Y'all need Jesus. And Costco.

I love Costco.  It’s no great secret.  I love their cakes, I love their pot pies, I love their 500 count boxes of fruit snacks.  Good things come from the land of Costco.  I also love Jesus.  And I think He would love Costco.  In fact, I think the love and salvation Jesus offers is a lot like Costco. Hang on; follow me down this rabbit hole, won’t you?

Costco has great prices already.  And yet, they send you coupons each month.  Coupons, people.  Do you know how much I love a good deal?  It’s mind boggling.  My dad jokes that I will try to pay for my funeral with a coupon.  He’s not wrong.  So, you can imagine my excitement of mail day when the Costco coupons roll in.  It’s a very good day. 

Last month, I was sitting down, flipping through the brochure and I noticed something that surprised me.  Cascade dish pods were on sale.  I had just bought them the Friday before so I was kind of bummed.   But, then, I was reading the fine print and I realized something; Costco had already given me the deal.  And yes, it said it right there, “Instant Savings, No coupon needed”. 

People, this is life changing information.  Costco said, don’t worry about fussing with bringing anything to our store.  We’ve got you.  They said, we know that your mind is cluttered with nonsense, but we care about you as a customer, we want you to experience the savings just like everyone else.

Oh, my friends.  That is just like Jesus.  God calls us to a higher purpose.  And all that He asks is that we show up. He doesn’t require us to remember a coupon book, or a membership card.  He’s got us.  All we have to do is say YES.  Yes, we want to be a member of that great big box store in the sky.  Yes, we want to experience the benefits of belonging to a family that looks out for each other and offers a lifetime of “saving”, if you will.  Jesus is the way, the truth and the life, and He doesn’t even make you bring a coupon.  That’s right, y’all, He might even be better than Costco. 

But, there better be cake in Heaven. 

A green paint kinda day

This morning Charlotte found an old wooden bird house that we had been given as a gift.  It came with its own set of paint and paintbrush, and bless her, she carried that brush around all day.  She must have asked me a hundred times if it was time to paint yet.  You see, having another crafter in the house is all new to me.  For the most part, the boys could care less.  So, this birdhouse has probably lived with us for several years just waiting for an artist to claim it, and claim it she did. 

Finally, as I realized that the day was slipping away from us, I pulled out the newspaper and helped her get to painting.  I didn’t pay much attention to what she was doing, as the boys were watching a movie and I was trying to be in two places at once.  But, eventually she declared that she was done.  Now, I could rave about her art skills, but she’s two and I’m not a very reliable judge.  Safe to say, it’s a masterpiece to me, and a “nailed it” to the rest of the pinterest loving world, haha. 

It wasn’t until I was in the bathroom helping her wash her hands that I  saw the  real masterpiece.  You see, her hands were covered in green paint.  Yet, there was no green in the set-only red, blue, and yellow.  She had taken what I had given her and she made it better.  I think that is such a beautiful metaphor for motherhood.  I’m always so proud of the gifts that I see in my children.  And I love when I see a trait or a characteristic that I recognize as coming from me or their father.  But, truly, what a gift to see them possess something that is a beauty all their own. 

Yep, I didn’t give her green paint.  But, she found a way to make it on her own.  I hope her life is 

filled with green paint moments and that I’m around to hang them up on my virtual refrigerator.  

I guess this is why you have two parents...

We took the kiddos up to Water Country on Monday. We made our usual loop around the park before arriving at everyone's favorite destination, Hubba Hubba Highway (long lazy river with lots of fun water spraying "obstacles"). I had Charlotte while Matt played tag and chase with the boys. I was careful to shield her from the water sprayers, weaving from side to side to avoid anything that seemed like it might upset her or be dangerous. We had fun and each time we would come around the loop, she would say, "Sprayers" and duck her head into my chest. I was so proud of her and so happy she'd learned to avoid the water.

About halfway through, Matt and I traded places and I moved up to be with the boys. We continued to play and mostly, I tried to keep up. After a few minutes, I decided to make my way back a few steps and wait for Matt and Char. Eventually, I saw them coming. Actually, I heard them coming. Matt had picked C up and was holding her up so that she could "high five" the sprayers. And, she was loving every minute of it. They also made their way through the "dangerous" row of dumping coconuts by laughing at the splashes they made in the water.

And as I stood there, in the middle of Water Country with hundreds of people passing by me, I felt my breath catch. I was teaching Charlotte how to be safe, how to stay alive in dangerous situations. But, Matt, well, Matt was teaching her how to live.

You take the good, you take the bad....I hope you're now singing The Facts of Life.

I love to lay next to Charlotte as she's falling asleep at night. I love to watch her as the day slips away and peace overtakes her beautiful face. I am always overcome. She is my daughter. My family. And her brothers. They are the legacy I ached for, the healing balm on my wounds of years past. But, here's the thing. They are mine when they're beautiful and they're mine when they're slightly less so. If they're mine when they're peaceful, they must be mine when they're mouthing off and when they're running through the Dollar Tree pretending to ride a parrot balloon. We belong to each other. The good, the bad and the ugly. 

Maybe that's what I want my children to know, most of all. That it's easy to claim someone when times are good. But, when all the chips are down. (Like, literally, when they've pulled all the chips down off of the shelves at Target) that's when you must be able to say, Yes, she is mine. I'm here for her.  

Family shows up. 

More to the story...

The world is a scary place. 

Add in the heart of a mother and it's downright terrifying. 

I battle with anxiety. Sometimes I take meds for it. Sometimes I grit my teeth and cry. But, no matter what the solution, it is always a struggle. 

I also suffer from panic attacks. They are like anxiety's BFF that you never really liked, but can't seem to ditch. And, they always pay a visit at the worst time possible. 

Like, when you're standing in the checkout line at Walmart. And, oh, perhaps your daughter has wandered about ten feet away and you're trying to put stuff up on the conveyor belt and keep an eye on her and make sure to catch the cashier so that he can price match an item before it's too late. Yep, that was me yesterday. 

It was all too much. I started to sweat. I could feel the voices start up in my head...

"She's too far away. Someone could just come by and grab her and be gone. You'd never be able to catch them. You can barely even jog. And, then some stranger would have your baby and it would all be your fault."

But, Char really wasn't too far away. She was really only testing her wings. And, I want her to have fun. I don't want to put my crazy on to her. I don't want her to live in fear. So, I told the voices to pipe down. But, they never do...

"That's fine. But, any minute now, someone could walk right up and then she's gone forever. And, God only knows what they would do to her..."

I was almost in tears. But, then a friendly looking couple with an older son walked up behind me. A stranger between us was enough to send Charlotte scampering back to my side. We struck up a conversation. Mostly about babies with no hair and the Princess's pants. Ruffles are always a good conversation starter. And, I began to relax. 

Then, just as we were leaving, the lady spoke up, "Wait, you forgot her nightlight."

Oh no, I replied. She was just playing with that to keep her occupied. 

"Could I buy it for her? I'd love to but something girly and something for such a cute little lady."

There are no words to describe how greatly my heart was moved. Here I am, imagining the monsters of the world and God sends me an angel. 

Take that, voices. 

Thirty minutes of wonderful...

This past week, I was sick. The kind of sick where you moan to friends and family about how you might die and think that possibly no one in the history of anyone has ever felt so sick. But, then, I got better. I did not die. I was not, in fact, as sick as anyone has ever been. 

That always makes me think of my mother. 

Who did die. 

Who was as sick as anyone should ever be. 

 

My mom got sick when I was seven. But, truthfully, she had never been a very healthy person. She struggled with asthma and was just a very sickly child. She didn't marry my dad until she was 29 years old and according to him, she started angling for a baby that very day. She wanted to be a mother more than anything. In some ways, her prayers were answered. I was born on their first wedding anniversary. 

But, it was not uncomplicated. Her doctors told her that she came very close to not being around at all anymore. He mentioned that her pregnancy, my very existence, had taken about ten years off her life. He suggested she not try it again. And, so, she didn't. My dad had a vasectomy and she embraced the life she had with me, her only child. 

My mother was never well. She did not have the kind of disease that you get well from. She had the kind of disease you die from. That is sobering to me. Especially when I've had a few days to experience what it feels like to lay in bed, unable to care for your family. The days after I started to feel better, I just moved and moved and moved. I stayed up late, I got up early. I felt alive. And, with that feeling comes pain. Because I GET to GET well. And my mother didn't. 

But, if it's true. If I did cost her ten years. If my being here made her time here that much shorter. I hope she knows, I am completely determined to make sure that her thirty minutes of wonderful didn't lead to a lifetime of nothing special. I will breathe in and out. I will hug my children. I will bring honor to her name. I will be certain her thirty minutes count. 

.((God, I hope you've seen Steel Magnolias))

Plan A

Lately, I've been seeing lots of commercials for the birth control option called Plan B. I'm sure you've heard of it. Sometimes it's known as it's less friendly sounding nickname, The Morning After Pill. Yep, it's a pill that can be purchased from any drug store without a prescription that may or may not stop a pregnancy from taking hold after there is a failure in your normal birth control method. Now, maybe that's a condom that broke, a pill that was forgotten, an IUD that fell out, or just a lapse in judgement that resulted in no prevention at all. But, there you have it, Plan B. 

Now, for me, this is a very personal subject, as, our oldest child is the result of one failed incident with birth control. One. That's it. That's all it takes. How many times have we heard that said? But, when you're the one living it, it feels very different. 

You see, we knew our predicament. We knew about the failure and we decided to do nothing but wait and see. I was aware of our options and still, we did nothing. I was terrified, but I truly believe we serve a God that has plans far greater than my own. 

All that said, I don't think less of others who have used Plan B. I'm not sure I have ever felt as scared as I did in those few weeks as we waited and wondered. The idea of having a way out sounded pretty darn good, actually. But, somehow, deep down, I just knew it wasn't the right decision and luckily, I was in love with a man who felt the same. I don't even think of it as a case of dealing with the consequences of your action. Ack, consequences. How can anyone call a blessed little baby a consequence? No, I think for me, it was simply a matter of letting the cards fall where they may. And, fall they did...

One "failure" resulted in one great success. He is smart and wickedly funny. He is kind and his compassion takes my breath away. He is athletic and strong. He is exactly what I needed to grow up. He is a reason greater than myself. He is the best of his father and the best of me all put together into one rockstar of a kid. He is 12 years old and man, oh man, let me tell you, our son is living proof that sometimes, Plan A is just what you need in life. Sometimes, Plan A is exactly right.