ourselves…or just broken.  Falling a part.

And I am tired.

40 Days in the desert.  40 Lies that have redefined-good women, some my friends, some of them myself. Lies that have begun to weigh heavy on my heart…many of them are not things I struggle with…but many many women do. And they are lies, lifestyles we just accept…

Do you see these lies in your life?

40 Lies we tell ourselves. 

40. That if we take pride in how we look we are vain.  And if I wear stretchy pants I’ve let myself go.

39. That if we can’t lose weight we don’t have enough self-control.

38. That we should walk on egg shells around our spouse, our sibling, our parent because that’s the way it’s always been.

37. That being mean or gossiping about someone else will make us feel better.

35.  That if we are a stay at home parent, all we have is time on our hands.

34. That if we are a working parent,  we have it all together.

33. That if we don’t breast feed; our children will be malnourished, sick, obese, or have an ear infection for the next thirty years.

32. That if we breastfeed after our child is two, we are a hippie and are going to have saggy boobs for the rest of eternity.

31. That we should feel guilty when we buy something for ourselves.

30.  That stretch marks are ugly.

29. That it’s ok for a spouse to stare  at other women.

28. That we are failing our children if we are overprotective of them they may never survive the cold cruel world.

27. That we should wear the same size we wore in high school.

26. That taking an antidepressant is a sign of failure and that seeing a counselor is weakness.

25. That we should always be the first to apologize.

24.  That the weird feeling I feel around that person is just me, not them. That we shouldn’t trust our gut instinct.

23. That it’s ok if he talks that way about other women.

22. That our love for our children will always be unconditional. And when it’s not… you are a crappy mother.

21. That I should like Reality TV and cats.

20. That it’s not that big of a deal if we miss Church.

19.  That not saying yes, makes me a bad parent.

18.  That being a good friend, means always being the one to try.

17.  That if only I had more self-confidence, I’d be happier.

16.  That the way I talk around and to my kids won’t affect them.

15. That being funny is the same as being insecure.

14. That he didn’t mean it when he said “You’re Beautiful.”

13.  That eating “blank” will make my day.

12. That I should be able to do it all.

11. Because I cry easy, makes me look weak.

10. That the fact that I don’t have a college degree makes me less worthy.

9.  That every medical thing I read on the internet is true.

8.  That if I don’t do it, no one will.

7.   That it’s a silly dream.

6.  That it’s my fault.

5. That because I love being Catholic means that I have to hear every persons opinions on why they left the Catholic church and just listen.

4. That if I don’t buy cookie dough from my kid’s school, they will learn in the dark.

3. That forgiveness should be easy. That forgiving ourselves is unforgiveable.

2. That I should be over it.

1. That I’m failing…my family.

Tired of the lies.  I am taking back my life.   Because life is not about greener grass– it’s about stopping that voice that tells we are not good.  Good. Enough.  Stopping the voice that is influenced by shiny magazines, and headlines, and pictures my friends take of themselves sleeping(still trying to figure out how they do that)  — these voices that tell me they have it all together, and I don’t.  A voice that sounds an awful lot like my own.

Because there is another voice I have heard a lot this Lent.  A voice that tells me how “Our God is a God of Miracles.” That he is going to heal this part of my heart that forever feels so completely inadequate…Because that’s all they are…Lies. Lies that have lined the part of my heart and how I feel about myself. The truth:   I have a husband who adores me and openly tells me that daily.  He has never been dishonoring or looked at another woman, but when he tells me I’m beautiful,  I don’t usually believe him.  I have four children who I know love me just as I am.  They don’t see stretch marks, or the fact that the pile of laundry is bigger then my 11 year old — they see the Mom that has dance parties with their classes and always keeps her word. To them I have all the self-confidence in the world, they don’t hear the inner dialogue, all they see is confidence.

I wish for one day I didn’t hear the lies and I could see what they see.  Because the truth is I don’t want to be a slave to these lies that in many ways have defined me.  I want to be free.  Free to embrace the love of my life without worrying that I’m sucking in my stomach.  Free to be home with my kids snuggling and not feeling guilty that I’m not doing everything, and that my house isn’t stocked with whole wheat toilet paper and organic produce.  Free to cry and not feel embarrassed.  Free to  not second guess every conversation worried that I was too funny or said the wrong thing.

Our God is a God of Miracles.

Because wouldn’t that be amazing? To be free of these lies.

Because what I see when I see all of the beautiful women who hear these voices, so similar to their own…these women who are broken by lies…I see how radiant they are.  They are beautiful.  Made in Gods perfect image…maybe they are broken, but they are beautiful, and so much better than all the lies they’ve been told is their reality.

Our God is a God of Miracles.  He is the Way, The TRUTH, and the Life.  And he Loves me.  He Loves you, even if you pretend he’s not there, or don’t hear him. I do, and he loves you. No lie.

Ash Wednesday.  This year for Lent I have decided to give up Facebook.  Facebook for me has been an amazing way for me to allow my family, and close friends to be a part of our day to day lives and the pure joy I live with that are my children…but it also has had a negative influence on my life.  I get my feelings hurt about silly things, and feel left out.  I get angry by passive aggressive comments.  And it is a huge time sucker. HUGE.

So for 40 days I’m not signing in.  And I’m ok with that. I may have shared this before…but when I was in high school I gave up gum, and have only chewed it twice since and detest it now.  One year I gave up matching socks and my socks today still never match, and suddenly it’s the style.  I’ve given up celebrity gossip(twice). I’ve given up putting myself down.  I’ve given up lattes(still the hardest to date).  I’ve always been tempted to give up a “food” thing, but I know myself that it wouldn’t be a healthy fast, for the right reasons. But it’s a real sacrifice to give up Facebook.

Instead I want to spend the next 40 days focusing on the things around me, the people, the experiences.  Nothing hurts my feelings more then being with someone and having them text the whole time, or have them looking at their phone.  So I’m going to work on being present.  I did it over the summer as a fast and it was a great experience.  I’m looking forward to this time.  I’m also looking forward some devotionals we are doing as a family, a bible study I’m going to be leading, and once again focusing on the real stuff, like living my life, not “liking” everyone else’s lives.

Recently one of my children went through, and is still experiencing, a very hard experience with someone in their life.  When I met with this person, to discuss the situation, what really bothered me when it all was said and done was how often they used the word “I” and “Me.” How every situation and circumstance came back to how it affected “them.” Nothing about the issue that was about my child, the real reason we were meeting.

Later as I thought about the situation and then my own life, I thought about how many things I make all about Me.  Of course as a parent I’m always prone to think about my kids first.  But I really think a lot about myself, especially when it comes to my own self worth that I’m sure affects other parts of my life — and I want to work on that, and really work on not letting the small stuff cloud my mind, focusing on the things that really matter.

I think sometimes when we are so focused on ourselves, we do things that truly hurt other people without thinking about the ramifications.  Like starting a discussion, using hurtful – pointed accusations but giving the other person no room to share their own take without sounding offensive.  By asking for advice, but using the advice against the person later.  By letting our own issues, become our children’s issues. By not advocating for our families, because we are afraid of looking like a “bitch.” By saying yes, even though we are exhausted and over extended because we don’t want to let people down. The list goes on and on…

And it’s always all about Me. Even yesterday I got jealous of my own husband for getting to work out when I couldn’t run because we had a sick child.  Really?! I can’t rejoice in his self care?  That is not ok.

So, this Lent, I’m working on just that.  Because it’s not just about me.  And after the experiences I’ve had even with the circumstance and my son, I’ve realized I need to be present. So I’ve had to make some hard decisions. I’ve had to step back from what in many ways was a dream job, to be more present to my family, even when that meant letting someone down.  I’ve had to say yes to certain things, and no to a few others. I’ve had to step back and decide to not run a Full Marathon because I can’t afford to be away from my kids this much.

Ash Wednesday is the start of a 40 Day journey toward the death of our Savior,  and a sacrifice He made for us.  And what came after…it was all about Us.  It is about much more then is right here. It is about so much more then the day to day crap that bogs us down. It is about eternity.  And I believe that, with my whole heart.

And this time with my kids, this age, as hard as some things have been, is also a mystical -magical journey…there is as much mystery in Parenting as there is heartache, and equal the amount of joy.  And like Lent…before I know it…this time will be a memory.