In Which I am Medicating with Bowls of Ice Cream

These days are dragging heavy.  The end-of-semester stress weighs wearily on us all.  Big change looms dauntingly just beyond the bend, its to-do list piling ever long.  I find my shoulders sagging.  Negativity tumbles from mouth.

It's one thing and then the next.  All the dailies of mommyhood seem more than I can shoulder.  Why will you not SLEEP when it's nap time?  For the love, will you pleeease pee in the potty now, we've got to get in the car.  And if I hear one more "But, Mom..."  I reach for another bowl of Dreyers Chocolate Mint Cookie.     

My thankful list?  It's been collecting dust.  No time, no time.  Always someone needing, needing.  No time to pen a thought to paper.  I'll just think thankful thoughts, right?  Funny how that works.  How the spiral downward swirls stronger, all my gifts becoming blurs.

Maybe no one needs anything more than for me to stop and give thanks.  To find myself again in him.  

The gifts?  They are all around.  If I'll just bring the blur into focus, I'll see the joy again.

- The look on my husband's face as he melts in the moment, his baby son asleep on his shoulder.

- Ducks pattering by on their morning stroll.  The mama squeaking softly to her fuzzies.  She sounds like a rickety tricycle, the whole lot of them moving as one to the rhythm of her voice.  Mamas set the tone, no?  

- Gasping in wonder at the length of my daughter.  Me?  I'm mommy to babies and toddlers.  Where did this big kid come from?

- My head on my husband's chest, "Your turn to hoist me up, Love." Marriage is for this.

- Anticipating joys to come.  Another semester for the books.  Family wedding.  Cousins reuniting.

- My kiddos twirling, whirling to city street beats.  Them and a pack of unabashed kids.  Breaking bedtimes, wild and free, reminding us all that in life, you just need to dance.

 

A Bit of What Life Looks Like Here and Now

The baby finally rolled over into his "I'm really asleep" position.  I closed the door softly, whisked kisses on the older kids, and out the door you and I ran, breathing loud "thank you's" to the babysitter.  "Call if you need anything!" (But really, please don't!)

We scarfed down some appetizers, called it a meal, and made it to the movie in time.  The theater (gasp!      Remember those?) was nearly empty.  We found ourseats and grasped our hands.  And for a moment, we remembered.  Life before all this.  Just the two of us.  Before caked on crumbs coated the table.  Before sleep was a luxury and not a human right.  Before we had found ourselves and known our dreams.  

But now we're in the thick of it all.  Here it's messy and loud and exhausting.  And it's also quite glorious.

There's the son who is itching to open your presents, the daughter who is drooling proud over your birthday cake, and the baby who sits chummy in your lap.  And as you all huff and puff the candles out, I burst with the love of the here and now.
 

Writing for five minutes, unedited on the writing prompt "Here" with Five-Minute Fridays

  

Dreams Really Do Grow Real

Have you ever had an idea breeze into your head, like a puff of cool crisp air on a hot muggy day?  Suddenly, your heart is beating faster, your brain synapses firing rapidly.  You lose sense of time as this idea scaffolds itself inside you.   You think of little else for days.  Something whispers through the caverns of your soul, "This.  You are meant for THIS."

This happened to me last June.  An idea flared up in my heart, my passion ignited.  My instinct was to plow straight into it, make it happen.  But I hadn't the foggiest clue of how.  And the whispers were saying, "Wait.  Let this roll around in prayer for a good while."
 
So I let the idea sit.  And as I feared, it did grow a bit stagnant, lost in the whirlwind of three little ones.  That was okay, though, because I am meant for THIS too, for them, for my babies, always.  

But the dream never flamed out.  Flickering in the background, the conviction grew.  And when the pastor preached, "What's that one thing?  That thing you know God wants you to do?"  I didn't have to wonder what my one thing was.

Come December, without known rhyme or reason, my heart announced to itself, like Ricky Ricardo announcing to the world, "Zee time has come!"  Proposals were written, emails were sent.

Have you ever sat watching your inbox, click...click...waiting...waiting for your dream to live or die?  Hate that.

But then, the responses started coming...

"LOVE this!"

"We were just talking about a need for this."

"The heart and vision are spot on."

"Take the lead!"

And I started hyperventilating in a happy dance.

Then shortly thereafter, all the fears started flooding in, all the "I'm-not-enough-for-this"thoughts.  They went something like this, "Uh, I can't even keep my children bathed.  Who do I think I am to tackle something like this??"

These thoughts are still coming, daily even.  But I am learning to counter them with truth.  The truth that this idea didn't come from me, that it's bigger than me, that I'm merely meant to take one obedient, fearless step in front of the other.

So I took another step, having no idea the magnitude of this step.  I sent another email to connect with people who I thought could help make this dream happen.  I reached high, hoping for the best of the best, but truly expecting... a polite blow-off.  Instead I got an immediate response...

"I cannot tell you how moved I am."

"What you are describing is so near to our hearts."

"We absolutely see the deep need for this."

And they shared their story.  And my heart burst.  They get it.  They really, truly get it.  They are exactly everything I need.  Where I feel deficient and clueless, they are competent and experienced.  AND they've already been talking and networking about this very dream, long before it ever blew into my head.

I'd say they are an answer to prayer, but I didn't even pray that big.

Suddenly, this dream seems very real.  I feel very much like I'm stepping into ordained waters.

I'm beyond excited for when I can unfurl the dream to you.  Until then, could you, would you, pray for this??  So much still to come together, but here's to moving forward...fearless!

 

Ellie's Birth Story

Our tuk-tuk rumbled through the streets of Chiang Mai, Thailand, pulling to a stop in front of our guesthouse.  I heaved myself out of the back seat.  I paused to inhale the scent of the flowering vines basking in the moonlight.  Slowly, I willed myself up each wooden step to our bungalow on stilts.  I didn’t know how much longer I could stand it.

Every day for weeks, we’d been waiting, hoping, longing for the big day.  At eight days past her due date, having tried every labor-inducing trick in the book, I didn’t know how much wait I had left in me.  My arms ached to hold my baby girl.  We were returning from our appointment that night where the doctor told us, “I think it will be soon.”  I could hardly muster up any more hope.

I awoke at 4 a.m., with the now familiar twinges of pain.  Having never done this before, I didn’t know if I could call them contractions or not.  But on this night, finally, blessedly, these twinges kept coming.  That’s when hope flamed alive and my heart knew this was it.  I told Aaron, “We’re going to have a baby today!”  “Are you sure?” he asked, hesitant to believe that all the waiting had come to an end.  “Yep, I’m sure” I replied.

There was no panic, all the questions and fears that had surrounded me for the last nine months quieted.  In their place was an overwhelming, peaceful readiness to do this, to cross the threshold into motherhood.

With contractions still six minutes apart, we decided to distract ourselves with a game of monopoly on the computer.  The florescent light buzzed above us, the wooden plank walls echoing the sounds of geckos outside.  After a while, I rolled the birthing ball into the shower, where I let the water run soothing trails down my back as I envisioned the moments to come.

Then I knocked next door to let my mom know it would soon be time to go to the hospital.  Seeing the big smile on my face, she didn’t know whether to believe me.  It was too early for taxis to be out, so we called the British manager of our guesthouse, who was just getting ready to take his kids to school.  He said that this would be an ok excuse for them to be late for school.

So Aaron and I, my mom and her step-sister, the manager and his two kids all piled into their car.  Our huge birthing ball was in the front seat, nearly blocking half of the driver’s view. The two kids sat in the back giggling. The older one said to his sister in his crisp British accent, “This is not a laughing matter!” They quieted down and we drove through Chiang Mai. I watched the Thai streets come life in the morning light, knowing I would forever remember this ride.  I breathed deep and full, the strength of the contractions rising.  We arrived at the hospital around 7:30am.

At the hospital entrance, the little Thai doorman helped us in and said, “Good luck!” They wheeled me to the emergency room. A man from the reception area came to me and said, “You have pregnancy?” I looked down at my bulging belly, and thought, “You have got to be kidding me.” But I calmly responded, “Yes, I have pregnancy. I need to go to labor and delivery on the second floor.”

His next question was “You have contractions?”
 “Yes! I need to go to the second floor!”
“What time you have contractions?”

For a moment I thought I was going to have to go climb the stairs myself. Somehow, we finally convinced him to wheel me to the elevator and take us to the second floor.

They checked me in and found that I was already dilated 7-8 cm and 100% effaced. We called our labor coach and told her she’d better come fast. They monitored the contractions and the baby for a short while. I was still feeling pretty good, smiling and posing for pictures.

Our labor coach arrived, and the contractions began to get more intense. I stayed out of the bed most of the time. Sitting on the birthing ball seemed my best position. Aaron was an incredible support. I was amazed at the emotional and physical strength I received from his presence, his touch.

I reached 10cm, and it was time to push. The problem was, just as my contractions should have been at their strongest, they started to get weaker. I kept waiting for that “oh-so-wonderful-urge-to-push” that all the labor books had described. Only it never came.  I tried some pushing, but it was extremely difficult without the urge to push. This went on more than an hour and a half, the Thai nurses humming in unison through every push, my mom there cheering me on.  But little seemed to be happening.  Finally, I heard my labor coach say, “We need to get that baby out.”

It was then that something clicked inside me.  No more waiting for my body to do this.  I realized that I was going to have to make this happen.  Reaching deep down to the strength that says, “I will do this for my child,” I began to push with every fiber of my being. Moments later, at 11:46 a.m., through searing, life-giving pain, my baby girl emerged into the world.

She was bluish grey, and nothing in my entire life had ever mattered as much as knowing right then in that moment, if my baby was ok.  They placed her slippery warm body on my chest.  I was holding my daughter!

With a bit of oxygen and suction she pinked up quickly.  She lay quiet, her bright eyes taking in the world for the very first time.  Then she tested her lungs with a healthy cry.  She immediately found comfort in nursing.  The act of life-giving continued.  I grasped her close, pressing these first moments forever in my heart.

It wasn’t until later, when the nurse lifted her off my chest, that I saw a sticky brown goo coating me.  I had been so lost in the wonder of her that I never noticed her pooping all over me.
 
She received a round of “oooh’s” and “aahh’s” when she measured in at 9lb. 9oz., 21.5in,  and a 14cm head. The doctor declared her to be perfect. I lay on the bed while my doctor repaired me, watching over as the doctors and nurses examined her and gave her two shots. It was when the shots went in and she cried out that my own tears began to flow. I knew then that my heart now laid on that little wheeled bed next to me.  Her pain was my pain. All I wanted to do was hold and cherish and protect my little girl.

I snuggled her bundled body close to me and breathed a long exhale.  She had finally arrived. I had experienced the miracle of birth, and now I had the most priceless treasure, a daughter.  The awe overwhelmed me.

Daughter, you have been gifted to us by the God who created you in depths of my womb, and we will never stop thanking Him.  Know that always and forever, no matter what, we love you all the way up to the sun and the moon and the stars.

Happy 5th Birthday, Ellie!  

Coming Clean About Our Disney Secret

So we have this little secret.  Something we've been keeping quiet because we feel oddly embarrassed and guilty about it.  I guess I shouldn't say "we."  I feel embarrassed and guilty about it.  My husband is not nearly so concerned with what people might possibly think.  I'm the one telling him not to post the pictures and videos to facebook.

Here's my hang up.  You all know our line of work.  And people in our line of work have this reputation/expectation for, you know, suffering.

So I didn't want everyone knowing.  About Disneyland.  About how we go there ... every week.

There. I said it.

It's true. We do, in fact, as a family go play at Disneyland once a week.

And Disneyland is sort of the opposite of suffering.  It's sort of crazy extravagant.  And when your line of work depends on the generosity of others, you just don't do crazy extravagant things.  Except, perhaps, when God plops something in your lap.

You see, we had been trying to figure out how to tell our children, that, yes, we are living 15 minutes from Disneyland for two whole years, but, sorry, you're not ever going there.

Then some people gifted us with a generous sum of money with specific instructions that it be used for something special and extravagant, not daily and practical.  So we bought Disney's cheapest annual passes and are now able to spend a half-day there about once a week.

And as someone who was not a big Disney fan, nor huge lover of amusement parks, I have to admit that I absolutely adore our Disney time.  Yes, we do realize that it may be completely distorting our children's expectations for life from here on out.  But we've decided to embrace the gift we've been given.  It is our family happy place.  It's our time to be together, to put aside the worries of the week and just enjoy.

Because it's become a part of our routine, the kids don't wig out with the overwhelmingness that is "Disney for the first time."  There's no pressure to fit it all in, because, of course, we'll be back next week.

We spend nearly nothing while we're there, since we pull out our slightly-smashed PBJ's from the bottom of the backpack, along with some apple slices, and call that dinner.  Aaron and I get in our weekly power walking.  My two year old is learning what it is to wait your turn.    My baby is content to sleep and go in the Ergo.  And my daughter, she is learning to grow courageous.  A year and a half ago she was terrified to tears of a carousel, seriously.  Now she rides some of the fastest rides there are, proudly declaring afterwards, "I was soo brave!"

Then there are the parades.  Oh, the parades.  Truly, they are magical.  Ellie and Aiden stand at the curb, bouncing and dancing with glee.  Every single time, at some point in the parade, they wrap their arms around each other in the lovey, dovey spell that the parade casts on them.  Aaron and I stand behind them and exchange that look that parents do when they are delighting in their children's delight.

So there's our secret, we have Disney passes.  Since it is a big part of our life right now, we want to be able to share it.  We thought we'd give some context to the pictures, so people don't misunderstand and think we're livin' large here in So Cal.  There are still the three part-time jobs, the one car, the no cable TV or smart phones, the pennies pinched, all sacrifices that are more than worth it to make a dream real.

But here in the midst of the "doing without" there is this crazy extravagant Disney gift we have, the memories we are making, and the bonding that it brings.

To those givers of this gift, you know who you are. We are ever so grateful.

My One Word for 2013

Having "One Word" for 2012 changed me, forever, I hope.  So I have known creeping into this new year that I needed another word.  If I'm honest, I'll admit I've known for some time now what my new word is, but I kept denying it, pushing it down, hoping, hoping a different one would come to me.

Because you see, I'm afraid.  And that's kind of the point.

My One Word for 2013 is....Fearless.

Source: x72.xanga.com via Danielle on Pinterest

As I told my husband, when I look to the year ahead (which I do often), I have a lot of fears.  "Yeah, you do," he chuckled.  He knows me well.

Here they are, my fears for the year:

    I fear the goodbyes that are to come, the pain of them, of letting go.

    I fear the sorting, selling, giving, trashing, cleaning, buying, weighing that goes into fitting our lives
    into nine 50 lb suitcases.

    I fear how my children will adjust back to China.

    I fear how I will adjust back to China.

    I fear how long it will take for it to feel like home again.

    I fear that my fear will rob me of the joy that could be mine.  (Brilliant, I know, fearing fear.)

    I fear that this dream that burns in my belly may never become real.

    I fear the starting over....again.

    I fear that in all of this, I won't be the wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend that I should be.

    I fear that if I claim Fearless as my word, that God is going to call my bluff, and stretch me into
    fearful things.


These are but a few of my fears this year.

So how does one become fearless while feeling all fearful?

First, I think I've got to understand what I even mean by "fearless."  It's not a grit-your-teeth-and-do-it-even-though-you're-afraid fearless.  I've been there and done that, and found that's not fearless at all.  I can force myself to do brave things, while inwardly being crippled with worry and anxiety.

I'm talking about knowing deep down and full well the perfect love that casts out fear.

I'm talking about knowing that my worst fears could come true, that something might actually be just as bad or worse than I fear, and ultimately... that would be ok, because God would still be good and God can still make all things good.  

And somehow being ok with the very worst scenario brings a peaceful fearlessness.  At least, that's what I'm learning.  I am SO not yet there.  But I'm on this journey.

All my life I've wanted to escape pain and trial and failure.  But there is no life without these.  And if I spend my life fearing these, I am, in fact, losing my life.

I love that so often in Scripture, when God has something for someone to do, he prefaces it with, "Fear not."  And the how?  He says that too, "I am WITH you."  Always.  No matter what.  That's perfect love.

That's what calms my bones and quiets my mind.

This year?  It could be better than all I ever hoped or dreamed.  Or...it could be harder than I ever imagined.  But I will walk step by daily step. And because of the perfect love that is mine, I will be...FEARLESS.

The Best Thing I Ever Did in 2012 (besides make a baby)

On January 2, 2012, I started something I'd never done before. Inspired by Ann Voskamp's book, “One Thousand Gifts,” I began writing out a list of gifts that I'm thankful for. The goal? To make it a daily practice so as to have a list of “one thousand gifts” by the end of the year. Honestly, I kind of expected this to go the way of all my other New Year's resolutions and peter out somewhere near the end of January.

But here's what happened instead. The more gifts I penned down, the more I wanted to do it. It's like eating homemade guacamole. Once you start, you gotta keep going back for another dip and another dip. Only instead of ending up with that bloated shouldn't-have-done-that feeling, I felt an overwhelming sense of wholeness and satisfaction, an awareness of completeness. Now, when I miss a day (or two or three), I feel a sense of loss. Because I've surely missed some gifts, and now they're gone into the abyss of my forgetfulness, passed by without a whispered “thank you for this.”

But the gifts that I do capture onto paper, they have become my treasure. On this, the last day of 2012, I penned down my one thousandth gift.  It reached the bottom of my fifty-third page.  Before all this, if you had told me I'd type anywhere near fifty pages of anything this year, I'd have laughed, out loud. Ain't nobody got time for that! But turns out I did, with just a few minutes each day.

It is my thank offering to the Giver of all these gifts. And as the Giver does, he gave back beyond my expectations. This list has become a journal of sorts, a record of our year, a remembrance of all the little things that have touched me deeply and made 2012 what it was. So as a recap of our year, here is a smattering of excerpts from my one thousand gifts.

4. The silkiest softness of my son's white blond hair. Jan 2

10. The longing of hearts apart. Aaron in Thailand for three weeks of classes, my heart missing him with a longing that hurts. Jan 2

38. Ellie still asking for her bedtime song to be “Hark the Haver Angels Sing.” Jan 4

60. A gift in the mail, precious people wanting to tangibly show that they believe in what we're doing. Jan 10

95. Aiden toddling along outside, soaking in the world, when suddenly, urgently he turns back to me and shouts, “Mama! Kiss!” My heart is a puddle on the ground. I bend to touch lips to his puckered fish mouth. Jan 30

107. Aaron: “Come here, birthday girl.” Ellie: “You can call me 'Princess.'” Feb 12

113. A short night, a long week ahead, meeting my love in the kitchen for a soothing embrace. Feb 13

167. Swelling with new life. Baby bump for all to see. March 13

196. A fro-yo date with my daughter. April 2

212. A husband who knows when not to go the extra mile in his homework so he can be there for his family. April 20

228. Making birthday cake art for my two year old, him shouting in delight, ““Beeball! Bootball! Babeeball!” April 26

276. My truly gorgeous sister, radiant as a bride. June 8

291. There was no confusion that first night of big boy bed-ness. No, “Hey, I belong in my baby bed.” Just pure confidence that he had entered big kid-dom. When I went to cradle and coo my nightly song to him, he shushed me with an emphatic finger over his mouth as if to say “I don't need that baby stuff now.” June 13

342. Our family on two chairs, snuggled under a blanket watching the sky light up with American celebration. July 4

439. Ellie spooning ice cream into her brother's eagerly waiting mouth. Aug 7

441. My children's endless enthrallment with sand and waves. Aug 7

453. An empty baby bed next to mine, just waiting to be filled. Aug 13

478. The moment I grasp my slippery new son to my skin. Aug 16.

484. The shocking tininess of a newborn diaper. Aug 16

496. Each day the bond growing stronger.  This little one that was unknown, becoming known. Aug 19

499. Friends and family around us, graciously giving and serving. Aug 19

532. How Aiden says “mamich” for “sandwich.” Sept 2

575. Dinner on the edge of the sea, celebrating 8 years of this soul bonded life. Sept 18

594. Hearing my grandma's last words to me, “I love you.”

672. A husband that took care of the 4am sickness while I slept through Oct 16

692. Hearing the story of our Chinese friend. The father who threatened to disown her and the mother who threatened suicide if she was baptized, are now paying for her seminary study in America. Oct. 20

774. Flying round and round on spinning swings with my daughter, our arms outstretched, heads thrown back, shouting wild and fearless and free. Nov 12

814. Kissing my baby's pillow-plump cheeks, him giggling with glee. Dec 1

 925.  When Mary and Joseph enter the stage, cradling the baby in their arms, Ellie whispers as loud as can be, “I WANT TO SEE BABY JESUS' FACE!” People all around chuckle.  May you never, ever lose that desire, baby girl, to see Jesus' face. Dec 24

929.  The first Christmas with my family in 9 whole years.  Dec 25

956.  Ellie: “Daddy’s always joking me. It dangs me crazy.” Dec 27

985.  Reflecting on the goodnesses of this year, and feeling that my eyes are more opened, my heart more tender for all the gifts, both sweet and hard that will come in the year ahead. Dec 31

1000.  Penning down my one thousandth gift and knowing I have only just begun.  Dec 31

And now I say a whispered “thank you” to YOU, dear ones, for being among my one thousand gifts. Thank you for journeying alongside me this year.  Thanks for letting me speak a bit of my life and heart to you.  Love and blessings to each of you.  Happy New Year!    

(3 Things about this pic:  1.  Yes, that background is for real.  2.  Sorry you don't get to see Titus' face 3.  Yes, Aiden is trying to make me eat my own hair.)