Day 12: Hope

Hope abides; therefore I abide.
Countless frustrations have not cowed me.
I am still alive, vibrant with life.
The black cloud will disappear,
The morning sun will appear once again
In all its supernal glory.

~Sri Chinmoy

Day 10: Hope is the thing with feathers…

Hope  is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

Source: The Poems of Emily Dickinson Edited

Day 9: Moving out of fear….

I’ll admit it.   Fear is a huge battle for me.  It looms large in the middle of the night, seizing me just before the dawn.   My stomach clenches and at times I can feel the panic rising up.   I am learning however, that I do not have to be a victim to fear and each time I find myself a bit stronger a little more able to take away it’s power…
My road map away from fear….

• First and foremost I seek God.  I ask Him for His comfort, peace and wisdom.
• Second, I tell myself the the truth.   It won’t always be this way and things are rarely as bad as they seem in the middle of the night.   I speak affirmation to myself, sometimes I even say it out loud.   For instance last night I woke up to feed our 2 week old foster son and was gripped with a common fear: what if I have cancer, and I don’t even know it….(the scars from losing a son and then an uncle to cancer are still very close to the surface).   The truth is that even if I did have cancer, God is my refuge and keeper.  He has numbered my days.  I do not need to fear death because I know the author of life.   Another common fear that attacks me: what if the economy crashes again??   The truth is that God will supply all my needs according to His riches in glory, and He has never allowed the righteous to be forsaken.   Chances are if you are trapped by fear you will find a carefully crafted lie hiding behind the door.  The truth really does set you free.
• Finally I focus on hope.   Hope is a vacuum that sucks out all the fear.   I give my energy to those things that lift me up, to my hopes and my dreams and I focus on the wonderful faithfulness God has already shown.

*sorry guys, I am bit behind, holding babies takes up a lot of my time these days….

Day 8: Where does hope come from…

In my journey learning to parent two traumatized children with attachment issues I read a lot.   In one book I found this thought particularly profound:

At the core there are really only two emotions: love or fear.  Every other emotion or reaction stems directly from one of  these two places.  You are either operating out of fear or you are operating out of love.

The Bible tells us that perfect love casts out fear…where there is love there is hope.  Hope squashes fear.
Are you without hope?  I challenge you to take stock: where are you operating from?  Are you angry?  Frustrated? Discouraged?  If you can answer yes to any or all of this then friend, you have moved from place of love to a place of fear.   The good news is, you do not have to stay there!

Day 7: When the world tries to steal your hope…

Have you watched the news lately?  Government shut downs, shootings, more corruption, more greed, more hurt….little hope.  Where do you hide when everything, everyone around is crying recession or worse?
If your hope is in this world then I am not sure there is much lasting hope to be found.  What we need is a shelter in the storm.  We can hope (and should!) that the powers that be will get it together soon and the government shutdown won’t continue but in the end people disappoint us.   What we need is a hope that does not disappoint….
Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God….and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. Romans 5:2,5

Day 6: The Lord is my portion….

 

therefore I have hope.

The Lord is my portion.  But what does that mean?

Portion:

1:  an individual's part or share of something: as

a :  a share received by gift or inheritance

b : dowry

c :  enough food especially of one kind to serve one person at one meal

2:  an individual's lot, fate, or fortune :  one's share of good and evil

I am still learning what this means exactly, day after day of walking with Him slowly teaches me that He is all I need, He is my source of hope.

We recently walked through some difficult days financially.  I begged God for this one thing and in the end I had to let that thing go.   I searched the scriptures for His promises, something that would quiet my heart and reassure me that we would not hit that one milestone I was so afraid of….I read that He never leaves us forsaken, that our seed will never beg for bread but in my heart I knew He was whispering:

If you lose it all, can you still believe and know that I am enough?   What if I say no again?   Can you surrender this also, and still hope in me?

We didn’t lose it all but I did have to let go that thing that I treasured so much.  It hurt, I won’t lie but you know what?  He was, He is, He always will be enough.

The Lord is my inheritance, my good thing….I have hope because I have Him.   And because I have Him I am enough because He is more than enough.

Day 5: It just might be hope….

I love this song.

 Hope has a way of turning it’s face to you, just when you least expect.  You walk in a room, you look out a window and something there leaves you breathless….You say to yourself, it’s been awhile since I felt this but it feels like it might be hope.

Hope does that sometimes.  It catches you off guard, it takes your breath away, it reminds you: not all is lost…
But this I call to mind therefore I have hope:  the steadfast love of the Lord never fails, His mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning.  The Lord is my portion says my soul, therefore I will hope in him.  Lamentations 3:21-24

Day 4: Hope is risky business…

You know you’ve said it: I just don’t want to get my hopes up…..
It is risky to hope.  Once you let yourself start hoping you are committed to that thing.   And…what if….your hopes are dashed?  Is the pain worth the risk?  Yes.  100 times yes.
Here’s why it is more risky to live without hope:

• Hope partners you with the Almighty…. there is something in hope that requires surrender.   I don’t know how to adequately explain this but at it’s center hope acknowledges I am not big enough for this.  I can’t do this on my own. 
• Hope is for dreamers….and dreamers change the world.  Before you can do it you must dream it.   Dreaming is a slippery slope and before long you find yourself face first in hope.  Keep dreaming, keep hoping there is a world out there that needs you.
• Hope completes love.  Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things.  Stop hoping and love is a casualty.  Without love…we.are.nothing.

Yes, there will be times when you will be disappointed.  You will hurt.   Hope will be hard.  You might just risk it all and find in the end all that you have left is Jesus…but even then, what have you really lost?
All of our discouragements, disappointments, and let downs are answered in this simple truth:  God knows that the best thing He can give you is Himself.   Even if the pain is beyond bearing….
Keep hoping friend.

Day 3: What the princess didn't know….

Tamar.  A daughter of the king.  A princess.   Who lost all hope…..
The story of Tamar is found in chapter 13 of Samuel.  Do you know the last thing the Bible tells us about Tamar?
So Tamar remained desolate in her brother Absalom's house. 2 Samuel 13:20
Do you know what desolate means?   Yes, you guessed it: without hope.    Let me tell you Tamar’s story…..
Tamar was very beautiful and her brother (likely a half brother) Amnon fell in love with her.  (or more likely lust…)  He was so obsessed with her that he made himself sick and upon advice of a “friend” he pretended to be very ill and requested that the king (both his father and Tamar’s) send Tamar to him and help care for him.   The king sent Tamar as requested and despite her pleas Amnon raped her.    The Bible then tells us that “the hate with which he hated her was greater than the love with which he loved her.”   Did you catch that?   In his heart Amnon knew he had done a horrible thing.   Tamar now represented his sin to him and he could no longer bear the sight of her.  To add insult to injury he called a servant to throw her out of his house.
In her shame and agony she tore her royal garments and put ashes upon her head and the last thing we know about her is that she went to her brother Absalom’s house, without hope.
There is so much to learn from this story but what I really want you to see is this:   There is only so much someone else can take from you.   What happened to this likely very young girl was horrendous but it did not change who she was… he could not take her identity, she was still a daughter of the king. 
And finally know this: no one can take your hope.     That is something you have to relinquish.   Hold onto it with your very life.  Whatever has happened, whatever hurtful words have been spoken do not let it define you and do not let have power over you.  Go to your Father’s house, let him heal you, let him defend you.  I know, I know, words are easily spoken, but I tell you from experience: you are never without hope and there is nothing God can’t redeem.

Day 2: Where Hope and Faith Meet….

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Heb 11:1
What is hope?   Hope is the desire paired with the expectation for something….In other words I may wish for the President to visit my house one day but I don’t really expect that to happen.   I do however, hope that a dear friend will be able to come next week and have good reason to believe that she will do just that. 
Merriam-Webster defines faith this way:
firm belief in something for which there is no proof…. complete trust
Faith is the vehicle that carries hope.  Faith gives us the confidence that we will receive that which we hope for, it is the strong, unshakeable belief that we will have that for which we hope although we have no visible evidence.  But faith in what?   I had faith in medicine, I hoped that my son would be healed.  I expected that when they said his chances to survive, be cured even were 90% that he would a long, good life.   The odds were in his favor…yet my faith and hope and medicine did not save my son.   I was left confused, angry and distant from God.   Not understanding His promises  I believed Him to be untrustworthy at best, sadistic at worst.  I prayed and He failed me.  Because I did not know Him quite as well as I believed my faith and hope were misplaced.
My soul, wait in silence for God only, for my hope is from Him. Ps. 62:5
It was a long, dark process back but I began to understand that God had not failed me.  He had not left me without hope.  His promises are infinitely broader and more beautiful than this revolving planet can hold, they reach far beyond life and death and are centered deep within who He is….and who He is in good.
So then, if faith is the vehicle, Jesus must be the driver and we must trust that where He takes us He will keep us. 

Day 1: When you have lost your hope….

I remember hearing my husband’s voice over the phone….”they think it’s cancer…”   I went to bed that night unconcerned.  Surely God would not allow my husband to walk that road twice, after all he had already lost a wife…wasn’t that enough?
But it was cancer.  Suddenly God seemed a very strange, dangerous thing.  If you couldn’t trust him to keep your children safe…what exactly could you trust him for?  For the moment the fear almost overwhelmed me….we are, none of us, safe…
Yet, here I was…3 months pregnant, with all my children, not to mention a toddler and an infant just over 6 months old.   Several times a week I left them home to drive to a town an hour away with a boy much braver than I, hoping they would save his life.
We prayed and prayed and prayed.  God said no over and over and over.  I lost hope.   In that desperate place of wishing and wanting I became angry with God.  I railed at Him for letting us down.  
Why am I telling you this?   Because I want you to know if you are in that same dark place, I understand.   And because, I want you to know that you can hope again.
My son was not healed from cancer… but God did not forget us.  He renewed our hope and revealed Himself to us in ways that I am not sure we could have comprehended any other way.   Where I once placed my hope in medicine, prognoses, and percentages I now place my hope solely Him.  It didn’t happen overnight and it wasn’t always pretty but I am convinced that when we stand before Him face to face it will be the times of wounding that we will be most grateful for, because it was in those times that He showed us Himself, hope incarnate. 
 Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.  Romans 5:5

31 Days of Hope….

*I’m linking up with The Nesting Place for the 31 day writing challenge!

The Merriam Webster’s dictionary defines hope this way:
to cherish a desire with anticipation
to desire with expectation of obtainment
and…
to expect with confidence
There is so much in life that we dare not hope for…that we dare not expect…but though the days are hard and the nights may be long we still can hope for morning.  We still hope that God will meet us exactly where we are….
Let’s talk hope the next 31 days…lets anticipate that God will meet us where we are and fill us to overflowing.   Let’s believe together that we are enough and that He is so much more than enough…

Day 1: When you have lost your hope... 
Day 2: Where hope and faith meet... 
Day 3: What the princess didn't know...
Day 4: Hope is risky business...
Day 5: It just might be hope.. 
Day 6: The Lord is my portion
Day 7: When the world tries to steal your hope 
Day 8: Where does hope come from...
Day 9: Moving out of fear...
Day 10: Hope is a thing with feathers...

Though the fig tree may not blossom,
Nor fruit be on the vines;
Though the labor of the olive may fail,
And the fields yield no food;
Though the flock may be cut off from the fold,
And there be no herd in the stalls—
Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will joy in the God of my salvation.
The LORD God  is my strength;
He will make my feet like deer’s feet,
And He will make me walk on my high hills….
Hab. 3:17-19

In the end….

A couple of weeks ago I cried myself to sleep.  I am 37 years old but I went to bed bawling like a baby.    We are now 15 months into this journey with Abraham and Isaiah.   I have been so angry I thought my head would explode.   I have been so dog tired I literally couldn’t take another step.   I have been so discouraged by the behaviors I was seeing that I dreaded the morning.  I have doubted myself.  I have doubted our system.  I have even doubted God.   But you know what I have never done?

Regretted a single moment.  Not.even.one.

Last evening I picked up two infants.  Last night was long;  up every hour with a newborn.  This time we go into it with the intention of reuniting this precious ones with their parents… last time we knew that we were headed toward adoption.    My heart aches for these parents and babies.  May God heal and redeem…

I know, I know it sounds crazy.  WHY would we take on two infants when we already have our hands full?    I can’t explain.  All I know is God says go and we go.  

Why in the world are we doing this?

Happy Fall!

It feels like summer just got here and now it’s gone…as quickly as it came.

The days were full of lambs…

and lush pastures….

and attacking bottle babies.

Lots of smiles….

and of course, work!

Technorati Tags: summer,farm,sheep,lambs

Peach Cobbler

The timer beeped on the oven just as I was walking through the kitchen.  It’s been one of those days….one child is sick (and screaming) another child is upset that I left him at home to go grocery shopping (and screaming) and I am a bit sick myself (and considering screaming).  Today was the second day of homeschool and the peaches absolutely could.not.wait one more day to be canned.

As is typical for me, I had wonderful plans for all that we would learn today.  The children with their sweet cherub faces would look up to me with smiles, me, the doting mother meeting each and every need.  

We have so many expectations of ourselves as mothers…so many lines that must be crossed or we declare ourselves failures.  For a moment I was overwhelmed by that list left undone but I decided to look at the day in a different light.   There are only so many hours to do all that must be done and in those hours I did so much more right than I gave myself credit for….

I spoke kindly when the child mashed his peanut butter sandwich into the table.  Consequences were given but not with anger.

The peaches did get canned and the jam was made.

Everyone was clean (well, mostly) fed and loved on.

The dishes were washed and put away.

And the peach cobbler was delightful.

Hello! My name is Rachel….

and I am addicted to food.  

I spent last weekend back home in the mountains as I mentioned.  What I didn’t mention is that I was there to attend my step-father’s funeral.  A man, who had he been able to break the addiction of too much, would very likely still be alive today.   While I want to honor his memory, the sad truth is food killed him.   And as I stood there in my mother’s home I had to admit….if I do not get this under control, eventually it is going to kill me too…

I am learning slowly and some days I stumble so hard I wonder if I ever will beat this…in fact I had almost come to the conclusion that it was too hard, I would always be in bondage.  “I will just be fat!” I told myself.   But the truth is this is really not about fat or skinny and it really isn’t even about the food.   It is about me, who I believe I am and who God made me to be…

Ironically when the struggle was most fierce I came across this:

Fight For Beauty, Rihanna’s Story

and this:

Do you know addiction?

which prompted me to step out of fear and write this.  This post, that I have considered writing 100 times, but I have been unable to because the pain of it is so raw, is more of a line in the sand than anything….a declaration to do the work that must be done even if the healing is slow.

Hello, my name is Rachel….and God is healing me from my addiction to food…

A day in the life…

Recently I had a few well meant conversations with a few well meaning people who felt compelled to share their observations of a weekend/hour/minute spent with our oldest little (who is by far the most severe in terms of trauma behavior).  In a nutshell they consisted of how well he behaved in their presence and then the usual “perhaps you are too hard on him”

“if you treat someone like they are bad…”

“you are always upset with him”

“he can’t move before you are after him”

This based on how kind, sweet and obedient these children are in the presence of others.

I understand the motives behind this, I really do….but lately I am not up for it.  Lately I have been running like a chicken with my head cut off to fiber shows, visits with far away parents, my step father’s funeral in TN and when I am home the little is very angry.  Understandably angry, I have been gone a lot; but until you’ve lived it….it’s really hard for me to listen to your advice.  You just don’t understand.  I can not explain to you adequately the exhaustion, the frustration, the grief that watching a child destroy the world around him (even at times himself) causes a mother.  

Yesterday Todd and I both were able to be with the boys.  We had some hiccups but it was a noticeably better day for me.  

“Wow, today went really well!  The boys were great!”

“Are you kidding me?” my husband said, astonished “They were horrible today.  I had to correct them all day long.  They are never this badly behaved with me.” 

Yep.  That paints a pretty good picture.   The smiling child you see is not the one I live with…and most of the time that’s okay.  Much of the time I understand the grief and sadness that compels him to punish me in the first mom’s place.   But the words hurt.   The judgments burn and honestly they make a hard job just that much harder.     I know you want to help and I understand your concern but leave the advice to those who are trained to understand the wounds these children have endured.  They have a therapist and case worker watching closely over them, they will not allow them to be mistreated.   I am not doing this rogue, trust me.  Please, Please understand that the behavior directed at me is not a result or in response to my treatment of them.   Yes, I become overwhelmed at times but I love them deeply and I am doing everything I can to help them heal.

I love this post: The Whipping Mom I think she explains it well. 

25 things you might not know about me….link up*

*linking up here :)

1.  I love girlie things.

2.  I had all of my kids at home except Josiah, he was born in a free standing birthing center.  I have never been to the hospital to have a baby.

3.  My first car was an orange Chevette with wood paneling with the word Woody on the back. 

4.  I was born in Opelika, Alabama

5.  My legal name is Kachel, not Rachel.  Someone misspelled it on my birth certificate. 

6.  Although I have spent more of my life in Michigan, I will never feel so at home as when I am in the hills of Sevier County TN.

7.  If my husband would not die from shock I would have dreadlocks and several tattoos. 

8.  My husband is 15 years older than me.  (This probably explains #7)

9.  There was a day that I knew every single word to every single Prince song.

10.  I hate crickets.  I really hate earwigs.

11.  I didn’t start drinking coffee until I was 36 years old.

12.  I love to sing.  I also play guitar.  a little badly

13.  I am superstitious.  I can’t help it.  I know that it isn’t bad luck to kill a cricket but I still can’t do it.   And I as I said I hate crickets.

14.  My Mamaw would have given me or my sister the spanking of our lives if we ever killed a cricket.  or opened an umbrella inside.  don’t get me started…

15.  Jesus saved my life.  literally.   I’ll tell you all about it someday.

16.  My nose is pierced.  It was done in the pre-husband days so sadly it has gone the way of tattoos and dreadlocks.

17.  I am scared freaked out  terrified of the dark. 

18.  My mom still lives in Tennessee.  She is hoping to sell her house and move up by me and I am irrationally upset, to the point of tears.  My papaw is down there and I can not bear the fact of leaving him alone although he has been dead for close to 20 years.  She needs to move up here, I just don’t want to sell the house.  I am silly like that.

19.  I am incredibly silly both in the way of #18 and in the general understanding of silliness.   I can crack a joke anywhere, anytime.

20.   I hate to cry, not even a little.

21.  I WILL NOT watch a movie that will make me cry.  I have never seen Titanic, Schindler’s List, Faith Like Potatoes, or Courageous for that very reason.   See #20.

21.  I hate seafood.   I went to Red Lobster once.  I had a hamburger.

22.  I am a sugar addict.  Not in the “oh shucks, I have a sweet tooth” way, more in the “I am killing myself with food” way.  I was recently told that I need to treat sugar the way an alcoholic treats alcohol. I am desperately trying to do that.

23.  I find it offensive when people use the words “foster care” “foster” or “adoption” when referring to pets.  Don’t get me wrong, I love animals.  I think we need to care for them well  and I honor the depth of joy and am deeply grateful for the blessing of irreplaceable companionship that they bring to our lives but, I fear that using the same language to describe caring for an animal as well as caring for a child minimizes the pain and grief the child experiences.

24.  I am a little scared you will hate me for typing #23 and now I feel like I need to use even more words to defend my position and make you love me again.  I love words and for people to love me.

25.    A friend once told me “You are water.  He is the container.”   That perfectly explains me and my husband. 

Shhhh....

Sorry for the quiet blog. I have had many thoughts and ideas ruminating in my head but I struggle translating them to paper ...er...computer, whatever. It has been a season of changes and I often feel like I am just stumbling along.

I am spending a few days home, in the mountains of Tennessee and I am amazed at how much I missed them. It is almost as if some dead part starts to wake up when I get to the foothills and then learns to dance once we are all the way in. The mountains have this strange way about them...a gentle constant pull that you just barely notice and struggle to name. Once you are here the outside world spins around you but you are only slightly aware of it while in the mountain's embrace. I wish I could stay longer, forever...

Broken Bread….

My sister and her children spent the week with us.    Soon the fundraising begins, the nitty gritty of details….the end of life in America.   I want to beg her to stop.   I want her here, safe, without a gazillion miles between us.   I want to watch her children grow.  I want to hold their hands.  I dread that much of who they will be will unfold for me only in pictures and email and phone calls (and that dependent on just how much access they have to the technology required to reach me here.)   I don’t, however.   I sit silent  with their decision, this heavy call.   I understand some of what it means to live a yielded life even if it tears my heart….

If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters--yes, even their own life--such a person cannot be my disciple…

We had a lot of conversations this past week.    Many words spoken, contemplating the call of God.   Her as she and her husband prepare to move her children to Africa, away from all they know and me, as I teach my children to love the hurting as we raise children of trauma (who despite all the wonderfulness that is very much a part of who there are, are grieving in very difficult and exhausting ways).  What does it mean to live beyond yourself instead of for yourself?

 Here is my body, broken for you…

I wish I could put this jumble of thoughts in some coherent string of language that made sense but I struggle.   The sacred and the mundane often bump heads and we are jumbled around in the middle trying to figure out where we fit.   But of one thing I am convinced: when Jesus called his followers to take up their cross he was not referring to a charm that dangled around a chain on our necks.   I believe with all my heart that when we refuse to lay it all down for the sake of our Savior we are not withholding some needed thing from our God, but instead  we are withholding from our own selves the very thing that leads us to true joy.  When He calls us to suffering it is not to harm us, but instead to heal us….

O Shepherd. You said you would make my feet like hinds' feet and set me upon High Places".
"Well", he answered "the only way to develop hinds' feet is to go by the paths which the hinds use.”
― Hannah Hurnard, Hinds' Feet on High Places

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Courage

Today is day 6 of the stupid attachment challenge.   This challenge was a new kind of fresh hell   taught me a lot.  About myself.   Yay, I didn’t really want to know that….

I made it to day two before I decided enough is enough.  I didn’t articulate that, not even to myself.   But when little mister walked upstairs covered in pee (I so wish that I was exaggerating.   I am not.  COVERED) something inside me broke a little.  I did not touch the kid even once that day.   I decided quietly somewhere deep inside me that love was not enough and part of me gave up.  You see I had a plan.  And the plan was not working….

I kept telling myself I would start tomorrow.   Tomorrow would be better.   But we were engaged and he.would.not.stop.pushing.   I had started this thing but now all I wanted to do was let go.  I was good with going through the motions.  I can put a smile on my face and baby, I can work the plan but this was just too much.

Have you ever been roller skating?   I remember when I learned and finally felt like I was getting really good at it.  I sailed around the rink like I had wings.   I was amazing.  Until I wasn’t.   I remember finding myself waded up in the middle of the floor, wondering how I got there.
Yep.  You get where I am going with this.  Once again, here I was totally wadded up.  I was sailing with this whole therapeutic parenting thing.  Until I wasn’t.

Music moves me in an incredible way.   God designed me this way and He often sends songs my way that speak His words to me.  In the midst of the mess and the chaos he sent me this:

Brave.   I liked it.  It was catchy.  I headed to church last evening blaring it over and over.   I entered worship slightly apathetic, fearing that if I gave any more I would burst into tears.   My pastor got up and spoke about not turning around.  Don't stop.  Don't go back.  Don't give up.  Have Courage.  Then someone else got up and spoke and my heart heard:  Do we have the courage to still walk in faith even when it all goes wrong?   Do I?  What if the plan stops working?   What if it never worked in the first place?

I am reminded of the missionary in the Congo.   While she was healing after being brutally raped God spoke to her: "Can you thank me for this experience even if I never tell you why?"   Can I trust Him no matter what?   Can I thank Him?  Can I still let the words fall out...words of love, words of healing?   Can I still tell the truth?

So I stumbled a bit.   I am headed back the right direction.   This morning I had a wonderfully refreshing conversation with this woman.   I decided that I needed a little more help and I am learning to ask for it.  Right now I am a little more brave.  My little guy is still screaming and the plan may not be working...but right now, this moment I have courage.

So, here’s the truth…

Yesterday was day 3 of the challenge.  Today is day 4.   Want to know how many hugs I got in yesterday?   Exactly one.each.   The only thing we did together was eat.  The littles spent all their time pushing, trying to find the edge.  Ladies and gentlemen, I am exhausted and by gosh, I think they’ve found it.
Part of me hesitates being this honest, this out there.  But you know what?   We are never healed by hiding.   It is not the struggle that defines you it’s what you do in response to the struggle.  On one hand you could say I am not successfully completing this challenge.  You could look at all the junk that is coming to the surface and shake your head.  You could.   I won’t.   I will see the junk as an invitation to clean the wounds a bit more…I will not beat myself up for natural, human responses, instead I will move into more grace for myself.   I will celebrate what is right and I will remedy what is wrong.
There is still some healing to be done in me so that I can move more completely in love.  Life ebbs and flows and I am more capable at one moment then another.   I will take a deep breath and just be still in the moment that is here, however it looks.  I will know that He is God and He is taking me further than I thought I would go but I will also know this: what He has begun in me, He will complete.

Attachment Challenge…Day One Down

Here is a link to the challenge in case you didn’t see yesterday’s post….

day one down.    I am sad to say this but it is much easier to hug and nurture the one and not the other.  Sigh.   The other pushes me and pushes me and pushes me.   Oh and the screaming.  Did I mention that?   Sigh.  I know in my heart I need to do this but I am ever so human.
The hugs part were easy (well, in comparison).  The doing something that they choose….not.so.easy.   Especially since the other will intentionally choose something that will irk me.   The poor guy does not know what to do with all of his hurt and anger so he projects it on me.  Sigh.  (again)   Yesterday was busy and not the best for starting this challenge because I had a day planned to myself to recharge. In the end we didn’t get everything in but still I feel goodish about it.
Today I am home all day (like usual…) and aside from a beach outing our time is not already signed for.    I have no excuse but to focus on the challenge.  (Unless we talk about the fact that the other is covered in urine again.   In the shower we go….)

Oooh..this is gonna sting a bit…

So someone suggested we do challenges specifically to help us meet the needs of our trauma kiddos.  Someone else suggested this:
(drum roll please)
Christine Moer’s Attachment Challenge
So some brave souls are doing it.   Start today, start tomorrow.  Just start and blog about it.   Let us know we are not alone.   Let us know that you are human too.   Let us know just exactly how you rocked this!
Today is day one for me.   I will check in tomorrow and let you know how it goes.  I will be focusing on the challenge through next Tuesday.  

Also if you are no already reading Christine’s blog…do it.  Watch her videos too.   Really, it will help. 

***Important note: please don’t exclude yourself from the children just because you haven’t adopted/fostered/worked with trauma/whatever.   This is a good challenge to do with any children.   Now go rock it mamma!

Are you working through the attachment challenge?   Link it up here baby.   I can just feel the mojo...

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What Trouble are Giants…

The screaming continues.   Some days I am really okay with it.  Today, I am pretty sick of it.  Today I want to throw therapeutic parenting out the window and I.want.to…..SCREAM back.  I want to forget all I know about trauma and love and God and I want to think only about me.   The truth is sometimes I want to lose heart.

I whisked the non screaming children outside to breathe the air and the grass.   A moment to step back and reflect.  Remember.   A moment to reset.  Intention.   We sat in a circle each of us for a moment of peace and affirmation.   We listened to Rich Mullins remind us that it really is okay to be small.   It is okay to feel powerless and just because you feel the fear it doesn’t mean you have to embrace it.  We spoke about value and love and all that God feels for us.   I’ll admit it, today was a little harder than others but I was able to acknowledge the fear and then step away into hope and back to love.

We all face giants from time to time.   We are all small sometimes.   We cower….so weak and the problem loams so big.   Load your slingshot friend, take courage and don’t give up now….God’s got this.

I'm gonna tell you a story
That you've probably heard
And at the risk of being redundant
I'm gonna tell you something
That may not thrill you
But it could not hurt
Well it comes out of the sacred
Writing of the Israelites
It's the story of David
And how he slew Goliath
Well now the king of his country
He didn't trust in him much
And so to David's alarm
He tried to fit him in his armor
But the thing was so heavy
David couldn't stand up
So he left it by the river
Where he gathered five smooth stones
I guess it's safe to say he figured
He wasn't going out alone
He's not alone
What trouble are giants
What's wrong with being small
The bigger they come
You know the harder they fall
When you're fighting for Zion
And you're on the Lord's side
Well I think you're gonna find
They ain't no trouble at all

No trouble at all
No trouble at all
No trouble
Now there must have been some laughter
Among the Philistines
At the sight of this scrawny little shepherd
Coming out to meet the record-breaking mammoth of a man
Who was a killing machine
But it didn't shake David
'Cause he was smart enough to know
It's more the size of who you put your faith in
Than the size of your foe

What Trouble are Giants- Rich Mullins

What did I tell you to do?

I am the Sherlock Holmes of mothers.   I spend my time watching my children’s behaviors and trying to translate for them.  In my best moments anyway…in my not so best moments, well…not so much.   But even in my failing, God speaks…

One of our littles is struggling pretty significantly.  We have had to tighten the boundaries, make his space a bit lot smaller.  We limit his interaction with others and we limit his choices.  Everywhere he goes, he goes with mom or dad.  Our goal is not to punish him or “ground him” but instead to eliminate those choices that he really can not handle right now.  It is overwhelming to him right now to decide to not hit or throw rocks so we take those decisions out of the equation so that he can be successful.   Occasionally we give him a bit more freedom as a trial run.  Much of the time he only lasts for a few minutes before he will let me know through behavior that it is just too much.  Developmentally he needs to take a step back.   Yesterday, I attempted to get some yard work done and let him try out a bit of freedom.   In the end he spent most of his time outside sitting on the porch with his hands in his lap.   I have chosen to stop being frustrated by his way of communicating and instead develop a sense of “hearing” that I did not have before in which I draw from my own experience with childhood trauma and most importantly lean heavily on the leading of God.  

“I am curious Abraham…what are you afraid will happen if you just follow the rules?”       Silence

“Are you afraid I will forget about you?”

More Silence then…

“yes”

I understand.  To trust that I will be there even when the world is turned up down is hard.  To trust that God hasn’t forgotten when it feels like the sky is falling is hard.   Sometimes I want to pitch a fit too…just in case He has forgotten me.

“Let try again, do you think you can follow the rules?”

So we do (try again) and he doesn’t (follow the rules).  Not even two steps from the porch he stops to attempt to pull up a paving stone.

“What did I tell you to do?” I admonish, hoping to get him back on track before he goes too far off the rails….and I suddenly realize…

Those words, they were meant for me.   God was speaking again, this time through my own mouth.

“Rachel, what did I tell you to do?  Why are stopping on the way?  Why are letting the enemy distract you?  Why are you focused on so many things except the  one thing that I have called you to do?”

He has shown thee oh man, what is good and what the Lord requires of thee.  To act justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with thy God.   Micah 6:8

Beautiful

I remember as a child, my mother combing my hair….putting it up in pigtails or some such.  I remember that I would cry and fuss.

“It hurts to be beautiful baby girl.” she would drawl in that southern belle voice of hers that still breaks my heart.  So much pain in that voice.

I remember, and it makes me wonder….how many times do we miss the beauty for the pain?

I think of the beautiful families that I know walking a dark road, I think of the last year and just how hard it’s been…how many times have I asked the Lord to remove the pain?   How many times do we begrudge the work that the Lord is doing because we do not understand, because it is too painful. 

It hurts to be beautiful baby girl…

We have felt led by the Lord to take another direction, not necessarily a different one but one that takes us further than we expected to go…we have walked where we felt led and the way looks dim.  It’s seems a little crazy.  It is all wild and wonderful when played out in our heads but real feet walking a very real road get blisters sometimes, they hurt, they stumble.  We get tired, we get cold and lonely and sometimes we care nothing for roses because we have been too pricked by thorns.

Beauty hurts, baby…

Today, faced with indecision and the temptation to despair I remember the roses, I remember that beauty comes with a cost and I remember that He makes all things beautiful in His time.  Once more I bow my head to the pain and I submit to the husbandry of the Father knowing that all He has for me is good.   And once more I say yes, even if in saying it I tremble for fear of what that means…

To My Son….

who is downstairs screaming…

The world is a scary place.  Adults are not always safe and they do not always do what they say they will do.   I am sorry.
I listen while you scream and I pray.  I remember what it feels like to be broken.  All of us are broken, really.   I know what you mean when you say you don’t like me.  I understand when you cry.  I remember still, what it feels like to be your own best bet.  I remember the heart’s cry: just love me please.  love me just like this.  And I know that to acknowledge that cry is so painful, so heart wrenching that you must cover it with anger because what if….no one will.  
My dear sweet child, every heart everywhere is crying the very same thing.  You are not as unlovable as you fear, you just don’t have all of your words yet.  Let me give them to you.   Let’s replace the screaming and crying with words.  Words that bring healing.  Words that speak hope.   Words that bring life.
I want you to know I love you.  I want you to know that you are amazing.  I want you to know that your smile breaks my heart.  And I want you to know that when you are done screaming, I will still be here.   Always.

If you were a boat my darling, a boat my darling

I'd be the wind at your back.

If you were afraid my darling, afraid my darling

I'll be the courage you lack.

Oh, do you know we belong together?

Oh, do you know my heart is yours? 

This is my story…

The question comes up at times….
Why are you doing this?
I must admit there were times I wondered myself.   Especially in the beginning.   The beginning was hard.   The beginning always is it seems….
A year under my belt and I have learned a lot.  Mainly I have learned this: I am beautifully inept, a delightful mess;  I am often misunderstood and at times misrepresented but I have this great big Daddy God.  From the blue streaks in my hair to my too big thighs, I am a bit of a conundrum but  He loves me immensely and  I am just crazy enough to believe that when He says do it, He means it and still childlike enough to believe that where it matters, He will not let me fail.
It wasn’t always that way.  God had to work hard for me.  Tucked in the mountains of Tennessee, feeling alone and unloved, and because of trauma in my childhood, I learned to fend for myself.  My nose was pierced before it was cute (we are talking the 90’s baby) and I could cuss out a sailor.  I was angry.  I was lost.   And I was determined to need no one. 
During a particular ugly time I vaguely remember my step dad going to church.   I didn’t think much of it at the time.
One day I went to church.  That day changed my life forever.  At the risk of sounded more like a kook then I already do I will say this: God spoke directly to me.   He literally called my name. 
Inexplicably my step dad quit going to church and he certainly was not going to go to the little black church down the road from our house in Sevier County, TN.   Life continued on as it has a tendency to do.   I learned and I grew and I joined the choir.  I still miss singing in that beautiful choir even if, according to them, this silly white girl clapped funny. 
One day, out of the blue I looked out at the crowd from the choir box and there sat my mom and my step dad.   Elder Page leaned back and whispered to me:
“I know that man sitting with your mom”
“You do?”
“Yes.   He came here one day.  During the altar call he came down and asked for prayer for his daughter.  I have been praying for her ever since”
I was that daughter.   This little white girl was sitting behind the man that had prayed for her faithfully and that one day had the privilege of leading her to Christ…singing in the choir in his church, the only black church in Sevierville, TN that I am aware of  in 1995.
All that to say this:
I was adopted by God.  Not because I was beautiful or talented or even slightly attractive but because of His great love.  And because of His great love I am compelled to love.  When I look at these children I see myself, I see my sister and I see Daddy God reaching down to save us.  I remember that He has restored the dignity that was stolen from us and I remember that He gave so much.   How can I say no to His call?   In my weak moments I must admit that there is still a small voice in the very core of who I am crying out “More, God, more of you…” but the whole of me is frightened of what that will cost.   May God cause that small voice to become a deafening roar so that even those who are near may hear it too…may I learn to stop fighting and start dying.
Religion that our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress….James 1:27
The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Matthew 25:40
I would love to hear your story.   Leave a comment, link your blog, drop me an email.   Tell me what is amazing about you…

Someone Stop the Ringing….

The phone is ringing and I want it not to be ringing.  I want it to not be noisy at all cuz right now, right this minute God and I are having a pretty intense conversation about all this love stuff and how 2+2 does not at this moment equal 4.   My phone is the wonderful type that says in a delightful monotone, metallic voice who is calling at the moment.   “Call from @#$!, Call from @#$!, Call from @#$!”   (Okay it doesn’t say a curse word but it feels like it, and that is what I feel like doing when I answer it)

A couple of days ago I waxed eloquent all about the glory of love.  But today, when the rubber meets the road I feel like love has crashed and left me sprawling all over the highway.   Right now I feel like I have put in my coin and God keeps flashing “OUT OF ORDER! MAKE ANOTHER SELECTION” at me.   And to top it off there’s the kid in the pantry trying to convince that he is not sneaking food and I am seriously thinking “Eat whatever you want cuz I’m done feeding the lot of ya!”   I mean I’m all excited about laying it down for the least of these, until the least of these start screaming in my face.

This must be what dying means….sometimes you just have to keep doing what is right, until it feels right.   True love has very little to do with how you may or may not feel.

May I be broken bread, may I be poured out wine
May I incarnate, Your kindness Lord
Spend my life Jesus, anyway You please
Whether on great things, or what seems small
Your will done your way
Your will done your way
Your will done your way
I will not fight You
Take me past the line that my heart draws
I will not fight You
Take me beyond the laziness of my thoughts
I will not fight
Lead me further than I've gone before
I will not fight You
I'm abandoned to Your call
Do not let there be, any part of me
That’s untouchable, unreachable
Let my delight be, living out Your dreams
Washing dirty feet, and kissing yours
God let Your dreams come true, dream through us
God let Your dreams come true through us

Broken Bread- Rend Collective Experiment

This, then is love…

I have often thought I knew what love was…I have often been wrong.   God has been revealing it to me slowly because He understands I am frail and because He knows that love is a frighteningly powerful thing.

If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them.  Luke 6:32

He is showing me that loving means dying.   To truly love I must no longer think of my owns need or desires but I must move in the best interest of others despite what it costs, trusting that He will provide.    I have often struggled with the verse that spoke of turning the other check.   Does Christ literally mean that I do not defend myself?   Does He really expect me to allow myself to be a doormat while others use me?   

For I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, The servant is not greater than his lord; neither he that is sent greater than he that sent him. If you know these things, happy are you if you do them.  John 13:15-17

When we first began with the boys I was a hot, tired mess.   I cried myself to sleep for fear of what the next day might bring…how much more screaming, raging, biting, kicking, cussing can I take?   Then I began to do as Christ instructed, I allowed love to do the work.   When self cried out (as it often does) “this isn’t fair!”   “you shouldn’t be treated this way” I ignored it’s pitiful cries.   I get tired easily but love can take a lot.   As self dies the labor becomes easier and love given away, multiplies.    My littles are unsure what to do with love.  Screaming does not move it.   Tantrums do cause it to run.   And despite their best efforts I see they are oddly attracted to it.  Once an angry detestable thing, I was nothing more than the “giver of all rules and punishment”.   They saw me as the thing to fight against but now love has made me beautiful to them.   Slowly I see them less inclined to turn to strangers for help in their cause against me, slowly, ever slowly love is making me trustworthy.

I still do not understand love as I wish and more often than I care to admit self gets free reign but now that I am acquainted with love I desire to see it fully realized in my life.   What rules and structure were unable to accomplish in months love did in weeks.   Yes, we still have rules, we still have structure, in fact not much on the outside has changed.   But on the inside….the transformation is nothing short of miraculous.

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.  If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.  If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing….And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13:1-3,13

When it feels like the rain just might not stop….

Sometimes you feel like you are drenched through but the rain just keeps coming.  You want to hide in your bedroom and cry but the children need breakfast, and the house needs cleaning and the bills need paying.   And the promises of God seems so far away in the midst of the mess and the storm.

You doubt yourself, and (if you’re honest) you doubt God and it all seems confusing and hard.  

Everyone wants to give up sometimes…but the magic happens when you don’t.

Sometimes the sacred gets lost in the mundane and we forget who we are….who’s we are.   Fear seems so big because it stomps it’s feet and in wishing we were more we forget that He is enough.

Spring…how I love you