I'm Jealous of the Babysitter and Other Things to be Thankful For

During the Patriots/Eagles game on Sunday afternoon I commented that I did not want to go to work the following day to which our friend and babysitter Cindy said, "I do!"  At the moment I thought about how jealous I was of her being able to come and spend that time with my little guys, but then I thought some more and realized some things I'd like to share with you...I like my job.  I'm good at it, I care about the people I work with and for.  I'm grateful to God that I have a job, which is something these days.

I actually have two part time jobs, as I've mentioned before, one as a medical social worker for a home care agency in the area, the other as a marriage and family counselor in a local private practice.  I enjoy having my office and seeing clients individually and as couples.  I have a passion for the work and a desire to do it.

I was able to see that I really have the best of both worlds and should be ever grateful for it.  I love my boys and each moment with them is precious.  However, if I need to work, and I must, this is a wonderful situation!  It's a wonderful situation not only because I like my work but also because I am blessed to have a "babysitter" and friend who loves my boys so well and takes such fabulous care of them while I am away.  That she enjoys her time here with them is something that I am also thankful for...she likes her work!

Shout out to Carol at www.wheretheroadgoes.weebly.com who talked to me about the tension between work and home.  When I am at work I'm thinking about home but not always vice versa.  I am not preoccupied to the point of being unproductive, but it's just enough of a preoccupation for me to realize that there is a bit of a tug there.  I'm not sure if it's an overactive sense of responsibility to my children or the home or if I just miss them...maybe a bit of both.  But what I can say in the midst of this struggle is that God gave me work and it is good to have work to do!  I am thankful for the determination and inspiration to do the work that I do, for the desire to do it well and for the opportunities I do have to use my skills in the workplace.

I love being a mom.  I never understood or could have imagined what it would be like to have a sweet little boy look me in the eyes and call me "mom".  This is another role which I feel called to and equipped for; not always well-equipped as the "Trying Twos" are in full swing and requiring much time, energy and thought.  I was blessed with three sons and I will strive to always do what is best for them in the midst of this tension between work and home.  I hope that they see me working hard and using the talents and time I've been given to serve others and in truth to what I believe I was created for or called to do.  Counselor and Mother.      (Or Mother and Counselor).   

I am thankful.  The Patriots won yesterday, Cindy was here today at 7:30 a.m. with a sunny disposition, and I left for work with kisses from all my boys and with a grateful heart that there is good work to be done. 

A Faith that Lives

In response to my previous post a dear friend of mine shared her thoughts and gave me permission to share them here with you.  She said:  "Death brings out compassion and love between family, friends and strangers.  Life isn't on earth, it's with God.  [The runner] served his God while on this earth, now it his time to go home...we celebrate his life.  Through this [the driver] will reach out to God and find a compassionate God to ease his pain and bring understanding to this accident; a God he will hold dear in his life."
She speaks of a redemptive God; God who would bring grace and good from tragedy.  In the midst of the pain, the sadness, the confusion there lives a thing some call faith.  Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance of what we do not see (Hebrews 11:1).  Though I do not see it I have the faith to believe that God mourns with us as we mourn and celebrates with us as well.
I was reminded by another friend of mine today that God in the person of Jesus did Himself mourn the loss of his friend Lazarus, even before He called him out the tomb to live again.  This friend put it beautifully saying, "All we can say (given our finite knowledge) is it [the accident] was an interplay of decisions whose consequences played out. Is this cold and unfeeling? On the surface yes, but it is a starting place where one can begin to deal with it without questioning God's love, goodness or power.  What we must never forget is that God is not sitting on the sidelines, He cares far beyond what we can ever imagine." (See comments on my last post for more).
This was the piece of the puzzle I was missing as I wrote last night. Remembering that we live in an imperfect world where there is sickness, tragedy and death.  When I was diagnosed with cancer in 1991 I didn't think that God "gave" me cancer.  Simply put, there's cancer in the world where I live and I got it.  It would be unfair of me to think God was being punitive and punishing me for some past wrong, or that He was passive in not sparing my family and I the pain of this illness.
So as I continue to contemplate tragedy, grief and God, I return to faith.  A faith that would thank a loving God for His presence in the face of this tragedy and grief; that He would mourn with us and celebrate with us.  Though my eyes cannot see it, my heart believes and I will live this hope, this faith that God does indeed care more deeply than we could ever imagine.


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When Time Stands Still

Days are full of tasks that can either slow or speed the passing of time but when tragedy strikes, time seems to stand still.  We get stuck in that particular time and space.  I'm stuck in Tuesday.

It was a crisp and cool morning, dark until about 7 a.m.  I went to work as usual, as many people did that day. But it wasn't to be an ordinary day.  There was an accident; an accident that would not only change the life of the runner's family, but also the life of a young man driving from work.
I knew the runner and his family from church; a wife and four beautiful children.  We were simply acquaintances but it was just close enough to home to make an impact, close enough for time to stand still.  It's strange, I feel stuck in that moment yet am watching everything speed by around me.
When tragedy comes into your life it requires something of you.  It demands attention and time to meditate on what was lost.  Not only that, but it almost calls for you to reassess your beliefs about life, death, justice, and meaning.
I've been troubled to the core, working to reconcile my belief of an all-powerful and most-loving God in the midst of a senseless loss.  If I believe that God is all-powerful then certainly I believe He could and should stop the car in the middle of a country road before reaching the runner.  If I believe He is a loving God then wouldn't He, shouldn't He spare the husband, the father of four children and at the same time pardon a young man from the guilt of taking the life of another?
As I considered these things I was also forced to admit that I do not believe in a God that would force or impose His will upon anyone, as if we were His subjects or were simply drones-created only to do His bidding.  I was forced then to conclude that if this God I profess to believe in does not move us about like chess pieces then that car on that country road would stay its course according to the will of its driver just as the runner would continue to run there as he always had.  If God did not cause this tragedy, He allowed it.
My very soul cries out.  I maintain a deep belief in a loving God and yet also wonder why such pain must be experienced in this world.  I have come to no conclusions and wrestle with these two aspects of God: the all-powerful and the non-invasive.  But this I know, in the darkest hours of my life, in all of those moments when time stood still in the face of tragedy, grief or loss, I felt the presence of a loving God surround me to hold me up when I could not stand, to calm fears when I was most anxious and to bring peace in the midst of the storm.
Tomorrow is Friday and most of me will be participating in that day yet a part of me is still "stuck" dealing with Tuesday.

Nighty-night

I can't imagine where the last 13 days have gone!  Yes, it has been 13 days since I last wrote and I cannot believe I've stayed away that long!  There are days when I really look forward to sitting down at night to write this.  Sometimes I write and re-write, in my head, what I want to share as I go about my day.  But I honestly cannot even tell you what I've been doing the last 13 days that have kept me from this blog!  My computer was in the "hospital" for a 4 day weekend, so that makes a big difference.  Other than life as a wife, mom, social worker, marriage and family counselor, and newly recruited Avon Representative, I haven't had anything "new" to keep me from writing.
Well here I am, and the good news is all of my boys are in their respective cribs/beds tonight for the first time since we brought the twin babies home from the hospital in March!  There are no babies sleeping in my room tonight!  Yeah!  I am hoping that I will get a solid night's sleep.  Of course my super-sonic mom hearing will be in effect and I will just have to deal with that, but it's different having them in another room...good different.
And so, with the wee ones tucked in their beds and my husband sleeping peacefully beside me I bid you "good-night" and look forward to a few more moments to share with you, at the dawn of a new day!

Self-Care and other Lofty Goals

I woke up with a sore throat and a pressure headache-'tis the season for sinus trouble!  It has been a crazy week with working both of my jobs, preparing for Bobby's birthday party (which was Saturday) and trying to take advantage of the beautiful weather before it's gone!  My boys would be outside every day for hours if they could.  They are so relaxed and content when we go on walks or just sit outside under the big shade tree in our front yard.  They love it.  So, I've made every effort to get them out in it.  Of course, it works for me too because I love the sunshine.
Well, this morning I did not let a little sinus pressure keep me down.  We took our baby boys for their 6-month check-up complete with shots (I didn't cry this time) then came home.  After that "trauma" the babies and I laid down to try and nap but with their sore little legs, their sore gums because they are both teething, and Bobby's refusal to take a decent nap (day 4 and counting) I did not sleep.  I felt worse after TRYING to nap than I had before the attempt.  Ah-well.
The only thing to do at this point was to go for a ride.  We, Pete and I, decided to try and make the most of the outing so he would be doing some school work while we walked.  We would be walking to and from different stores where I needed to return some things as well as pick some things up for the kids.
As I was working to get all the boys fed and ready to head out for our ride I realized it was around 2pm and I hadn't eaten since 8am!  In all the hustle and bustle I forgot myself.  This is not an uncommon occurrence, I must admit.  My boys are typically cleaner, fuller and more well-rested than I am.  I also understand that that is the way it is as a parent, a good parent anyway, that your children's needs come first.  I believe it to be true and have been known to say that one cannot be selfish and be a good spouse or parent.  Though I am not perfect and am at times selfish, I can err on the opposite end of that spectrum as well.  In other words, it is just as important to practice self-care as it is self-denial.
I ate before we left.  And I made sure I ate dinner when we returned, only after the boys had been fed and put to bed.  As I sit here reflecting on this day and the past week or two I realize that I have really put myself and my self-care projects on the back burner.  Things have just gotten so busy (but aren't we always busy?) that I haven't been remembering to exercise or read.  In the last week I have maybe read 5 pages.  Reading was something I just remarked on in a previous post, about how much I am enjoying it, and here I am neglecting it.
I know that it will be important as my boys grow to model for them a well-balanced life and I have some work to do before I can display that.  Today, I find myself having to take another look at my life and to do the work of reorganizing time and priorities.  Another important step for me in this is to bring it to you, to remain accountable for doing what I say I will do.
While I would continue to write this blog whether you were reading it or not, it is certainly meaningful to me to share milestones and memories, my inconsistancies and insights with you.  You, my witness and unspoken partner in this wonderful blooming process.
I am ready to end my day, dealing with the same pressure headache and sore throat I woke up with, but with a deep sense of calm and resolve that I did not have this morning.

Home-made

I'm thinking a lot about my baby brother today.  Jeannine, if you're reading this, God bless you for what you're going through right now.  He is out of the country training with the military and will be gone for a month.  I called him the day before he left and was choked up.  I haven't seen him in months and months and was saying goodbye to him over the phone.  It didn't seem right.  I wanted a hug, a face-to-face conversation.  I missed him more at that moment than I maybe ever have.
I'm finding it more and more difficult as we add to our family and as our children grow, to be away from family. It pulls at my heart in a way that I cannot explain.  I know that Pete and the boys are my family and my first priority.  However, the way I grew up aunts, uncles and cousins were close by to celebrate birthdays, spend weekends with, share meals and make it to events like summer soccer games or music recitals.  In the world I grew up in family was a large number of people that were closely related to you by blood, birth or legal adoption.  In the world I currently live in, family is something that you create, not something you are born into.  We have added to our family not only through the birth of our children but by way of a dog named Molly, and a friend who is honorary "Aunt" to our children and who lives up to the title by taking such good care of them.
These dear additions have not replaced the family geographically distant, but have been added to it.
In the world I grew up in church was an extension of the family as well.  As a child it was hard to get away with anything because you would get in trouble with anyone's parents, not just your own!  I would like that kind of support and stability for my children too.  It was a community that cared for one another and helped to not only meet physical needs but to share, teach and love.  I appreciate the stability of the world I grew up in.  Even though the "world" beyond my hometown was tumultuous, I was held steady by the strength of those around me.
I don't want to mislead anyone into thinking my childhood/formative years were idyllic or free of any trouble.  My 9th year of life was provided with a crash course in complicated grief and dealing with the death of a loved one.  The years brought sickness, car accidents, friends moving away and other things that proved difficult to live through and endure.  However, with family (+the extended family) surrounding me, even the difficult times seemed to be more manageable.
I know that God provides.  I've seen it in my life many times.  So as I sit here contemplating the family I have scattered about the United States (and the world) tonight, I am thankful for a God who knows what is weighing on my heart.  He is with that baby brother of mine when I cannot be (and always is).  He knows my needs before I speak them and understands how to respond better than I know how to ask.  He is the Builder of my family and the Maker of my home.

The Power of Words

We had the pleasure of hosting my parents for a quick few days after they spent some time with their newest grandchild, the beautiful Lillian, in New Jersey.  It is always nice to catch up, share time with them and just to see them enjoy their grandchildren.
Of course the children are our main topic of conversation.  I filled my mom in on all of the amazing things our two-year old (he'll be two on Friday!) can say and do; shared our attempts at beginning potty training (initiated by Bobby himself) and the trials of tummy time for the six-month old twins (they aren't often fond of it).
In the course of this conversation we landed on the topic of dealing with the tantrums that are common with the "trying two's".  I expressed that I am trying to remain calm and patient in the midst of all the challenges of parenting a child through the trying twos.  In the midst of my frustration I do not want to use words that would discourage, belittle or attempt to guilt my little one.  I've written before about my commitment to choosing life-giving words that would inspire and encourage.  (I'm not perfect at this, trust me).
As I reflected on this conversation throughout this past week a memory came to my mind and the thought of it just created a knot in my stomach.  It is a perfect illustration of the power of words.

When I was living in Michigan with my parents years ago, I did a lot of babysitting.  One of the families I babysat for was a combined family of two previously married individuals.  Each had children from previous marriages and they had just added a daughter to the family from their union.  This wife liked to talk.  She talked with me a lot before and after the time I was there to watch the children.  She would talk with me as if we were friends or peers even though we were neither.
When I first started working with this family I would drive up to the house and think, 'what a beautiful house'.  It was a two story house, not too big, not too small, on a quiet street not far from the water.  I thought it was ideal, the location, the wooden porch, the sweet shutters on the windows.  Just so homey.
The husband was a quiet man.  I thought he was handsome and kind.  He seemed to love his wife, and even like her-wanting to be around her, telling her how beautiful/smart/fun she was and listening to what she wanted to do for their nights-out together.
The kids were sweet overall, though they presented their own challenges, especially with parental-imposed rules that excluded sweets from the evening menu and television from the entertainment.  We stayed busy with games, reading and even playing some musical instruments.
Without fail, after each visit, the wife would come in and talk to me at length.  It didn't take me long to notice the negative direction of our conversation.  Not only that, but most of the negativity was directed at her husband.  It did not matter if he was out of the house, in the next room or sitting right in front of us, she had a critical remark for him.  She complained about his memory (or lack-thereof as she perceived it); she complained about how he did the dishes, or if he didn't do them; she commented on his appearance and what he chose to wear on their nights out; she frowned at his attempts to flatter her, and rolled her eyes when he shared an idea.
As I contemplated these memories I realized that over the course of time I too had begun to find fault with this man.  He was too short.  His "sweetness" was kind of annoying.  His tennis shoes made him seem older than he was.  Eventually, I became more annoyed with the children and the wife herself as well.  Soon, I dreaded driving down that bumpy road to that old house with the cracked shutters and wooden porch in desperate need of staining.
In retrospect it seems to me that all of the wife's griping, belittling and complaining about her husband made him seem small and unattractive; it made the environment and actual house uninviting at best.  It is no wonder that just a year or two after I stopped working with them this couple split and divorced.  How tragic, really.  Do I think that it was the power of her words that caused the marriage to break apart?  Not singularly, but I do believe it had a profound effect on the health of that marriage.
It still causes me to have a sinking feeling in my stomach when I think about sitting with her in the kitchen as she looked down her nose at him and uttered a belittling remark, and to remember the defeated look on his face...
I've said before that I had determined NOT to be the wife who complained about her husband to others and I want to add that I also try not to be the wife that complains to and/or at her husband as well.  If I have a concern or frustration (with him or otherwise) I try to present it in the least offensive way.  I don't want him to feel he has to defend himself against me from the word go.  Conversation is productive.  Complaining doesn't accomplish anything.
With her words I believe a wife can encourage her husband to be the best he can be.  I hope that Pete would say that  my support encourages him to be a better man.  Do I always agree with him or feel inspired to be that supportive person?  No, but that's what love does: it builds up, it speaks life.
So, I will endeavor to love my husband well with conversation, praising his strengths, encouraging him in those areas where he struggles and choosing respectful words.


Do you complain to your spouse?  How could criticism be turned into productive conversation?