My Life — We are THAT Family

For When Motherhood Asks You to Be Brave

9:02 pm Bykristen

My teenager stood at my bedroom door unsure if she should come into the war zone. She was the only child in the house who didn’t have a fever or her own puke bowl.

We were on day six of the Apocalypse, also known as the stomach bug from the pit of Hell. Believe me, you don’t want details. But if it can be washed, it has been. And I’ve cried twice.

We canceled Spring Break plans and I warned people at the door that we were quarantined to our home.

My bedroom was littered with pillows and pallets and pathetic little people.

And I was in the middle of it.

“Mom, aren’t you afraid to catch it?” My teen asked from a safe distance. I had Lysol in one hand and an empty gatorade bottle in the other. I look down at my rumpled shirt and blew my unwashed hair out of my eyes, “Honey, I’m the Mom.”

It was a simple answer that held volumes of truth. It said:

Mothers push past our own fear of sickness, intimidating laundry piles, smells that turn our stomach and we snuggle up to sick breaths and feverish brows because that’s what we do.

We run straight into danger–whether it’s sickness, hurting kids, temper tantrums or math homework– we fight the battles instead of turning away from them.

Some days we long to hold up a white flag of surrender. But instead, we mother on.

Motherhood is about sacrifice. It’s about putting someone else’s needs in front of our own. It’s about risk. It’s about bravery.

It’s about facing our fears head on.

And sometimes it’s a very real danger-the kind that asks you to kneel beside the bed of a desperately ill child or on your knees for a desperately wayward one. The battle can be bloody and heart wrenching.

We don’t always feel strong or courageous. Some days we cry and rant, but we don’t quit. Most days, we feel outnumbered and out of ammo. But our inadequacies don’t make us any less a mother-soldier.

Motherhood is about reaching deep and when you find nothing left to give, you reach for God.

The battle of life is, in most cases, fought uphill; and to win it without a struggle were perhaps to win it without honor. If there were no difficulties there would be no success; if there were nothing to struggle for, there would be nothing to be achieved. -Samuel Smiles

I’m tired. I hurt for my kids. I’m disappointed sickness consumed our week. (But I am rejoicing that my little sick platoon can aim their vomit in a container now-silver lining).

I’m learning: When God stops you in your tracks, it’s time to slow down and pull close.

Just not too close, ifyouknowwhatImean.

My daughter returned to the Sick Room, holding two bright balloons she’d decorated for her siblings. She crossed over and handed them the simple gift and it made us all smile. Then she said the words I dreaded, “Mom, I don’t feel so well…” My husband came home a couple of hours later with the same confession.

And even though this battle is small and fleeting, I’ll conquer it. It will strengthen me for the unseen ones ahead.

Because it’s not if I’ll need to be brave again, it’s just a matter of when.

Filed UnderMy Life, Parenting 19 Comments

Remember: As Far as Everyone Else Knows, We are A Nice Normal Family

10:08 pm Bykristen

I got pulled over for speeding in a school zone the other day. It was the first time in a long time and my heart beat wildly. I frantically searched for my license and I handed it over and I said, “Throw the book at me,” only not really. He walked to the back of car and I snapped a shot of his lights in my rear view mirror. Risky, even for a blogger. He walked back to the window and said “I’m going to give you a verbal warning.” Then I got the lump in my throat and I may have told him I loved him. It’s all kind of blurry. Grace, thank you officer, I needed it that day.

I hurried on (slower) this time to the dentist. I don’t even want to tell you how long it’s been since I’ve darkened the doors of the dentist. My teeth have low self esteem and let me put it this way, I’d rather visit the female doctor every day for a week than have my teeth cleaned. Now I get to have a root canal and crown. They asked me if I wanted to pay extra for sedation. I said, “Is it like having a margarita?” Sign me up.

I had this long, confusing dream the other day and when I work up the only thing I remember about it was that the older my husband got in the dream, the more he looked like Brad Pit. I told him this while we were brushing our teeth. “Really?” he said, eyebrows raised. “Do you look more like Angelina the older you get?”

Every night when my husband gets home he does this: My kids call out “levels of pain” and wrestles them into a hold. If they can wiggle out, they get to go to the next level. It’s one of the favorite things to do. How can this be normal?

And I’m not saying who, but someone’s pants may have ripped in this Quasimoto move:

My 6 year old is the baby of the family. The other day I overheard my 10 year old son ask her why she whined and cried when she didn’t get her way. She started crying and he handed over his bag of pretzels. She looked at him and said, “I’m just really good at fake crying. It’s my gift.” She KNOWS.

Before I had children or belly fat, way back in my 20′s, I met an exhausted mom of 4 who bragged she “trained” her hair and could go 4 days between washings. I thought it was pathetic and a little disgusting. (dramatic pause) Now, I see her as the Jedi of mothers.

We are starting our Spring Break this week with two out of three kids (so far) with fever, vomiting, and freaky gastro noises. So that’s fun.

Filed UnderMy Life 28 Comments

An Epic Love Story

9:44 pm Bykristen

Congrats to random winner, Kit Jordan.

Three years ago today, I traveled to Kenya for the first time to blog about poverty and found true religion.

I took many of you with me on the life-changing trip.

I’m still amazed at how God took a willing heart and sent it around the world and turned

a small, simple yes into a House of Mercy, brimming with happy babies, healthy girls and expanding every day.

God’s funny that way.

He gives us just enough information and protects us from the big dream we haven’t grown into yet.

Because I didn’t know finding Edith would stir my heart to help her orphaned siblings, living in a rural village so far from their big sister. I didn’t know Edith would mourn them everyday in our house. I didn’t know we’d find them in desperation and we would be able to help.

I didn’t know rescuing Cindy and baby Nicholas would give us the chance to help her family allowing her mother start a business and give her siblings an opportunity for the future.

I didn’t know that digging deeper, exposing ourselves to more work and pain, would present more opportunities to love and new chances to see Jesus.

I’m glad I didn’t know.

It makes the discovery so much more powerful.

There are still so many unknowns in my life and yours, but the beauty is in the journey.

God is writing a a great love story there and here. Because I also didn’t know a mom would sacrifice $3 every month faithfully for 13 months and on the 14th month, donate $1000. I didn’t know He would compel others to do the same over and over to keep this little mission afloat.

I didn’t know He would build Mercy House thru your generosity or give us a thousand miracles to get from there to here.

But He knew.

Love’s like that: a contagious, spreading fire that cannot be snuffed out by our inadequacy or ignorance. You would think the world would overwhelm this heart of mine, but instead it’s just grown bigger for the world.

Three years ago today, I didn’t know the end of my trip was really the beginning of an epic love story.

This month, my favorite art company, Show Offs Art is loving mercy with us. You can join them by showing Christ’s love and compassion by shopping their company this Easter season. Use the word MERCY to get a 10% discount and 25% of your sale will go to Mercy House. If you’d like to win my favorite beautiful canvas, leave the name of the person who needs a little extra love in the comments as your entry.

Filed UnderGiveaways, MercyHouse, My Life 67 Comments

Why Finishing Is More Important Than Winning

8:02 pm Bykristen

She walked toward the car and I could tell by the wide grin on her face, she made the cut for the first Junior High track meet. Every week, the coaches plugged in the best times for each event, but with bad weather, the kids didn’t have much time to practice for their first meet.

“What event?” I asked, smiling at the way my daughter lives fearlessly.

“100 Meter Hurdles and the 300 Meter ones,” she said confidently.

I leave the pasted smile up a moment longer than I planned. Hurdles? My momma heart cringed.

“Great! Have you, um, done hurdles before?” I asked, my hesitancy proof of my doubt.

“Yes, today.”

Yay. (note sarcasm) “I hope I don’t fall and end up on youtube,” she laughed.

My husband, a high school hurdler tried to give her a few last minute tips. We bundled up for the cold and long meet, waiting our daughter’s debut track appearance. I was a nervous wreck.

With her hot pink spikes and hair pulled back, lean body stretching, I hardly recognized the young lady waving at me from her lane. She was such a new runner, she opted not to use the starting blocks and flinched when the gun started the race.

We cheered wildly as she ran her heart out.

With each hurdle in her path, I held my breath. She was running a fierce race, but at some point her back foot tipped the obstacle and she tumbled and fell hard — i n –s l o w — m o t i o n — right in front of us. The crowd gasped and my heart broke, not because she fell, but because I couldn’t help her up, seeing her physical pain, feeling the emotional.

But in less than a second and without thought to her bruised and bleeding body, she was up and running, hurdling over the remaining obstacles in her path.

She finished the race.

I pushed thru the crowd, searching pony tails, looking for my girl. I couldn’t find her.

After a visit to the medic, she reappeared, limping, embarrassed smile and shrug, in spite of this:

“You finished,” I said proudly.

We asked her if she was okay. She nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t. I pulled her over to a dark corner, “Mom, I don’t think I can do the next race. I’m really scared.”

This is where I wanted to just pack her up and tell her she can quit.

Instead, I held onto her and I gave her the best pep talk of my life. And I prayed for her right there under the bleachers and I left the decision up to her.

Because now it was more than an event at a junior high track meet. It was real life and real choices and real pain and a real mom who couldn’t fix the broken place.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t wait around to see what she decided. My mom had just gotten out of surgery and I had an hour drive to the hospital. I hugged her tight and left.

I can’t describe how hard it was to walk away. It’s hard seeing your children hurt, but it’s not the first time on this parenting road or the last. I’m not sure it gets easier.

I pulled the car over halfway to the hospital so I could text my daughter and tell her I loved her and no matter what, she’d already won.

But she knew that:

The next morning, while we bandaged her banged up leg, I told her how proud I was.

“Mom, wouldn’t you be more proud if I’d won?” she asked.

It’s a good question. But winning isn’t always winning. “And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” Heb. 12:2

“You did win, honey. You finished.”

Life is full of obstacles at every turn. There are financial stresses, family issues, hard parenting days, lonely moves, just real life hurdles that trip us up and leave us a bloody mess.

In those moments we don’t learn the lesson on the ground, we discover it when we get back up.

Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I hope you finish strong today.

Because that’s what winning is really about.

And it’s the lesson that keeps on giving. An update-She finished 5th overall at her second track meet in the 300m Hurdle race:

Filed UnderMy Life, Parenting 24 Comments

When You Need to Be Carried

9:45 pm Bykristen

I fumbled my way through making dinner and pushed down the emotion I had felt rising to the surface all day long. It had been a normal Tuesday like most others–filled with car line drop offs and conference calls, writing, a load of laundry, organizing Mercy House volunteers. I squeezed in a quick visit to my mom who was recovering from knee replacement surgery and hurried home to get an update from Maureen on Skype about her recent trip to visit each of our girl’s families before I started car line pick ups.

Deep breath.

She told me of one our girl’s family who was being severely abused when she arrived for the home visit last week. The situation was so violent and potentially life-threatening, she put herself in harm’s way to offer immediate assistance to this family.

Deep breath.

And there were another half dozen equally disturbing and overwhelming updates like the first two. Hungry siblings, broken parents, and heartache. We ended our time talking about the real estate situation in Kenya and the big miracle we needed.

I didn’t have time to process it all before I changed hats and sat with my family around the table. Suddenly, the weight of the day and really, the heaviness that has become my normal felt like a stone in the pit of my stomach. I asked my kids to clean up the table and dishes and I told my husband I needed a minute.

Deep breaths weren’t working. I couldn’t breathe.

I stumbled to the bathroom and closed the door. I turned on the bathtub so the roar of the water would block out my sobs. I fell down on my knees and I cried like a baby.

“I can’t do this, God, I don’t know how to do this. The burden is too heavy. The more we help, the more help is needed. You’ve provided so much, but we need more. I’ve run out of faith,” Sobs racked my body as the hot water washed away my tears.

I told God I didn’t know it would be this hard.

I told God I couldn’t take another breath or one more step.

I closed my eyes and I waited and in the depths of my inadequacy and feeling overwhelmed, I experienced this:

“Your most profound and intimate experiences of worship will likely be in your darkest days-when your heart is broken, when you feel abandoned, when you’re out of options, when the pain is great – and you turn to God alone.” Rick Warren

I didn’t see writing on the wall. I saw footprints, like the ones in the sand from the infamous poem seen on countless plaques.

I will carry you.

I still don’t have the answers. I’m still waiting for direction and seeking wisdom. But I can breath again: I’m inhaling grace and breathing out praise.

When I handed that heavy burden over to God, He reminded me this battlefield isn’t just filled with struggles and scars, it’s filled with victories only He could win.

I am not alone, I’m being carried.

You are, too.