12/30/2014 0 Comments Surviving the DrivingThere aren't enough bags in the world to pack all the things we would've needed on this trip to Dallas. We've experienced both super high highs and the extreme lowest of lows. I thought I would write about it to remind myself to pack a little extra next time, and also look back and laugh- hopefully- one day on the torture that ensued our little "vacation". We began the 22 hour drive Saturday morning, around 7:30am. Th drive started seamlessly. The kids had movies, activities, snacks, and empty bladders. We set out heading up 75, into the eternal abyss that is the state of Florida. Teaghan must've asked if we were "there yet" about 462 times before we even got to the highway. The kids needed to stop to pee an hour before lunch. The subway didn't have a changing table. Neither did the Starbucks. Booth it is! I ignored the elderly couple next to us with peering eyes. Adalynn had pooped. And also very skillfully managed to get it out of her diaper and into her pants. This is just the beginning. Lunch came and went, and we stopped at a Chick-fil-a - naturally. The kids got out and played for a bit on the playroom slides. We stretched our legs and used the toilets. Again. This time I had to lecture the girls on why it is inappropriate to look under the stall door to the person in the stall next to you. Just 2 minutes after re-buckling all four car seats, and securing all the things needed for the next leg of the drive, Wesley started to puke. Paco pulled the car over quickly. And we both scurried to assess, address, and avoid a repeat of the situation. One change of clothes down. (I only brought everyone three changes. They were mix-n-match-able to create additional outfits, but only when clean. And we were about to be at Litas for Christmas. Which meant everyone would come home with additional outfits.) never the less, in a car for 22 hours, the clothing was beginning to look sparce. We passed Wesley's vomiting off as a fluke and made sure he had plenty of water. It was nap time and hopefully he could sleep off whatever it was that made him sick to begin with. An hour later, another set of clothes bit the dust as Wesley puked again. This time on the highway. We flashed our hazard lights and hoped the 18 wheelers would pay attention. The back of our car was beginning to look like a landfill with all the plastic bags filled with vomit covered clothes, and Wes was now in his last clean outfit. He had no fever, no nothing to signal concern. What is the deal?? Maybe he's car sick. Quickly I googled like a boss the remedies for car sickness. We stopped at the next exit, to a not so glamorous wal-mart, for a back-up change of clothes, fresh air, and some lighter snacks for Wes. Paco adjusted the car seats so he could see out of the front of the car, and if it was motion sickness, we would know shortly because his blowing chunks should stop. We finally managed to stop in Baton Rouge around midnight for a hotel. The kids had all fallen asleep around 8, but we were nearly there ourselves. Sleep never looked so good. The best western was a breath of fresh air. It was clean, and stationary, and had lots of beds. The girls shared a pull out couch and Wesley had a queen bed all to himself. At 7 we all woke up for the hot continental breakfast buffet, with bacon, waffles, eggs, hashbrowns. The kids ate their fill, and so did we. We filled their juice cups with juice and started out on day two of the road trip. We managed to get all of twenty minutes outside of Dallas when everyone needed the potty again. This time, the nastiest of places in the middle of no where, smelled of ash trays, and germs crawling. I closed my eyes pretending not to notice. Our destination was 20 minutes away- and we could all shower if necessary. We finally made it! To Lita and Pancho's house. Greeted by relatives we didn't even know in the kitchen. The kids were overjoyed at being out of the car. Heck- so was i. I was all excited thinking that Wes could now get back to being Wes and we could venture out and do all the fun things we had planned for the trip. Except that didn't happen. Because it never happens the way you plan it. Wes came down with a fever. Then Adalynn. And then McKenna and Teaghan. Followed closely by Paco. While I may be fever free, I've had a few of their symptoms manifest in my body. Like a scratchy cough that acts up when you're trying to sleep. And a runny nose that drips only while eating. If I had to summarize the trip into an example familiar to others, I would say that for me, visiting family in Texas is a lot like going on a mission trip to another country. See, not only did I have to work hard when getting involved in a marriage, at blending two lives into one, but two cultures into one. I don't speak a lick of Spanish. I lied. I know about 30 words. But it's not nearly enough to understand the whirlwind of conversations happening around me here. It's an unfamiliar place (yes I attended a Dallas Texas college, but it was in a completely different part of town, nearly 6 years ago, PRE- children. Which means I've lost any recollection of directional wisdom once stored.) unfamiliar foods, unfamiliar smells, sounds, language. I don't even have the same grocery stores or eateries. Because past the Mississippi, territory is considered the north west. And my friends, I am an east coast girl. This doesn't mean all the unfamiliars are terrible. It just means I have to live outside of my normal, organized, routine, box. And for me- that's a big deal. Aside from all of the kids eventually getting the same virus as Wesley (we like to share in our family- toys, love, hugs, an germs alike) with fevers, coughs and enough mucus to fill an Olympic sized swimming pool. And Paco and I also catching said bug- and being pregnant I can't take anything other than Tylenol (which is half of my struggle!) things have been relatively smooth. I think this trip I've opened up the most I have ever, when visiting this side of the family. Rather than being reserved, I've spoken up and either made friends or enemies. I've told Paco my opinions on situations, and he has chivalrously taken on the responsibility of being the bearer of the news to his family- without exposing my vulnerability. He's taken the battles on as his own, and defended me without even knowing it. (Which if you're a dude reading this: take note. It's a big deal to your wife to defend her amidst your own family and prefer her over everyone else.) We've visited the aquarium, food establishments, and locations not found in our home state of Florida. And we've become familiar with both the pharmacy and pediatric emergency room of the area. (Which I can highly recommend. Children's medical center of Plano is a fabulous place to take your sick kids- if you live here or visit, in the event of an emergency room.) and that's saying a lot- because typically in medical environments- especially a hospital fully equipped with needles and lab supplies- I panic. With the exception of a few unexpected set backs, the trip was good. The kids were better. And the car ride wasn't nearly as terrifying as I expected. Here's a few tips for those of you driving with small kids ( aka- 4 under 5 y/o) anytime in the near future. For car sickness: Put the car sick kid in the middle seat. So they can see out of the front windshield. It helps align their brain and motion sense into logical. Feed them light snacks- even if it means ruining their lunch. Better than puking up their lunch later. (Graham crackers, goldfish, ritz, you get the idea). Keep them hydrated. Water is best cause if it comes back up- it's not a terrible smell or color. We mixed one part coconut water with three parts water for flavor and to help balance Wesley's electrolytes. At every stop, load up on napkins, and plastic grocery bags. That way you can properly store the vomit covered clothing until you're able to wash it. Also at every stop- let the car sick kid out of the car. Play ring around the Rosie while pumping gas, do jumping jacks together, race to the gas station door, balance along the curb edge, whatever. The kids will love it- everyone stretches their legs, and it gets the car sick kid a breath of fresh air and allows them to "re calibrate" their motion sensors. (Ps. I found all of this crap on google. But thought I would post what really worked for us here in one space.) Please note: I am not suggesting you drug your children for said results. But Wesley was already grouchy, whining, coughing, sneezing, and barfing with a mild fever. So we gave him some Motrin and Benadryl. A half dose of each. This gave him an extra dose of sleepy, and allowed him to sleep. And when a kid is sleeping. They aren't feeling sick and aren't barfing. What we did for 26 hours in the car, and how to survive the drive: We took everyone a tv screen for the car. So they could watch DVDs. Since the little kids can't tell or understand time, I used movies to explain timing. For example: we will stop for lunch after two movies. Or you can finish Brave, and then it's time for a nap. We took one iPod touch- the kids took turns passing it around, which gave them a break from movies, and a chance to stimulate their brain with other activities. Two kids would share the DVD choice and the other had the freedom to use the iPod. Then we would switch. My mom purchased all the kids a pair of ihome headphones. This was a great little bonus because if Paco and I needed a break from all the noise of disney, we just hooked up all the headphones for some quiet. If we stopped for anyone- for anything- everyone got out to pee. Little kids got diaper changes, mom and dad- everyone went to the bathroom. That way- we knew we were good for about three more hours regardless of who needed the toilet. We stopped for lunches/dinner at sit down eateries. Places like CFA with a play place, or chilis with lots of room. So that everyone could get a break from the drive. We stopped at night. All the kids fell asleep around 8:30. (Thank you routine schedules from home) which meant we could drive from 8:30-12:30 with music, laughs, a movie, whatever- without the kids. But when we got tired. We slept. We checked into a nice hotel- a best western- with a beautiful hot breakfast in the morning. It charged all of our batteries and let us set out fresh for the next day of driving. All this along with the typical snacks, juice boxes, coloring books, small toys, and car games. Were there melt downs? Heck yes. About three times, Wesley lost his mind. But honestly- a two year old can only cry so long. He was tired and frustrated- and didn't understand what was happening. Ps: You'd be amazed at what worship music can do. I have a playlist called "rest" on spotify, with lots of peaceful worship songs. When the car was crazy and stressful or everyone was going stir crazy, I would start to play the soft worship music and turn it up loud. This drowns out the sounds of everything else. Everyone would get their blankies and just take a rest for a minute. We've practiced getting "self control" when we aren't in the car. So it wasn't a new thing for the kids. Normally- we say "can you please fold your hands and take a minute to get some self control." And they do. The folding of their hands gives them something to focus on and they can get their attitude in check. In the car, we did the same thing except no one could do anything because they were buckled up- so laying their heads on their seats, with their blanket is the equivalent. It gives them something to focus on besides their attitude. And it also teaches them the virtue and spiritual fruit of self control. Which will absolutely be necessary later in life. In fact, I have had the girls tell me to get some self control before. It's a moment where I know I need to check my attitude- and also correct them for correcting me! Lol. All in all the trip was decent and a well deserved break for Paco. The kids enjoyed the sites and cool air, and it has made me all the more grateful for where I live and the things I have and do. Happiest holiday to you and yours!!! Merry Merry happy new year!!!!!
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12/17/2014 0 Comments Where parenting beginsI tend to rant. And today isn't much different. I'm pregnant again (surprise!) with baby number five, and I'm furious. Trust me, as a mom of four and a half, there are plenty of things to be frustrated with: Wes spilled a full bottle of water on the carpet- again. Or the girls decided to color " off of the paper" because it makes the table look "pretty". Or everyone is rioting nap time an I have a pounding headache type frustrated. But as a mother of daughters who will one day have babies of their own, and as a mother myself who is of child-bearing age and season, and currently as a pregnant person on this world we live in, I am begin frustrated and just flat out pissed off. Having a baby shouldn't be so hard. There are things that go along with being pregnant that are inevitably difficult: finding pants that are flattering for example. But finding medical care that suits both your needs and desires shouldn't be one of them. I can say anything on the topic of birth choice because I've gotten to choose just about everything with all of my kids' deliveries. But prenatal care is another beast entirely. I've had kids in a hospital and a home birth, and this time around I'm limited not because of my own ignorance like so many mothers out there- but because of the lack of options available. Paco is an aspiring CFA owner and operator. But until that day comes, he's working for a measly $11 an hour (and that's rounding up). He has zero benefits for himself or us. (Unless of course you count the free fries at the end of his shifts or whatever). The point is, we are under the medicaid bracket of health insurance this time around. In fact- his whopping paycheck for six an a half people isn't even low enough of a value to get us insurance regularly- only because I am pregnant. I know beggars can't be choosers- but as a women I want to make known the exponentially ridiculous flaws to this system. I won't even get onto the rant about how it would be more "economical" for me to "divorce" my husband- and just "share the house" with him (on paper of course) and take in the extra benefits both medically and monetarily that the government would dish out freely. But here I write- someone who isn't trying to abuse the system, and I'm left up a creek without a paddle and my boat has a hole in the bottom. Medicaid will pay for me to go to a typical doctors office. A typical hospital birth. With all the drugs, screenings, pictures, tests, scans, and bells and whistles I want. Roughly - $17k - and I'm being generous. But I don't want that. I want minimal interventions, with lots of options, and my own say about what happens to me and this baby- and the state won't even look my direction. Call it liability if you will- but honestly it's a poor management of funds. A home birth would cost a fraction of a hospital birth- under 5k to be exact. And I don't have to dope my baby or myself silly to get through it either. (Which is also healthier and more safe for someone in my condition by the way) I have called countless offices and countless birth centers in the area (and out of the area) to find other "options". And I'm left with voicemails and unreturned calls. The offices where someone did answer, cut off my sentences and interrupted me before finishing my opening sentence. The appointments I did finally prevail to schedule, couldn't be confirmed because the number given to me in the text or voicemail auto-confirm service was either non-existent or not being manned on the other end. The receptionists I've spoken with have been rude and quite frankly, impolite when answering questions- simply because "no one else has ever asked" them that before. They laughed at my cander and boasted in their "knowledge" that was superior to my own. (Mind you I've done the same things 5 times now) The staff who I've asked politely about " options" to care have either blank stared at me in disbelief or smirked at my boldness to dare want a choice in my care. Doctors who think it's my priveledge to be poked and prodded like cattle- when really it's their priveledge to help being my baby into this world. It's a medical atrocity that pregnant moms all over the US shouldn't be dealing with. As a pregnant mom, my biggest concerns should be my diet and monitoring my babies movements in utero. Not fighting off unnecessary exams, scans, and rubber gloves. It's my wish that both the insured and government cases in health care- that my generation and those to come- every race, ethnicity, age, and type of woman - be given a say in her health care when pregnant. We want mothers to assume responsibility for these tiny lives the moment their born. But we strip them of those responsibilities Long before the baby ever arrives. Maybe have the teen moms do some research and educate themselves instead of sticking a camera in their living rooms and calling it "reality tv" would help with the lack-of- responsibility pandemic sweeping the country. Maybe giving moms a say so in all that happens long before delivery- would help bond a mom and her baby and help decrease the number of post-partum depression cases - simply because new moms have been given the responsibilities sooner that when their emotions and hormones and bodies must adjust so quickly after birth. I'm not suggesting that we give up on necessary screenings and lab work (even though I hate it!) that has given the medical field such leaps and bounds of information, beneficial to the well being of both a child and mother. I'm saying routine shouldn't be so, and rather individualized care the norm. If you're in a marriage, with one partner, and aren't at risk for an STD, why do you need a routine papsmear? To make you more uncomfortable? If you're not showing signs of preterm labor, why do you need a vaginal exam? To introduce harmful bacteria into your cervix and jeopardize the safety of your baby? If your labor hasn't progressed as quickly as the MD wants it to, why rupture your membranes? Because it will speed things up in time for Dr so and so to be home for dinner? I'm not saying to throw the necessary away. I'm saying why aren't the unnecessary things treated as such. It's a shame that we can send people to live on other planets. That we can clone living things. We can predict accurately the weather for nearly 14 days. We can use math to solve equations involving light. And yet we cannot make the leap into individualized care for pregnant moms. And maybe that transcends the baby-making stage. I'm not there yet to know. But I do know this: I will be doing everything in my power to pave the way for those who come behind me. Be it my daughters. Or yours. Being a parent begins with pregnancy. And that includes pregnancy medical care. 12/8/2014 0 Comments Mum-daneI've been surrounded by the phrase "ordinary to extraordinary" the last few days. It's the title of the current series at church, the title of my devotional this morning, and ironically it's flashed a few times in adds and commercials this season. Seems as though people may be searching for the extra in the ordinary everyday, in every season, location, and moment. It's funny because as a mom, the ordinary surrounds- actually bombards life. There's nothing more mundane than preschoolers and toddlers who need routine naps, feedings, social stimulation- to make every day seem extra ordinary. (Two separate words here). If you're a working mom, I'm sure (as I was once in those shoes) there's routine and mundane in your moments. But as a stay at home mom, there's a magnifying glass on the remedial of everyday. Nowhere to be found is purpose, instruction, and tasks delegated or assigned. The only "job" SAHM have is to keep the kids alive. And somewhere in there, feed and change them. If you're an exceptional mom, you're the one that teaches your kids lessons through sensory activities, and plans play dates to encourage proper social interaction. You feed organic foods to your kids and monitor the intake levels of sugar and gluten. Your house is immaculate and you manage to shower, and dress yourself in time for your morning coffee- which is superstar status. (I say all of that as I type this, at 11:41am, still in pajamas, makeup from last night, across from the mountain of laundry needing folded on my couch, and while the kids feast on cocoa puffs. You can see I haven't reached "stardom" quite yet amongst other moms.{ps- I don't plan on or desire to achieve super stardom in that sense ever. Just FYI.}). If you've read any of my posts for any given time you certainly know my take and perspective on parenting. How I value the role of "disciple-er" as a parent, and place importance on that, more so than on the cleanliness of my kitchen. But I wanted to just remind us - mostly myself- and maybe you in the process as you read this post- that our job as moms is a startling call to extraordinary living. Listening to my pastor talk about Mary the mother of Jesus yesterday, made me laugh. I've never viewed her life before as one like mine. More so as someone to "aspire to be like". This spotless and innocent lady, who probably never stained her clothes, or had dirt between her toes. But the reality is, she walked dirt roads like everyone else. So her feet were probably like mine, and less than perfect pedicured. She wasn't this perfect and innocent being. Yeah- she was a virgin- so that no one could get the glory or credit or kudos for "knocking her up", but other than that we don't read about her perfection or screw ups. Who knows. Mary could've been a habitual liar, or a jealous girlfriend. She could've been the town gossiper or the divisive family member. We don't know. We know she wasn't perfect. Because she was human. (Phew.) But more so, she was given a task that required her to give up some luxuries. Our pastor embarked on the sacrifices of "not decorating a nursery" and the image of "whore" she probably wore once the town found out. This made my mind whirl with the other "sacrifices" she made. But honestly there were so many more things she gave up for the cause of Christ. Literally and figuratively. And as moms- we can find a startling similarity with this mother of Jesus if only we would look. The bible kind of skips over the whole pregnancy of Mary. And the delivery. It wraps it neatly in a few verses saying she "carried the child" and "gave birth to the child." But as moms- we all know any one of our pregnancies or deliveries could be described that way. But then the stories aren't exactly "accurate". I'm not saying the bible isn't accurate. I'm saying for the sake of time, space, and maybe graphic details some people would rather not read- the details are omitted from the story. As moms- let's just bring the realities of every pregnancy and delivery into play here. Because whether the four gospels describe them or not- Mary lived with them. All of the glorious realities of being a mom. The angel appears to her to tell her the name of her baby, and how she will end up pregnant. But that's all the detail she gets. Which is pretty much terrifying- because we can all comfortably grapple those two things when pregnancy is upon us. Certainly "making the baby" isn't such a big deal. It's kind of fun- ok a lot of fun usually- and it feels good, and for the majority of us, we consent and probably begged for the process. There's also the idea of naming the baby- which is one of the easier feats of bringing a child into the world. Sure there's the surface complaints of "what name should we pick" and "he and I just can't agree on one" or something. But especially your first kid, compared to say- the fourth- picking a name is relatively fun and easy. Those two things were taken from Mary's hands and done for her. Strike one. (Or sacrifice one I guess). We don't read about Mary having morning sickness. Maybe she didn't. As a mom who has it severely, I hope God would find it in His abundant mercy to grace Mary with an easy pregnancy. But let's just be real. The girl was at the very least exhausted. The first trimester brings upon us all a spirit of sleepiness. Tired is an understatement and there's no amount of napping or caffeine to bring you out of it. I'm not even getting into the nitty gritty of if she was hyper-sensitive to smells- like those of livestock which were probably near her home given the time period. They didn't exactly have indoor plumbing- so using the toilet could've been torture for his nasal passages alone. Her boobs probably hurt. She may have gotten nose bleeds. Or pregnancy gingivitis. Headaches or cramping. Who knows. The first few months could've been terrible. Second trimester she's probably feeling better from whatever it is that ails her. But she's now showing. So now - everyone who didn't already hear of her "unusual" circumstances is finding out. Her clothes are starting to not fit. I guess her "cloaks and robes" of the time could've been a bit more forgiving than our modern skinny jeans. But having worn a "robe" for a Christmas production while 20 weeks prego, I can attest to it not exactly being "flattering". The robe turns into more of a "house". Her poor feet- probably swollen- and she has to walk everywhere since they don't have cars yet. She also, can't exactly send Joseph to the local 24-hour market for cravings- since there probably wasn't one. She's also feeling a bit better so the reality of what's happening is starting to set in. The girl is young. Like- some scholars say a young as 13. I was 21 having my first baby-And I was terrified of how this baby was going to exit me and come into the world. This poor girl is still figuring out who the heck she is and how her body functions- I can't imagine the thoughts and fears she had to wrestle to the ground about delivering. She couldn't exactly google the averages an standard procedures for birth. She's relying on family history and probably a few close friends and their experiences for information. And we all know the people who've had a baby before us are so stuffed with advice and horror stories about delivery. Poor Mary is left without other options or defense in the form of research or science. Third trimester rolls around and she's probably aching. Her back, feet, hips- the works. The bible doesn't exactly describe Jesus as a "featherweight" so she's holding nearly 6-8 pounds of baby, a few kinds of fluid and blood, and all the extras inside of her. She's packed on a few pounds of baby weight on the outside- which means she's got stretch marks all over her newly-pubescent body. Joseph hasn't even seen her naked yet and the poor girl is loosing her girlish figure. (At least my hubs got to see me in my "glory days" before the person that is post-baby arrived and marred me.) She's not exactly looking into her birth options. Hospital, birth center, home....doesn't really matter at this point. Because there's probably Not at a choice at this juncture. And little does she know- she won't be giving birth in her house or anywhere remotely "sanitary" when the time comes. She's probably feeling some Braxton hicks, or wondering what real labor feels like. She can't sleep well since she has to pee every few minutes, and her mattress isn't exactly a "sleep number" or "memory foam" make. Then she gets the news from her "Prince Charming" that they'll be traveling- by donkey back- to a po-dunk town about 20 minutes prior to her due date, for some census survey. I'm sorry- but I'm pretty sure I would've gotten a doctors note and skipped that little venture. Donkey or not the ride was much less than glamorous. The car ride with AC and padded seats that recline is terrible when labor begins- I can't imagine being atop a donkey and looking for a "room" to bear down in. Poor Joseph is facing some pressure too. Because all of us turn into crazies when amidst contractions. All these movies show Mary keeping her cool while fully clothed in layers of cloth and sitting peacefully on a sweet donkey as they look for a motel 8. But really- we all know Mary was ripping her clothes off because she was crazy hot, and telling Joseph to get his crap together before she murders him in the street. She doesn't have an epidural or even some Tylenol to take the edge off, so you know she's not sitting on that Donkey in any shape or form. She's probably using the donkey to hang off of or kick at while she moans and screams in the starlight. (Maybe the heavenly hosts that sing to the nearby shepherds are really covering the blood curdling cries of a 15 year old in labor). Joseph finally hulls her into a stable because she probably told him the baby was crowning - and that he better get this thing out of her NOW or she's going to kill him for the second time. Maybe she lays back- maybe she's on all fours- but she certainly isn't in a water birthing tub or a birthing suite. She's on some hay and dirt, while cows and sheep stare at her and crap in the same location. The hospital staff at any hospital would loose their minds if someone brought cow "pies" to my next delivery. Mary probably laid on it. Group B strep had nothing on this stable. The baby finally is out- don't ask how they cut the cord- those details aren't provided. Maybe Joseph had a Sterile pair of hospital grade scissors. Though I doubt it. She can't exactly "shower" after giving birth- she's just left to lay in whatever mess was made. Blood, possibly a BM, and the cow pies which now are probably not so bad. Maybe she moves to the other pile of hay- to be a little more "clean". This baby- who is supposedly the miraculous savior their people have been waiting for to rescue them and redeem them from all history is here- but he's wrinkled and frail. Naked and probably crying for Mary to do something like nurse him. He's fully dependent on these two young people to help him survive in order to "redeem" mankind. I wonder if Mary doubted His ability and promise at that point. Because I know I probably would've. They need to wrap the baby in something. After all they are outside. It is the evening. And babies don't exactly stay warm themselves at first. The bible does give us the description of Jesus' first swaddling blanket. A cute, fluffy, clean and never used - monogrammed keep sake blanket. Ha. No. It's actually "swaddling clothes". Not the kind for swaddling babies either. Wrong swaddle. It's the pieces of fabric used to wrap dead people. Burial clothes. Mummy strips if you will. To wrap up the "Lion of Judah and King of Kings". Mary at this point is lovably thinking "we WILL call him Emmanuel, because he's here WITH us." Not in a eternal promise sense. But probably in a "he's here and won't let us sleep now" sense. How on earth could they forget. A brand new baby cries and doesnt exactly sleep great to begin with. She left with postpartum delights: 4-5 weeks of bleeding, uterine cramping, sore and leaky boobs, flabby skin, and a new baby to answer at every beck and call. I think about those kinda of details and think "Mary. Poor Mary." If that girl knew all that was coming when the angel delivered her news, would she have said "be it to me as you said in your word"? I think I would've asked for that word to not be fulfilled. And yet she said yes. Every time my kids spill chocolate milk on the carpet. Every time I have to wipe a poopy butt during dinner. Every time I'm fighting a 2-y/o to get buckled in a car seat- I am choosing to say " yes" just like Mary. Every time your kid talks back to you. Every time they melt down in the target aisle. Every time they refuse to nap. You are saying "yes" just like Mary too. Because amidst the struggles and the chaos and the ordinary of parenting every day, is the call to train our kids up- to one day be the light in a dark world. We trade sleep and sanity for the glorious reward of raising disciples who will make disciples. Don't grow weary in doing well momma. There's a reward coming even though we can't see it yet. It looks like your son telling kids in Uganda about Jesus, and the stories you shared with him when he was young, and leading 100's of kids to Jesus. It looks like your daughter being a school teacher who gets to pray for the kids in her class off the clock, and show the love of Jesus that you showed to her when she was little. It looks like your kids being Jesus in line at the very same target aisle where they "lost it", to the elderly couple now there. It looks like legacy in the lives your kids will touch later-because of the Truth you've taught them today. The mundane tasks Mary faced, are much like those you and I face everyday. She had to potty train Jesus. She had to keep him from having temper tantrums at the market. She had to teach him what words were polite and not. (I wish she had also written a parenting manual.) Mary had the daunting task of raising the Savior of the world among her everyday life. But amidst the everyday of our mom-lives, is the task of raising kids who will carry the light of the savior to those around them. Don't be fooled by the ordinary. It's the way the enemy distracts and defeats us as moms- making us think "are you really doing something valuable here?" It's the same trick he used on Eve way back when, when he said "did God really say.." You are valuable. And your kids are being raised to know Him. This Christmas, as your family sits around the table, or the tree, and someone spills red juice on the white rug- or opens the wrong present during gifts- or knocks over your mother in laws tree- know that you're above the mundane. You're just here on assignment - to train world changers. And those are all just part of the obstacle course called life. Keep up the good work. Don't get burn out. And let the promise of the things God has said, be fulfilled to the fullest in you!!! Happy Christmas from all of the Curzio's, and a splendidly delightful new year!! |
AuthorBri is the mom to four little people, the wife to a gentle giant, and a lover of Jesus. She's figuring out the best ways to parent by trial and error, and sharing her struggles, successes, and stories with you! Archives
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