just looked at the date since my last post. could it possibly be 4 months since i last blogged? ugh! i've missed it terribly.
i'm not sure how the rest of you have handled this winter but smolen nation struggled. it's been a long winter. and long winters drain me. leave me dull. the sunshine the past 24 hours has revived my little soul.
i try and emotionally prep every fall for the winter. i don't enjoy the cold winter months. and call me a big bah hum bug but i'm not even a fan of of the christmas season. maybe it's the commercialism or the schedule that feels like it's jacked up on steroids or the fact that i don't think Jesus was even actually born on december 25th. the gray skies leave me with a blue heart. the flip flops by the front door get replaced by boots and scattered gloves. i miss days of throwing up a wet swimsuit in the laundry room to dry and begrudgingly find myself washing loads and loads of jeans and sweatshirts.
on top of that, i am still in the midst of a 2 months fever that will not let my body go. 2 months of chills and nightsweats and fatigue. 2 months of doctor visits and tests and procedures that i'm not very fond of. it's been that kind of winter.
my kids have felt it too. i believe i have broken up more fights between them in the last 10 weeks than i have in any other stretch of their lives. oh, they love each other deeply but they are falling a little short in liking one another very much these days. they need sunshine. they need to run the neighborhood with their friends. they need spring break, the return of popscicles, bike riding, and laying outside on a quilt reading a book. smolen nation is just wired that way.
i gotta admit, though, i learned some good life lessons during the months of cold. i just much prefer learning them with the warmth of sun bearing down on my face and freckled shoulders. i have this awful tendency (as demonstrated in the previous paragraphs) of longing for something else ahead when i feel frozen or caught in a spot or season that i want out of. i can even almost romanticize of what else could be instead of wrapping my arms fully around what's in front of me.
so i worked hard this winter at staying present. tried to see what God was teaching me. kept reminding myself that walking through uninspiring seasons and finding beauty in God's purposes is much better than trying to go around, under, or over them. i saw that sometimes the very best thing you can do is to simply nail your feet to the ground and refuse to budge on all that you believe. seriously, there's always this tendency in us that when things get uncomfortable we need to manufacture a change so that life can become more fulfilling or exciting. a new job. new friends. new clothes. new church. different kids. a more understanding spouse. i learned this winter that there is no true joy in disengaging on the life that God has entrusted to me.
i just have to have the eyes to see it.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
words
the older i get, the more i'm coming to recognize the power and influence of words.
we had an incident in our neighborhood last week that shocked me a bit. in fact, i had wavered back and forth whether or not to blog about it but it is an incident that impacted and impassioned us as a family.
we live in a neighborhood full of kids. my kids love living in our house for that very reason. they have spent an innumerable amount of moments with these kiddos....summer days that have run into late summer nights, sleepovers, after school, winter break, and so on. there have been countless games of kickball, dodgeball, wiffle ball, and football played in our back yard and basketball and four square in our driveway. they have riddden their bikes in the warm months and built snow forts when it turns cold. i've handed out a gazillion popsicles, chocolate chip cookies, and brownies to all of their dirty little hands. it's been a safe place for my kids to grow up. they will go into their adulthood with a lot of good memories from these days.
last week, though, there was a hurtful incident. there are a couple of older kiddos from another neighborhood that like to come over to our street and "stir the pot", as my grandma used to say. hurtful words and throwing rocks and the like. however, last week they took it too far. while one of my daughters was down playing in the front yard at one of her friend's house, these two got ahold of a permanent marker and took it to her face. then in big letters, they wrote the word "retard" across her neck.
ouch.
my kiddo was crushed. as i saw my neighbor friend on the sidewalk walking her down to me, i could tell immediately that my child had been gotten at the core....the tears and the embarrassment. i don't blame her. it would've gotten to my core too. all she kept saying over and over was, "they wrote retard on me, mommy". she had been labeled and somewhere down in that sweet, little heart of hers i knew she was wondering if that were true. we contacted the appropriate people to make sure nothing like this happened again in our neighborhood or at school. but my daughter needed more. she needed that wound to be binded up and healed. so i prayed that God would reach in her heart and go to the places that only He could go and do what only He could do.
i hurt deeply for her but i gotta say, i saw something very healing happen over the next few days. i saw the people in her life gather around her and speak words of love and affirmation and protection into her. her dad, her siblings, her friends, her small group leader, her principal, her teacher, her school counselor, our small group friends. i watched as the negative impact of that one word got swallowed up in the flood of other words meant for her encouragement and building up. it was a beautiful process to observe.
i may be more sensitive than most but i get moved deeply by the conversations, comments, and words that i encounter during a week. i probably don't let things roll off my back as easily as i should. on the other hand, i'm not shy about telling the people in my life that i love them and can't imagine doing life without them.
i think about conversations i've had just in the past 7 days alone and i can recognize how those words are helping to shape and mold my life. i had one conversation with my mom about how God uses pain and suffering to draw us to Him. i had another conversation with 2 pastors that breathed vision and direction into what God was going to bring about in the months to come. i spent an hour with my mentor and we talked about relationships and moving on when different seasons of your life come to an end. i received a phone call that held bad news of cancer spreading to the brain of a family member. i laughed my head off during a hay ride with our small group and walked through the entire night blown away that i even get the privilege of doing life with them. it goes on and on and on.
i think we may be losing the art of speaking intentionally into the lives of others. we live in a social networking world where it's easy to express our dislike about something that someone does without ever having to deal with the emotional fall out from it. words spoken without accountability. words flow off our tongues or through our keypads without a consciousness of what is being planted. there are people we encounter that just leave us feeling like we've been slimed on.
we build careers. we build churches. we build ministries. we build bank accounts. we build reputations. but do we build each other up in a way that helps heal, sustain, direct, and restore?
i'll take a face to face conversation any day. nothing fills my bucket more than looking eye to eye with someone and hearing where they are at in their journey. it requires intentionality. it requires time. it requires effort. it requires vulnerability. it requires me to measure my words and the weight of them. i'll pay that price, though. it's definitely one worth paying.
we had an incident in our neighborhood last week that shocked me a bit. in fact, i had wavered back and forth whether or not to blog about it but it is an incident that impacted and impassioned us as a family.
we live in a neighborhood full of kids. my kids love living in our house for that very reason. they have spent an innumerable amount of moments with these kiddos....summer days that have run into late summer nights, sleepovers, after school, winter break, and so on. there have been countless games of kickball, dodgeball, wiffle ball, and football played in our back yard and basketball and four square in our driveway. they have riddden their bikes in the warm months and built snow forts when it turns cold. i've handed out a gazillion popsicles, chocolate chip cookies, and brownies to all of their dirty little hands. it's been a safe place for my kids to grow up. they will go into their adulthood with a lot of good memories from these days.
last week, though, there was a hurtful incident. there are a couple of older kiddos from another neighborhood that like to come over to our street and "stir the pot", as my grandma used to say. hurtful words and throwing rocks and the like. however, last week they took it too far. while one of my daughters was down playing in the front yard at one of her friend's house, these two got ahold of a permanent marker and took it to her face. then in big letters, they wrote the word "retard" across her neck.
ouch.
my kiddo was crushed. as i saw my neighbor friend on the sidewalk walking her down to me, i could tell immediately that my child had been gotten at the core....the tears and the embarrassment. i don't blame her. it would've gotten to my core too. all she kept saying over and over was, "they wrote retard on me, mommy". she had been labeled and somewhere down in that sweet, little heart of hers i knew she was wondering if that were true. we contacted the appropriate people to make sure nothing like this happened again in our neighborhood or at school. but my daughter needed more. she needed that wound to be binded up and healed. so i prayed that God would reach in her heart and go to the places that only He could go and do what only He could do.
i hurt deeply for her but i gotta say, i saw something very healing happen over the next few days. i saw the people in her life gather around her and speak words of love and affirmation and protection into her. her dad, her siblings, her friends, her small group leader, her principal, her teacher, her school counselor, our small group friends. i watched as the negative impact of that one word got swallowed up in the flood of other words meant for her encouragement and building up. it was a beautiful process to observe.
i may be more sensitive than most but i get moved deeply by the conversations, comments, and words that i encounter during a week. i probably don't let things roll off my back as easily as i should. on the other hand, i'm not shy about telling the people in my life that i love them and can't imagine doing life without them.
i think about conversations i've had just in the past 7 days alone and i can recognize how those words are helping to shape and mold my life. i had one conversation with my mom about how God uses pain and suffering to draw us to Him. i had another conversation with 2 pastors that breathed vision and direction into what God was going to bring about in the months to come. i spent an hour with my mentor and we talked about relationships and moving on when different seasons of your life come to an end. i received a phone call that held bad news of cancer spreading to the brain of a family member. i laughed my head off during a hay ride with our small group and walked through the entire night blown away that i even get the privilege of doing life with them. it goes on and on and on.
i think we may be losing the art of speaking intentionally into the lives of others. we live in a social networking world where it's easy to express our dislike about something that someone does without ever having to deal with the emotional fall out from it. words spoken without accountability. words flow off our tongues or through our keypads without a consciousness of what is being planted. there are people we encounter that just leave us feeling like we've been slimed on.
we build careers. we build churches. we build ministries. we build bank accounts. we build reputations. but do we build each other up in a way that helps heal, sustain, direct, and restore?
i'll take a face to face conversation any day. nothing fills my bucket more than looking eye to eye with someone and hearing where they are at in their journey. it requires intentionality. it requires time. it requires effort. it requires vulnerability. it requires me to measure my words and the weight of them. i'll pay that price, though. it's definitely one worth paying.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
testing
i've been stuck the past couple of weeks. kind of had that "deer in the headlight" look in my eyes. before i start my story, let me say, i'm perfectly fine.
it started with a visit to my doctor's office. i had a cough that wouldn't go away and pain in my upper abdomen that had been around for about a month. when you've had cancer and you go into the doctor with those type of symptoms, you kinda know in the back of your head what's coming.....testing. and testing always leaves you with time waiting and thought processes that are a struggle.
testing plunges you into the world of waiting rooms and cheery nurses. insurance cards and needles. probes and gadgets that see more of you than your own spouse ever has. conversations with doctors and sleepless nights. lots of what if's.
testing reminds you of how thankful you are to have good friends. friends that pray for you and check on you. friends that love on your kids and feed them and take them to their soccer game. friends that pass up the opportunity to take pictures of you on their cell phone when you're higher than a kite from the drugs you received for an endoscopy. friends that make you laugh when you want to cry and let you cry when you really need to.
testing also leads you to places with other people going through testing. some people who are in the middle of the battle for their lives. people who fall apart weeping in the arms of a nurse because they just received news that changed their world. i saw that.
i've gone through this before. lots of times. i've got great doctors who seem to be committed to making sure if cancer ever did come back, they would be right on top of it as soon as possible. they handle it all with great ease and calmness. i still don't handle it well at all. i thought i would be better at it by now but i'm not. i freeze. what was so important the week before, falls to the bottom of the priority list... i wasn't thinking about how much we had saved up for our new home or what was going on at church or when to begin christmas shopping for the kids.
my thoughts became restricted and then ran frantically down rabbit trails. fear and doubt and pain and the unknown do that. it was a battle to remember that the One who made this ole' body of mine is the One who doesn't let anything touch it without His "okay". a cycle of surrendering and taking back and then surrendering again. i didn't get out of that place until the nurse at the oncologist's office said, "no signs of tumor or masses." relieved but incredibly humbled once again.
i found myself reminded of how thankful i should be that i get to wrestle mandy to bed every night and make matt's peanut butter sandwich for lunch and listen to mallory practice for the nine-hundredth time on the piano and not get mad at marcy for swiping my favorite polar fleece to keep her warm at night. those are gifts and i forget it all the time.
i think people "freeze" over a lot of different situations.... loss of a job, loss of a relationship, loss of health, loss of a dream, loss of comfort. i've known a few people who never seem to have gotten past their losses in life. maybe the real gains are made when you realize that it's not the losses you should be desperate to avoid but rather getting stuck in those losses.
someone once told me, "rachel, don't seek so hard after the answer you want. seek hard after God. then,whatever answer you get will be easier to accept." i know, much easier in theory than in application. still....it's true.
it started with a visit to my doctor's office. i had a cough that wouldn't go away and pain in my upper abdomen that had been around for about a month. when you've had cancer and you go into the doctor with those type of symptoms, you kinda know in the back of your head what's coming.....testing. and testing always leaves you with time waiting and thought processes that are a struggle.
testing plunges you into the world of waiting rooms and cheery nurses. insurance cards and needles. probes and gadgets that see more of you than your own spouse ever has. conversations with doctors and sleepless nights. lots of what if's.
testing reminds you of how thankful you are to have good friends. friends that pray for you and check on you. friends that love on your kids and feed them and take them to their soccer game. friends that pass up the opportunity to take pictures of you on their cell phone when you're higher than a kite from the drugs you received for an endoscopy. friends that make you laugh when you want to cry and let you cry when you really need to.
testing also leads you to places with other people going through testing. some people who are in the middle of the battle for their lives. people who fall apart weeping in the arms of a nurse because they just received news that changed their world. i saw that.
i've gone through this before. lots of times. i've got great doctors who seem to be committed to making sure if cancer ever did come back, they would be right on top of it as soon as possible. they handle it all with great ease and calmness. i still don't handle it well at all. i thought i would be better at it by now but i'm not. i freeze. what was so important the week before, falls to the bottom of the priority list... i wasn't thinking about how much we had saved up for our new home or what was going on at church or when to begin christmas shopping for the kids.
my thoughts became restricted and then ran frantically down rabbit trails. fear and doubt and pain and the unknown do that. it was a battle to remember that the One who made this ole' body of mine is the One who doesn't let anything touch it without His "okay". a cycle of surrendering and taking back and then surrendering again. i didn't get out of that place until the nurse at the oncologist's office said, "no signs of tumor or masses." relieved but incredibly humbled once again.
i found myself reminded of how thankful i should be that i get to wrestle mandy to bed every night and make matt's peanut butter sandwich for lunch and listen to mallory practice for the nine-hundredth time on the piano and not get mad at marcy for swiping my favorite polar fleece to keep her warm at night. those are gifts and i forget it all the time.
i think people "freeze" over a lot of different situations.... loss of a job, loss of a relationship, loss of health, loss of a dream, loss of comfort. i've known a few people who never seem to have gotten past their losses in life. maybe the real gains are made when you realize that it's not the losses you should be desperate to avoid but rather getting stuck in those losses.
someone once told me, "rachel, don't seek so hard after the answer you want. seek hard after God. then,whatever answer you get will be easier to accept." i know, much easier in theory than in application. still....it's true.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
long journey home
my heart has been heavy the past couple of days. yesterday, marcy, matt, mallory and i went to visit with my grandparents and mom for the afternoon. i love going to my grandma's house. always have.
i grew up in the same small town as my grandparents. they came to my ball games and were at every great milestone to celebrate. we all went to a little baptist church together. when i was in college and came home on the weekends, i would always sit between my grandma and grandpa during church. it was safe there. and safe places seemed hard to find when i was in my late teens / early 20's trying to figure out who i was and falling flat on my face.
when marcy wasn't quite 1 and i was pregnant with the twins, we lived up in wisconsin. we moved back to southern indiana when the twins were 1 week old to be near family. there's something about having babies that makes you want to be near your momma and grandma and sister and aunts and cousins. my grandma came over to our little house and rocked babies and changed diapers and supervised so i could fit in showers to feel human again. she told me stories of what it was like when she was raising her 4. she was my cheerleader.
my grandma is very sick now. she has lou gehrig's disease. it still doesn't roll of my tongue very easily when i say it. i choke on my words when i talk about her. i even have moments when i'm still angry at God for allowing this to happen.
my grandma is starting to experience pain. she is losing use of her limbs and it is difficult to understand her speech. she needs assistance showering and using the bathroom and blowing her nose. the woman who used to be able to whip up a dinner for 30 without any difficulty now has to have her meals cut up for her. from what i've read, most people with this disease die from respiratory failure. she is becoming increasingly weak but somehow, through God's grace, she is reflecting a strength that blows me away.
i know a lot of strong women. women who run big households. women who run their own businesses. women who run ministries. even women who run marathons. i always hope to learn something from women like that. but i am humbled by and drawn to women who don't run when pain hangs on them like a wet blanket. that's my grandma right now.... facing something very scary with tremendous faith.
a little while back, i was having trouble sleeping through the night so i turned on the tv and watched a pbs documentary. it was about a man in europe who had been diagnosed with lou gehrig's disease. he was choosing the path of assisted suicide before the disease progressed too far. i cried and cried for this guy. he just didn't believe there was any purpose for his existence in midst of all of the suffering.
i had thought about shielding our kiddos from all of this a little bit. wanted to protect them from the pain. in the end, though, i realized i wanted them to understand there was just as much beauty and sacredness in passing from this life as there was in the birth of a brand new baby. i watched mallory yesterday help her great-grandma with her drink and even tried to help her blow her nose. you try to protect yourself from too much pain you also miss out on a lot of sweet things too.
when my grandma's long journey Home is finally over, we'll weep and hug and hold each other tight. i'll be glad that her physical suffering is over but i'll never forget how she responded in faith. there's nothing wasted about passing down that kind of legacy.
i grew up in the same small town as my grandparents. they came to my ball games and were at every great milestone to celebrate. we all went to a little baptist church together. when i was in college and came home on the weekends, i would always sit between my grandma and grandpa during church. it was safe there. and safe places seemed hard to find when i was in my late teens / early 20's trying to figure out who i was and falling flat on my face.
when marcy wasn't quite 1 and i was pregnant with the twins, we lived up in wisconsin. we moved back to southern indiana when the twins were 1 week old to be near family. there's something about having babies that makes you want to be near your momma and grandma and sister and aunts and cousins. my grandma came over to our little house and rocked babies and changed diapers and supervised so i could fit in showers to feel human again. she told me stories of what it was like when she was raising her 4. she was my cheerleader.
my grandma is very sick now. she has lou gehrig's disease. it still doesn't roll of my tongue very easily when i say it. i choke on my words when i talk about her. i even have moments when i'm still angry at God for allowing this to happen.
my grandma is starting to experience pain. she is losing use of her limbs and it is difficult to understand her speech. she needs assistance showering and using the bathroom and blowing her nose. the woman who used to be able to whip up a dinner for 30 without any difficulty now has to have her meals cut up for her. from what i've read, most people with this disease die from respiratory failure. she is becoming increasingly weak but somehow, through God's grace, she is reflecting a strength that blows me away.
i know a lot of strong women. women who run big households. women who run their own businesses. women who run ministries. even women who run marathons. i always hope to learn something from women like that. but i am humbled by and drawn to women who don't run when pain hangs on them like a wet blanket. that's my grandma right now.... facing something very scary with tremendous faith.
a little while back, i was having trouble sleeping through the night so i turned on the tv and watched a pbs documentary. it was about a man in europe who had been diagnosed with lou gehrig's disease. he was choosing the path of assisted suicide before the disease progressed too far. i cried and cried for this guy. he just didn't believe there was any purpose for his existence in midst of all of the suffering.
i had thought about shielding our kiddos from all of this a little bit. wanted to protect them from the pain. in the end, though, i realized i wanted them to understand there was just as much beauty and sacredness in passing from this life as there was in the birth of a brand new baby. i watched mallory yesterday help her great-grandma with her drink and even tried to help her blow her nose. you try to protect yourself from too much pain you also miss out on a lot of sweet things too.
when my grandma's long journey Home is finally over, we'll weep and hug and hold each other tight. i'll be glad that her physical suffering is over but i'll never forget how she responded in faith. there's nothing wasted about passing down that kind of legacy.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
nine
today my baby girl, mandy, turns 9 years old.
9 is such a great age.
at 9 you still get excited about popsicles and going to the library and water painting and picking your own clothes out for the day. your old enough to pack your school lunch and a backpack for a day at the pool but not too old to sit on momma's lap and cuddle.
today in the van, mandy informed me of the hierarchy of "jobs" in her 2nd grade class. i had no idea that "pet care" (caring for tom and jerry, the class turtles) is the job to have. or that "clean up crew" was a rather disappointing assignment. who knew caring for turtles was to be coveted? that's my daughter's world these days.
so many thoughts go through your head on your kid's birthday. mandy was hands down our easiest baby and toddler. she entered into a household full of life and activity before she even spent her first night there. she has been overly mothered by her big sisters and mercilessly antagonized by her brother. (he used to autograph his name in pen on baby dolls' foreheads).
mandy has also been hands down our kiddo who has required our most energy and focus up to this point. one of my favorite stories of mandy occurred when she was 3. j had just bought a brand new digital camera to take on a trip to myanmar. mandy and i were the only ones at home one day and, as i was in our back bedroom, i could hear something popping in the kitchen. as i walked in the room, i saw smoke and flames coming out of the microwave. it was the new digital camera. i was speechless. i did my best to explain to her that we don't put stuff in the microwave and turn it on (she had seen us do that a thousand times so why couldn't she do it?) she had a bit of a learning curve as she did the same thing with our checkbook a few weeks later.
mandy is a unique mixture. she is always on the move, rarely the quiet one in a group of kids, and still hasn't grasped the concept of personal space. mandy has an incredible work ethic and is the first one to volunteer for a job. she would gladly give you the shoes off her feet if you needed them but views rules more as suggestions than absolutes. her height is that of someone grades beyond her and she's passionate about basketball. she is creative and musical and not afraid to be on a stage.
one of the best things about mandy is that she has been one of my greatest teachers. when it was time for mandy to enter kindergarten, we watched our carefree wildflower become a child consumed with fear, anxiety, angry outbursts, and ocd tendencies. as parents we did all we knew to do - pray, seek counsel, get counsel for her, change her diet, change her school, change her schedule, change our parenting style. we struggled, we cried, we fought, we prayed and, at moments, came to the end of ourselves.
i have a dear friend who is the parent of adult kids. she tells me if i want parenting advice just go to a first-time parent of a 2-year-old. they know it all. i chuckle at that because i was that parent so quick to give advice to others. in the beginning, i really believed there was a formula to follow - just read all of the dobson books and pay the price that good parenting requires. my children are teaching me that it is so much more about God writing His story in their lives than my stellar parenting strategies.
this year mandy was tested due to reading difficulties. i knew she was falling behind. i knew it was hard for her. and it was hard for me at our case conference to hear the words "she qualifies for special education services". that wasn't part of the story that i wanted written for my daughter's life. once again, i am reminded that it is not my story but His.
i have seen my daughter shine this year at school. so many puzzle pieces have fallen into place in understanding how she processes things. that's why she is one of my best teachers - she is teaching me not to judge by a season but rather by the journey.
truth is, sometimes i think my ego gets wrapped up in how "well" my children are doing. i don't know how many "latest/greatest" conversations i've got pulled into with other moms - like somehow we'll get extra points at the end of the day for spending our saturdays at our kids' 3 soccer games, 1 piano recital, 2 birthday parties, and their advance placement test for middle school physics. don't get me wrong, i'm proud of my kids. (one of them scored a goal at their soccer game last night and i felt like doing the moonwalk right there on the sidelines!) i want to be the best God-honoring momma i can be. i just need to get to the point where i realize that they're on loan to me for a while and see them fully as trophies of His grace.
so, happy birthday, my sweet mandy girl. let's see what God is up to this year.
9 is such a great age.
at 9 you still get excited about popsicles and going to the library and water painting and picking your own clothes out for the day. your old enough to pack your school lunch and a backpack for a day at the pool but not too old to sit on momma's lap and cuddle.
today in the van, mandy informed me of the hierarchy of "jobs" in her 2nd grade class. i had no idea that "pet care" (caring for tom and jerry, the class turtles) is the job to have. or that "clean up crew" was a rather disappointing assignment. who knew caring for turtles was to be coveted? that's my daughter's world these days.
so many thoughts go through your head on your kid's birthday. mandy was hands down our easiest baby and toddler. she entered into a household full of life and activity before she even spent her first night there. she has been overly mothered by her big sisters and mercilessly antagonized by her brother. (he used to autograph his name in pen on baby dolls' foreheads).
mandy has also been hands down our kiddo who has required our most energy and focus up to this point. one of my favorite stories of mandy occurred when she was 3. j had just bought a brand new digital camera to take on a trip to myanmar. mandy and i were the only ones at home one day and, as i was in our back bedroom, i could hear something popping in the kitchen. as i walked in the room, i saw smoke and flames coming out of the microwave. it was the new digital camera. i was speechless. i did my best to explain to her that we don't put stuff in the microwave and turn it on (she had seen us do that a thousand times so why couldn't she do it?) she had a bit of a learning curve as she did the same thing with our checkbook a few weeks later.
mandy is a unique mixture. she is always on the move, rarely the quiet one in a group of kids, and still hasn't grasped the concept of personal space. mandy has an incredible work ethic and is the first one to volunteer for a job. she would gladly give you the shoes off her feet if you needed them but views rules more as suggestions than absolutes. her height is that of someone grades beyond her and she's passionate about basketball. she is creative and musical and not afraid to be on a stage.
one of the best things about mandy is that she has been one of my greatest teachers. when it was time for mandy to enter kindergarten, we watched our carefree wildflower become a child consumed with fear, anxiety, angry outbursts, and ocd tendencies. as parents we did all we knew to do - pray, seek counsel, get counsel for her, change her diet, change her school, change her schedule, change our parenting style. we struggled, we cried, we fought, we prayed and, at moments, came to the end of ourselves.
i have a dear friend who is the parent of adult kids. she tells me if i want parenting advice just go to a first-time parent of a 2-year-old. they know it all. i chuckle at that because i was that parent so quick to give advice to others. in the beginning, i really believed there was a formula to follow - just read all of the dobson books and pay the price that good parenting requires. my children are teaching me that it is so much more about God writing His story in their lives than my stellar parenting strategies.
this year mandy was tested due to reading difficulties. i knew she was falling behind. i knew it was hard for her. and it was hard for me at our case conference to hear the words "she qualifies for special education services". that wasn't part of the story that i wanted written for my daughter's life. once again, i am reminded that it is not my story but His.
i have seen my daughter shine this year at school. so many puzzle pieces have fallen into place in understanding how she processes things. that's why she is one of my best teachers - she is teaching me not to judge by a season but rather by the journey.
truth is, sometimes i think my ego gets wrapped up in how "well" my children are doing. i don't know how many "latest/greatest" conversations i've got pulled into with other moms - like somehow we'll get extra points at the end of the day for spending our saturdays at our kids' 3 soccer games, 1 piano recital, 2 birthday parties, and their advance placement test for middle school physics. don't get me wrong, i'm proud of my kids. (one of them scored a goal at their soccer game last night and i felt like doing the moonwalk right there on the sidelines!) i want to be the best God-honoring momma i can be. i just need to get to the point where i realize that they're on loan to me for a while and see them fully as trophies of His grace.
so, happy birthday, my sweet mandy girl. let's see what God is up to this year.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
kitchen table
we got a new addition to the family this weekend.
a new kitchen table. well, not exactly new. some old friends of ours moved to south africa to be missionaries. so they literally sold all that they owned to move there. i mean everything. they were posting items on their facebook page and we saw their kitchen table. i fell in love with it. it's big and sturdy and looks perfect for our family. it looks like a table that's got character. it's got a story. and i love furniture with a story.
however, this has meant that our old kitchen table has been demoted and retired. i placed it outside our back kitchen door for the time being due to lack of a better place to store it. it looks very sad and banged up sitting out there. it looks like a table that's seen its better days. it's another piece of furniture with a story.
we got that little 6 chair table when our little family of 6 was still sitting in booster seats and eating off plastic barney plates and drinking out of sippy cups. now it is covered with spots of nail polish and glitter glue and permanent marker. it's been covered with a table cloth the majority of the time to hide all the hard living it's had to endure. when i flipped the thing over to take it outside, the underneath looked like it had a thousand unknown adventures that mom's of little ones are never aware of.
i thought about all that we've done at that table. there have been endless meals filled with loud conversations, laughter, pouting, and life lessons. there have been hours of homeschooling and endless nights of homework. there was an 18-month stint when matt was 2 and 3 years old we spent teaching him the importance of sitting in a chair and not on the table (i didn't think the boy would ever get it!)
it's been piled full of birthday goodies for slumber parties and held my new recipe experiments for dinner. it's been the dumping spot for mail and backpacks and wet swimsuits and bags of groceries. it's seen a thousand art projects and has had 30 gallons of glue spilt on it (i don't think that's an overexaggeration!) it's where j has paid the bills and gone over the family budget again and again trying to make ends meet for his ever growing family. it's where i've done my Bible study and journaled and dreamed and felt frustrated that my life seemed to be moving so slowly.
i also remember one cold, winter day after i was diagnosed with cancer. i had the laptop on that table doing research about pancreatic cancer. i remember how i laid my head down on that table top and wept as i read about my diagnosis and survival rates.
beauty and pain and joy and disappointment get kind of interwoven in our lives that way.
we broke our new table in the right way last night. we celebrated mandy's 9th birthday. her inaugural meal was kentucky fried chicken (it's what the kid wanted for her birthday dinner!) we ate and blew out candles and had her open her gifts. and i watched her sweet little face beam as each of us went around the table and told mandy what we appreciated about her and ways we have seen her grow this past year. it's one of our smolen family birthday traditions. it made for another memory that i'll lock up and put away.
i guess it's funny to get sentimental about furniture. maybe it's not the furniture but the memories. Lord willing, this table will see us through freshman year and turning 16 and graduation and paying college tuition and who to date (more importantly, who not to date). there will be lots of conversations about making wise choices and transitions and losses and life.
i love furniture with a story.
a new kitchen table. well, not exactly new. some old friends of ours moved to south africa to be missionaries. so they literally sold all that they owned to move there. i mean everything. they were posting items on their facebook page and we saw their kitchen table. i fell in love with it. it's big and sturdy and looks perfect for our family. it looks like a table that's got character. it's got a story. and i love furniture with a story.
however, this has meant that our old kitchen table has been demoted and retired. i placed it outside our back kitchen door for the time being due to lack of a better place to store it. it looks very sad and banged up sitting out there. it looks like a table that's seen its better days. it's another piece of furniture with a story.
we got that little 6 chair table when our little family of 6 was still sitting in booster seats and eating off plastic barney plates and drinking out of sippy cups. now it is covered with spots of nail polish and glitter glue and permanent marker. it's been covered with a table cloth the majority of the time to hide all the hard living it's had to endure. when i flipped the thing over to take it outside, the underneath looked like it had a thousand unknown adventures that mom's of little ones are never aware of.
i thought about all that we've done at that table. there have been endless meals filled with loud conversations, laughter, pouting, and life lessons. there have been hours of homeschooling and endless nights of homework. there was an 18-month stint when matt was 2 and 3 years old we spent teaching him the importance of sitting in a chair and not on the table (i didn't think the boy would ever get it!)
it's been piled full of birthday goodies for slumber parties and held my new recipe experiments for dinner. it's been the dumping spot for mail and backpacks and wet swimsuits and bags of groceries. it's seen a thousand art projects and has had 30 gallons of glue spilt on it (i don't think that's an overexaggeration!) it's where j has paid the bills and gone over the family budget again and again trying to make ends meet for his ever growing family. it's where i've done my Bible study and journaled and dreamed and felt frustrated that my life seemed to be moving so slowly.
i also remember one cold, winter day after i was diagnosed with cancer. i had the laptop on that table doing research about pancreatic cancer. i remember how i laid my head down on that table top and wept as i read about my diagnosis and survival rates.
beauty and pain and joy and disappointment get kind of interwoven in our lives that way.
we broke our new table in the right way last night. we celebrated mandy's 9th birthday. her inaugural meal was kentucky fried chicken (it's what the kid wanted for her birthday dinner!) we ate and blew out candles and had her open her gifts. and i watched her sweet little face beam as each of us went around the table and told mandy what we appreciated about her and ways we have seen her grow this past year. it's one of our smolen family birthday traditions. it made for another memory that i'll lock up and put away.
i guess it's funny to get sentimental about furniture. maybe it's not the furniture but the memories. Lord willing, this table will see us through freshman year and turning 16 and graduation and paying college tuition and who to date (more importantly, who not to date). there will be lots of conversations about making wise choices and transitions and losses and life.
i love furniture with a story.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
momma bear
i had one of those "moments" this past weekend. an ugly moment, i might add. didn't see it coming.
we headed up to purdue to visit jeff's family and watch the purdue football season opener. j, the kids, and i were joined at the game by j's sister, brother-in-law and the majority of their kiddos.
we were sitting in the stands watching the halftime show. it was 9/11 (which still feels like a kick in the stomach everytime that day rolls around) and the band was performing a special presentation in remembrance of those who lost their lives. there was a moment of silence and as things really quieted down a man yelled at my son to take his hat off.
it was very quiet in the stands. the man's voice was very loud. my son felt very small.
i, like most, agree that it is a sign of respect to take your hat off. matt was sitting away from me in the middle of his siblings and cousins and had he been next to me i would've gently nudged him to take the hat off.
however, as i looked over at my son i could see him melting. embarrassment, tears, and head hung low.
and inside me rose a horrible anger. everything inside of me wanted to turn around to that man and go off on him like a ninja monkey. no "what would Jesus do" kinda thinking. no rationale left in that head of mine. it was overtaken with a protective nature that i can't quite explain.
after the half-time show was over, i turned around to the man and asked him to explain to my son why he had yelled at him (i have to confess there was definitely an edginess to my tone). he was taken aback but to his credit, he did speak to him. i wanted him to recognize that he had spoken harshly to a kid and that his words mattered and made an impact.
matt was still crushed and ended up leaving the game with his uncle and aunt. anger was boiling over me. i had about 20 different conversations in my head of all the things i wanted to say to this man....but i didn't. j could feel the heat coming off of me. you could've fried an egg on my forehead. momma bear had been stirred. as the game went on, the anger slipped away and i was left wondering what in world that huge wave of emotions was about.
i'm glad i didn't go off on the guy because i would be regretting it now. but i don't think that man taught my boy much about respect that day
i'm also glad i love that way.
i'm not perfect in the way i love the people in my life. i've watched relationships fall to the side due to simple neglect on my part. i can leave others feeling devalued and unheard. i can be so wrapped up in "me" that i don't look others in the eye when they're talking to me... you know that half-hearted "i'm here but i'm not engaged in what you're sharing and that's why my eyes are sort of glazed over" kind of conversation.
however, in my better moments, i know there are people i'd take a bullet for in a heartbeat. relationships that stir a deep passion in me.
love can be a fierce thing.
we headed up to purdue to visit jeff's family and watch the purdue football season opener. j, the kids, and i were joined at the game by j's sister, brother-in-law and the majority of their kiddos.
we were sitting in the stands watching the halftime show. it was 9/11 (which still feels like a kick in the stomach everytime that day rolls around) and the band was performing a special presentation in remembrance of those who lost their lives. there was a moment of silence and as things really quieted down a man yelled at my son to take his hat off.
it was very quiet in the stands. the man's voice was very loud. my son felt very small.
i, like most, agree that it is a sign of respect to take your hat off. matt was sitting away from me in the middle of his siblings and cousins and had he been next to me i would've gently nudged him to take the hat off.
however, as i looked over at my son i could see him melting. embarrassment, tears, and head hung low.
and inside me rose a horrible anger. everything inside of me wanted to turn around to that man and go off on him like a ninja monkey. no "what would Jesus do" kinda thinking. no rationale left in that head of mine. it was overtaken with a protective nature that i can't quite explain.
after the half-time show was over, i turned around to the man and asked him to explain to my son why he had yelled at him (i have to confess there was definitely an edginess to my tone). he was taken aback but to his credit, he did speak to him. i wanted him to recognize that he had spoken harshly to a kid and that his words mattered and made an impact.
matt was still crushed and ended up leaving the game with his uncle and aunt. anger was boiling over me. i had about 20 different conversations in my head of all the things i wanted to say to this man....but i didn't. j could feel the heat coming off of me. you could've fried an egg on my forehead. momma bear had been stirred. as the game went on, the anger slipped away and i was left wondering what in world that huge wave of emotions was about.
i'm glad i didn't go off on the guy because i would be regretting it now. but i don't think that man taught my boy much about respect that day
i'm also glad i love that way.
i'm not perfect in the way i love the people in my life. i've watched relationships fall to the side due to simple neglect on my part. i can leave others feeling devalued and unheard. i can be so wrapped up in "me" that i don't look others in the eye when they're talking to me... you know that half-hearted "i'm here but i'm not engaged in what you're sharing and that's why my eyes are sort of glazed over" kind of conversation.
however, in my better moments, i know there are people i'd take a bullet for in a heartbeat. relationships that stir a deep passion in me.
love can be a fierce thing.
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