Sunday, April 13, 2014

Springing In To Me

I was invited to be a part of Glennon Melton's Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project.  This essay written last year at this time is my truth.  My messy beautiful truth.

Every Spring I spend the last few weeks of March climbing out of a hole.  Call it seasonal affective disorder, depression, the blues, a funk, whatever it is when Fall turns into winter I seem to literally fall into another me.  A me that I don't really like honestly.  A me that is less patient and kind, less fun and friendly, less than who I know myself to be.  Nothing too dark, not crying in the corner by myself me but just not me.  Every March I climb back out of it.  I can feel it happening.  I can feel the irritability start to fade away with every ounce of sunshine that soaks into my skin.  I can feel my laugh come easier.  I can feel it happening.  Usually by May I'm back.  Found myself again.




This year I was going to stave off the hole.  I was prepared.  I was ready and waiting like a lion for the pounce and it came anyway.  It hit me again.  I felt shame in it.  I felt loss in it.  And that just makes the hole bigger.   I felt the irritability rise as the temperature outside decreased.   Energy for five kids seemed harder.  Typically outgoing me, turns inward.  The mundane everyday occurrences of life were enough to freeze me in an overwhelmed state some days.  Subtle things mostly.

This year I learned from it all.  I learned we all need grace.  Sometimes, big huge double portions of grace.  We usually need the grace when people feel least like giving it to us.

I learned that people get nervous when you just say you're blah, maybe even depressed, fighting the blues.  I realized how heavy the stigma of mental health feels.  I think it's because people don't know what to do.  I can hear about your influenza because I understand how that is transmitted.  I know you need rest and fluids to help you feel better and I know that in about a week you'll be back to normal.  Mental health isn't quite as neatly packaged.  There isn't any of that in-a-week-to-10-days you'll be all better proclamation.

I learned that partly that stigma comes from others questioning your faith.  There are people out there that don't get it.  They do not understand the whole hormone, chemical imbalance, psychological aspect that comes into play.  So they think you can pray it away or if you were in the word more or had a better relationship with Christ, then the darkness wouldn't come.  I want to smack those people.  In the less of me times and the happy Spring/Summer/Fall me times, I want to smack them.  They make me feel less than and shame on me for giving them that power.   It is in those times I depend on Him even more.  You can long to feel close to Him and still feel far away.  Even when you seek His face.  Even when you sit at His feet.  That is where the faith comes in.  You trust He is there.  You know that this is part of that less than you you and that your feelings are just feelings and the TRUTH is He is right there with you.  In the Fall and the Climb.  He is with you always and you read the truth and you rest in it and wait for your feelings to match up.  Those people that don't understand, that's their issue.  Not yours.  Let them carry that.

I learned that there are so many others out there like me that don't feel like they can tell anyone because of the judgements, the looks, the stigma.  One in five adults suffer from some form of mental health issues but no one ever talks about it.  (I could now go on a rant about the state of mental health in our country and the school shootings and the divorce rate, homelessness, etc but this is just to say, reach out.)  Be the kind of friend that someone can call and say I'm struggling lately.  And you don't judge.  You listen and you support and encourage.  Be the kind of friend that lets people in.  That lives authentically and shares your life with others, even the not so you you.  Be the friend that steps out in trust and says, I'm hurting and could use your prayers.  I'm in a hole.  My marriage is in a hole.  I feel like a loser mom lately.   Be the friend that can say that and the friend that can hear that without judgement.  Offer grace and prayer and maybe cook a meal or take them out for coffee or a nice long walk.



I know we like everything to be okay.  I know it is most comfortable for everyone to think that life is without struggle.  I know we want to believe that everything is as cheery as our instagram pictures make it look.  I know we want to read through Facebook posts like a copy of US weekly and see how great everyone is doing.  We want it to all be okay.  So does the person in the hole.  And sometimes there is no real reason that they feel that way other than they do.  And that is okay.  I know the hole is scary and you don't want to get too close but it is okay to hang over the hole and reach out a hand.  It is okay to just say I don't know how to help but I'm praying for you.  It is okay to just say the ridiculous to get a laugh or to drop off their favorite Starbucks just to say you aren't alone there in the hole,  I see you struggling and am here.

I learned that comparing ourselves to others is almost always a recipe for disaster.  Do not let your contentment in parenting, marriage, what you're wearing, your walk with Jesus,  how much you're making, your weight, any of that depend on how others are doing it.  You are fabulous even in the hole.  Usually you haven't really changed, just your circumstances have and your fabulousness is still there it's just harder for you to see at the moment.  But it is there.  And so is HE.

I learned almost all of us have been there.  Few choose to admit it.

I learned I feel like I have to explain this all away by saying it's not that bad and my family is still great and we are happy and I do count my blessings and I am appreciative of all I have.  I feel like I need to say most days are fine and it really is good.  That is the fear of the judgements I guess but then I'm back to the people that just don't get it and well, I didn't write this for them.  I wrote it for you, the one in the hole.  The one that has just climbed out and the one that is clinging to the ledge. I see you.   I know.  I don't know what got you in there.  It doesn't matter.  Maybe it's a seasonal thing, or a life's curve thrown at you.  Maybe it's from poor choices you've made or injustices done to you.  Maybe it's genetic, hormonal, chemical imbalance.  I don't know what got you in there and it doesn't matter.  What matters is you are not alone. I've been there.  I see you.

I learned that I put that shame of the stigma on myself and I won't do it anymore.  I learned that I am that kind of friend that can say it and hear it.  I learned that it is something I will most likely struggle with for the rest of my life and no matter how prepared I feel, it will come.  I learned to not let that make the hole wider and deeper.  I learned that I crave sunshine like my husband craves his momma's cooking.  I learned that my God is greater and that feelings are fleeting but Truth just is.  I learned that we do not extend grace ever enough and that there is nothing more lovely or humbling than receiving it.    I learned that for me,  I can not exercise it away or take enough supplements and herbal remedies or pray or study His word or cling to my faith enough to make this go away for me. I learned that it is okay to need help with it.  Whether that is medication or counseling or whatever that looks like for you.  I learned that I expect others to be okay with it but wasn't okay with it myself.  I'm over that.  Do I struggle sometimes?  Yes I do.  Is my life still beautiful?  Absolutely.  Is God ever present?  Indeed He is.  Always with me.   I have an enormous tapestry of blessings in my life to be thankful for.  I'm not about to let a little hole ruin that.   Somedays, when the sun is shining and the wind is gently blowing through my open windows, I can barely see it anyway.   And I have 3 seasons to prepare for the next round!
~My Messy Beautiful

Is 46:4 "I am He, who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you. I will sustain you and rescue you."

This essay and I are part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project .  It was originally published last year on this blog— To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE! And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback, CLICK HERE!

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Joseph and Mary's boy

This year will be our 3rd Christmas without my Papaw.  Boy I miss that man.



I come from farmers.  I grew up on a pig farm.  My aunts and uncles farm.  My papaw farmed.  Some of my favorite memories as a child were spent on his farm....learning to fish, feeding hogs, riding the 4 wheeler, hanging out with cousins and aunts and uncles and he and my mamaw.  After a particularly hard year for farmers in 1985, before our Christmas meal, my aunt said she had a song she'd like to share with all of us. And by all of us, I mean close to 40 of us then....which now looks more like 90 of us.  No exaggeration. A large, loud, loving, German, Catholic, farming family.  We were all quiet and she pressed the button on her tape deck.  This is what we heard.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bTWMbevPek0

And in a room full of strong farming men and even stronger women, tears fell.  When it ended, my Papaw with tears in his eyes simply said Amen and laughed his deep chuckle that only he can do and our family all filed in to share our meal together.  The next year we all sang along with it and every year after that. It is one of my greatest childhood memories.

There is no other song that makes me feel Christmas quite like this one.  There is no other song that so fully fills my heart with the love of family as this one.  There is no other song that still makes me cry.  Every single time I hear it.  There are beautiful traditional Christmas songs that I love.  There are many contemoporary Christian Christmas songs that find me in a place of awe over the baby Jesus but this one....this is the spirit of Christmas all wrapped up in 4 minutes.  The appreciation, the celebration, the simplicity, the fact that in the midst of pain and struggle this day brings with it hope, a miraculous display of love. For us.  This song does all of that for me.  If you had been there, if you had known my Papaw, I think it would do the same for you.

May this Christmas be filled with wonderful memories with your family and a true appreciation for the miracle the Christ child is.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Our family's experience with child sponsorship.



In the fall of 2009, I went with WRCC to Nairobi, Kenya and served in the Mathare slums.  We spent several days running a vacation bible school in what we’ve now come to know as Area 2,  where our church has gone on to build a school.  It was less than an hour at the school when I noticed one set of eyes following me everywhere I went.  This little girl would look at me much like your own child does during a sporting event or performance to make sure you are watching them.  Her eyes were as big as her face and her smile even bigger.  One of our first projects was to make name tags and I then formally met Mercy.  She and I were fast friends and it was often I would look down and find her by my side or feel her little hand in mine.  This beautiful girl completely stole my heart.  One of the highlights of my trip was getting to wash her feet like Jesus did his disciples and place on her feet her first pair of new socks and shoes.  I will never forget the pride in her face. 

A few days later, the teachers and social workers were telling us about the new children at the school and how many still did not have sponsors but explained they could not turn them away.  Mercy was one of them.  I couldn’t sign my name fast enough to sponsor her through CMFi.  It is, admittedly, an easy choice when you can smell the raw sewage, see the dust covering her feet and hear the sounds of the slum she calls home.  Saying goodbye to her sweet face was so hard for me.  Through a translator I told her I would come back someday.  I wasn’t sure when but I promised that I would be back.  I told her how much Jesus loved her and how much I did and assured her that our family would be praying for her and her family daily.  I left her with a picture of all of us.

Over the next two years we sent letters and received them from her.  We sent care packages, pictures and Christmas presents.  She shared with us some of her fears and her prayer requests and her accomplishments and dreams.  Our entire family fell in love too.  We think of ourselves as a family of 8 with one us of living half a world away.  The kids were just sad she couldn’t come to live with us but I explained she has two living parents that love her very much but that where they live the unemployment rate is very high and there are simply no jobs.  I explained that some families will relinquish their child because they cannot afford to feed them or send them to school.  We are an adoptive family and the thought of parents having to place their child for adoption because of finances breaks my heart to it’s core.  It breaks God’s heart.  I explained this is something small we can do to make a very big difference for this family and for our Mercy. 

In 2011, I returned to Mathare.  As I came around the corner I saw her sitting and talking with friends and as her face met mine, I could tell she knew.  A smile spread across her face and I went up to her and asked if she knew who I was and she said quietly, “Yes, you are Jen.”  Tears welled up in my eyes and I hugged that little girl and told her I kept my promise to come back.  We spent time together and acted silly and sang songs and it is in those moments with Mercy that I know God uses us.  He used a broken vessel like me to bring hope to this child.  She asked about all of the kids and as I showed her pictures she commented that they looked like they had grown.  She was always fascinated with Grace much like a younger sister is with an older one.  She thought she was so pretty and asked what she was like.

On that trip I had a difficult time leaving Mathare each night to return to our hotel.  It hurt my heart that she stayed.  It hurt that I couldn’t do more.  Before we came I had asked if it would be possible to meet with Mercy’s family.  I was told their would not be enough time.  On the morning of our last day there, I was so heavy hearted to say good bye to this girl I love, to leave her behind…

And then, I walked in to the school and out of close to 800,000 residents in Mathare, God had brought Catherine, Mercy’s mother to me.  She sat there holding a baby on her lap and I knew right away it was her.  She looks just like Mercy.  I was able to speak with her through an interpreter and show her pictures of our family and tell her how much we pray for them.  She was warm and loving and slightly shy like Mercy.  She thanked me for what we are doing for Mercy.  It was incredibly humbling.  She had on the cross necklace I had given to Mercy just a few days before.  The cross now hung around her neck and it was such a God moment.  It felt in my spirit as if God were saying, Mercy is okay.  Her family is okay.  I am with them and I love you all so much.  I love you enough to give you the gift of this meeting and the peace I know it will bring to your heart.


Fast forward two years later and just this past October, my husband, Trevor, and our oldest, Grace,  went on the mission trip to Kenya and were able to meet Mercy.  Grace declares it the best part of the trip.  It was wonderful for Grace to walk in to her classroom and she could see the recognition Mercy had for her.  She looked at her just like she had looked at me.  She KNEW her.  She had that relationship established.  Trevor and Grace were able to meet with her and give her gifts we had handpicked just for her.  Yes, we've been able to, for five years now, provide schooling, food, medical access, school uniforms and immunizations to Mercy, but even more lasting, she has learned about the love of Jesus.  I can only imagine what this young girl from the slums of Nairobi thought when for the 3rd time our family came to visit her.  I can only imagine how much she felt loved, believed in, worthy…...
                                       

And Mercy has given to us, taught us.  She is our family.  She has taught me that our attitude isn’t in our circumstances but that our joy is in Jesus.  She has given as much love as she’s received.  Sponsoring her has taught our family about sacrificial giving and praying for other’s needs besides our own.  She has helped us focus on a global-God-view of the world instead of a closed focus of our own surroundings.  This sponsorship has helped us to be grateful for our blessings and to not take our privileges of a home, food, and access to healthcare for granted.  This beautiful child, our Mercy, has given us a relationship…a connection thousands of miles away and it feels amazing to know we are making a difference in her life.

Andy Stanley has a quote I love, “Do for ONE what you wish you could do for everyone.”  One sweet Mercy at a time.  To God be the Glory for the things He has done.  

Thursday, October 24, 2013

WAY harder to send



Two weeks ago was Missions weekend at our church.  Our speaker was Claude Hickman and he gave an impassioned talk about missions around the world.  The main point was that biblically speaking we either, GO, SEND or DISOBEY because Jesus commands all of us to go and make disciples.  I have gone.  I love going.  It is the heart of my heart.  Two weeks ago, I sent.  And it had me grasping for breath through tears all day.  In each moment, I was reminded of the sacrifice God must have felt when he fulfilled the ultimate mission in sending His son to die for us.  I sent my husband and our 13 year old daughter to Kenya.  I didn't feel fear.  I didn't feel jealousy.  I didn't feel concern.  I felt overwhelmingly proud of their Yes to God.  I felt an overwhelming sense of peace that my teenage daughter would choose to spend her break this way.  I felt a deep sense of love for the man that is my husband and the values he upholds.  I felt a sense of knowingness of what they were about to see, feel, smell, experience.  I knew they would come back to me different.  I knew they would be forever changed.  My faith has been tested in the past few weeks in ways I wouldn't have imagined.  Turns out you God will change you in the staying if you let Him.


I have spoken with them a few times.  It has been an amazing time and they are beyond appreciative of the opportunity.  They come home to me tomorrow.  I simply cannot wait to touch their face, listen to their hearts and see the light of Jesus in their eyes.



Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Leaving on a jet plane....



In a few days, my 13 year old daughter and my husband travel on a mission trip to Kenya, the place my heart loves as if it were birthed from the soil there.  It is a place I have traveled twice before and will again next year.  I try to go every other year but something about this year told me to wait. I did.   And a prayer I'd been praying for years came through.  My husband wanted to go.  And he wanted to take our Grace. Now in my prayer, I was going with them but close enough.  In all honesty my initial reaction was totally flawed human jealousy.  I know. That's how ugly my heart can be.  It was my dream.   I wanted to be there to see them experience such an important and impactfull God sized journey.  You'll be glad to know, that reaction only lasted a few hours.  What?  Too long.  Hmpph.  I have absolutely been thrilled for them both ever since.  I immediately knew and was pained to admit why I had felt that nudge to wait.  Trevor and Grace are internal processors. They are quiet thinkers.  They need time.   I need to talk about it.  Now.  I spew my thoughts out as quick as they come racing at me and with my ADD in full effect few can keep up.  I realized it was best for me not to go.  Still stings a bit to say that, but I know myself enough to know that I would have driven them crazy with my questions and lurking behind every tree and hippo's rear end to see them experience this.  I would have taken certain expectations along I think.  I wouldn't have given them the space they needed.  It was best for me not to go. Really, God?  Yes, really.  This is truly best.  I have tried to keep my stories, impressions, even my advice to a minimum because I want this to be wholly theirs.  How many 13 year old girls get this experience with their daddy?  Man, I did good picking him out.


As we told others about this trip, and especially after what transpired in Kenya a few weeks ago, many, even some that surprised us, were a bit concerned about someone her age going.  What she would see, experience, her safety.  It wasn't something we considered lightly as seen in an open letter to my Grace.


My beautiful Grace,
I am beyond proud of you for wanting to take part in this mission trip.  I am so thankful for your heart for the people there but most importantly for Jesus.  I knew when you said you wanted to go that I had to let you. How can you tell a child their entire life that they should follow the promptings of God in their spirit and then when they ask you to go, say no.  I couldn't be the one holding you back from God's plan or calling on your life.  I couldn't be the reason you disobeyed.  

But as an earthly momma, I fought with a few things.  I want to protect your heart.  It will most certainly break there.  I remember how hard it was for me to see some of the suffering, the injustice, the intense effects of a poverty that had yet to be defined for me.  What would that do to my girl?  And you know what God whispered to me?  He whispered names.  He whispered Mercy....Terri....Mary....Anne....He whispered the names of the girls I love living there.  Gladys....Ava...Elizabeth...  Living it.  Daily.  And I knew you could do it.  And I knew you had to do it.  I knew that our home is different from many in the way we try to teach you and your siblings from a global Godly perspective.  I knew you have seen my pictures and heard me speak and although it is different close up in the flesh, it is clear that God's spent your lifetime preparing you for this.  

I wondered how you would do on the plane.  Your first time flying since you are old enough to remember and it's kind of a long flight:)  I wondered if you would be homesick.  I wondered if you might feel hungry and not like the food.  I went over every scenario in my mind and the same peace kept coming over me.  You might be uncomfortable at times.  That's okay.  You might not like the food.  That's okay too.  You come from a place where you can have your fill.  Life isn't about comfort and safe and easy.  

I worried about your health and your safety even though I have never worried about either of those things on a trip of my own.  But I worry about those things here too.  I think most people would say this momma duck likes her ducklings close by and they would be right.  It is a huge stretch for me for you just to be gone for 2 weeks, much less so far away and with little communication if any.  But you are HIS child.  I trust His protection over you and I put you in His hands.  I do that each day when you go off to school or stay at a friend's house overnight.  It's a broken world and anything can happen anywhere but we don't live in fear. We live free.  

I know full well this will change you.  I know it will leave a lasting impression on your life.  I pray exactly that. I will be praying for you and your team daily.  Please do not forget a single moment so you can share them all with me.  You know I'm serious.  And yes, I will say it again.  My one piece of advice.  Write everything down!  You think you will never be able to forget an experience like this and in your heart you won't but the details will fade when you're old like me and juggling children while balancing plates on broom handles. At least that's what it feels like.  You will thank me someday.

Now go love on the Kenyan people in the name of Jesus.  Shine your light, girl.  Live your dream. Your momma will be here thanking God for a Daddy like yours and the beautiful spirit of my first born.  I love you more than you can fathom.

Mom. 

Friday, September 6, 2013

working woman

Over 13 years ago, I made a choice; a choice to stay home with my baby.  And that choice continued after each baby.  5 babies later, I am eternally grateful for the wisdom in that choice and that God provided my husband a job that allowed me that decision.



Many times over the past 13 years I've questioned it.  I wanted vacations and nicer clothes.  I wanted a car that was reliable AND had air conditioning.  I wanted to go to the grocery and NOT have to calculate every thing I added to the cart to make sure I wasn't over budget.  I wanted to get my nails done and a pedicure.  I wanted our kids to be able to go to the best camps and extracurricular activities.  I wanted our family to eat out at a place where the kids meal didn't come with a toy.  I wanted to buy toys just because not just at Christmas.  I wanted to be recognized for the intelligent woman I am.  I wanted to be recognized period.  I wanted.  Somedays I wanted a lot.  BUT, for the most part I was content.  Because it was the choice that we made for our family.  It was the value we decided on.  I had every single second with my children.  I did not miss a single first.  I went to class parties.  I held and read and wiped and napped.  I dried tears and giggled and ran and played and I would not change an ounce of that time.  Ever.  I would choose to be broke all over again to have that experience with my children because that...that stuff lasts...pedicures fade, children that spend thousands on sports camps end up never playing the sport again at some point.  We lived life together.  I am so very grateful for that.

So as all five headed to school and the opportunity to work outside of the home presented itself, the idea was exciting.  I still had strict criteria though.  I had to be home when the kids were home.  I had to have the same breaks and days off as they had.  I needed to make X amount of dollars to help make ends meet.  Not too much to ask, right?! The job didn't come.  For over a year.  A few opportunities presented themselves and the temptation of taking a job even though I wouldn't have the same schedule as the kids presented itself. A few opportunities that would require evening time or weekend time came along.  Then this summer I interviewed for the perfect position for me and our family and I didn't get it.  School started again and I was jobless.  So I waited and prayed.  I prayed and waited.  I knew we'd make it whether the perfect job came along or not because countless times over the past 13 years I have watched our God provide for us.

Last week I got a call....about that perfect position I had wanted earlier in the summer.  It was at a different school closer to home.  So even better.  I tried not to get my hopes up.  I prayed and knew that if this was what God wanted for us, He would make it happen.   I was offered the job on the spot.  I cannot help but feel like God is honoring the many sacrifices we have made over the past 13 years being a family of 7 on one income.  It's not like all of the sudden it's pedicures for everyone, but I will be contributing and talking to adults and wearing grown up clothes.  It meets all the criteria that echo our values.  Same schedule as my children.  And you know what?   He is SOVEREIGN!!! I didn't get that job I wanted this summer because this one is even better for us.  His hand is all over it. Thank you, Lord!

So I joined the forces of working women this week and so far, I've survived.  I've become a commuter. 1 hour and 10 minutes.  A week.  Round trip.  7 minutes from my garage to the door of the school 5 days a week and home again.  The worst part are those few hours right after school that just stink. The ones where everyone needs help with homework and everyone wants a snack and one needs to find their jersey for practice and the other needs helping filling their water bottle and you need to stop all of that and load everyone up to pick up another from practice and then they all want dinner and you are still standing at the island in your work clothes having to pee since you walked in 2 hours ago.....yeh, that two hours....well I'm trying to remind myself that it stunk even when I wasn't working and that it just seems like more because you are exhausted from re-entering the workforce after almost a decade and a half of not being there.  I'm telling myself that the exhaustion will get better or I'll at least forget what it felt like to feel less exhausted.  And if that isn't the case, don't you even ruin that little pipe dream for me.  I know I'm all about being authentic but I want to live in denial if this isn't going to get easier because right now it's that hope that is keeping me going:)

The good news is I love my new job.  It is a perfect fit for me.  I can bust out the work and leave it there. The kids are doing great with the schedule and adjustments and the people I work with have been fabulous and welcoming.  I am beyond grateful for the opportunity.  I am blessed with a husband that throws in laundry and hasn't complained that the house looks less than stellar and he ate subway for dinner this week. I'm sure one of these days I will be able to stay awake long enough to actually have a conversation with him too.  Since yoga pants and flip flops have been my wardrobe of choice, I got some new clothes that no one has ever worn before and two pair of shoes this week.  That is more than I've gotten in the past two years combined and I can now look cute 4 days in a row.  So if you see me out and I look all crazy, it's the 5th day.  I cannot promise hip and fresh on the 5th day.

I'm sure there will be some bumps in the road and the transition may not always be pretty but for right now, at this time in our lives, this is what works for our family.  It's kind of nice to be known as me and not so and so's mom or Trevor's wife.  I am just thankful for a position that I can enjoy and allows me the privilege of keeping mom and wife as priority #1.

For you young momma's that are staying home, I encourage you to stay the course.  I know it is incredibly hard and there is no one around to give you a merit raise or a certificate for breaking the record of diapers changed in a single day.  I know you do not hear enough how appreciated the sacrifices you are making are. I know that somedays you feel completely invisible....but I see you.  I know you.  You are amazing.  What you do is profound and beautiful and so worth it.  I know you are wearing a top off the clearance rack at Target and a pair of shorts your rich sister passed on to you after she was done with them.  I know you used a box color on your hair and it is swept up in a ponytail with a little bit of baby's breakfast in it from that cute at first but quickly annoying phase when they learn to vibrate their little lips together.  Oh, I see you.  I know that you cannot possibly answer another question today because your toddler has asked you 70 and it's only lunchtime.  I know you feel responsible for the rest of these tiny people's life.  I know how heavy it feels.  I see you.  I recognize the hard and often thankless job you are doing and please know that God sees you. Please know that what you are doing is irreplaceable in the life of your child.  God will provide.  And someday if you ever choose to go back to work, something will be there.  All in His time.   And it just might be the position you have thought all along you would like and would work for your family.  We all have our seasons.  That first one lasted 13 1/2 years for me.

Praying for all you mommas out there.  Working outside of the home or in it.  It's hard stuff.


Monday, August 26, 2013

Vick's Vapo What?!?


Croup.  That seemingly evil thief in the night that steals the very breath from your child.  If you've heard it, you know.  The sound of that cough, the sound of their breath squeezing through the ever tightening space in their throat.  I have a child that is prone to it.  He is never sick except for that.  Gets it a few times a year. This weekend we ended up in the ER after trying the trusted tricks at home.  We sat in the bathroom while the shower steamed around us and steamed and steamed. I am a 40 year old overweight claustrophobic momma.  Sitting in that room holding a child is a lot like I imagine a person with a peanut allergy feels walking in to Logan's Roadhouse..GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!  Then we sat in the cool night air.  Some relief but still struggling for breath.  After an hour of trying to get it under control we end up at the ER and require a breathing treatment and steroids.  A few hours later we are home.  Just in time for everyone else to wake and the day to begin.

The week before was spent with another child and a mysterious all over body rash, high fever and bouts of intense itching throughout the night. Couple that with the first emergency room run of the week for breathing problems due to a reaction to a medication.   The prior month the same child spent fighting a weird skin infection and another allergic reaction to a medication.  Bizarro.   So when last night, my 13 year old woke gasping for air, you'll understand my reaction of "are you flipping kidding me?!"  Can a teenager get croup?  Google says they can.  So if you think holding a 7 year old in a steaming bathroom gave me a hot sweaty anxiety filled someone has a giant size fist around my neck type of feel, you can imagine what it was like holding my 5'9'' 13 year old.  Did I mention our bathroom is the size of a port a pot?

The course of action is hot steamy air followed by cool night air......only last night it felt a bit like a sauna outside so we did the most rational thing....stuck her head in the freezer.  If you've ever had a 13 year old you know how smart they think moms are anyway. The fear of dying helped my argument and shortened the need for an explanation.  No relief.   Hot steamy room again.  And let's be honest, this time mom sat outside the door and kept sticking my head in to check on her.  No relief.  Scared 13 year old.  Scared mom.

I could not believe I was going to be making my 3rd ER trip with a 3rd child for breathing issues in 5 days.  I was certain it would start a DCS investigation or at the very least the nurses would start to think of that episode of 48 hours with the whacko mom that made her kids sick for attention.  That's what lack of sleep does to you folks.  So in my desperation, I did it....the old wives tale...the backwoods treatment....I lathered Vick's VapoRub all over her feet and slapped some socks on her.  The 13 year old looked at this old worn momma, whose hair was going in every direction thanks to the sauna, with total confidence this would work.  *said with sarcasm for those first time readers*


I told her she has 20 minutes for this to work or we are going to the ER.  5 minutes later I thought I could tell a difference but thought it might be wishful thinking.  10 minutes later she no longer had stridor and was not as agitated.  15 minutes later I awoke to total silence thinking she must be dead next to me.  There she was peacefully sleeping.  No gasping, no noises, no cough.  No flipping way.  Waaaaay.  It worked.  Totally worked.  I don't know how and I don't really care because we slept and my child could breathe again.  I know there is only anecdotal evidence to support this claim but when you haven't slept in days and you're looking at your 3rd ER run of the week, anecdotes'll do.

Momma's will try anything to help their babies.  If rubbing VapoRub on their feet makes me a hillbilly well move the couch to the front porch and sign me up!