Why am I a Mother?

This being Mother's Day and all, I have been thinking about why I am a mother. Well, that and the fact that I was awake at 6 a.m. for no apparent reason at all with nothing to do but think.

So anyway, why am I a mom? Maybe because I have no other marketable skills. Perhaps I didn't want to go on to college. Was I raised in a home that taught me that 'good women' were wives and mothers? Who knows. All I do know is that from my earliest recollections, all I ever wanted to be was a mommy.

I loved my mom. I mean really l.o.v.e.d. my mom! She was always there to do the 'mom' stuff. She made the meals, she helped with homework, she drove us to and picked us up from school (in the towns where we lived that didn't have bussing), she was a MOM. She took her job seriously. She wasn't constantly looking for that elusive something that would fulfill her. She didn't treat mothering as something she had to do until we were old enough that she could get back to doing what she really wanted to do.

And yet, she did enrich her mind. She read a lot and on car trips, she would read the funny parts out loud. I liked that. When I was in fifth grade she took an accounting class and I recall being so impressed that she was learning that. She always had a great circle of friends and even made friends anywhere she went (or even talking to the telephone operator during a wrong number situation once. I believe her example of warmth and humor to others greatly impacted me.

So, that is what I wanted to be. I wanted to be a mom. I wanted to make a home and take care of my family. Boy, I had no clue how that idea would bloom into the crazy family I have now! I envisioned a quiet little family like the one I grew up in. Mine couldn't be further from that now.

Oh sure, it started out pretty simple. First our beautiful son was born. What a joy! I knew I wanted more children but I so enjoyed him that the four years flew by before we had our second child; our beautiful daughter. Such a juxtaposition was her birth. She was everything I wanted; a daughter who was amazing in every way. She completed our family. She was sweet-tempered and everything should've been perfect. It would've, had it not been for the 18 months of post-partum depression coupled with Rick quitting his secure job of 11 years to buy our first business. My lovely dream of motherhood collided with the harsh world of stress.

When things finally evened out five years later, we knew we were supposed to adopt a daughter from Russia. So we did and that snowballed into three more international adoptions. Of course, we didn't bring home perfect little bouncing baby bundles of joy. No, we brought home children between the ages of 19 months and 5 years, three with varying degrees of physical issues (missing limb, needing craniotomy and genetic stiffening of the joints) and bless his heart, the last one being the brother of one of the others. They were not 'bouncing baby' anythings...but they were perfect for our family.

My mothering took on an entirely different tone. No longer were my days filled with the simple things like making meals and going to the park. Now we were teaching litte ones how to live in a family and speak English. Medical issues sucked cash faster than we could make it sometimes. The emotional fallout of living in an Eastern European orphanage had to be dealt with daily.

This was nowhere near what I had ever dreamed of when I wanted to be a mom. And yet, I cannot imagine it any other way. I would have been bored silly with two 'average' kids. I love the fact that not only have I been able to be Mommy to our biological children, but also to our children who needed a second chance. What a blessing!

Maybe this sounds silly to you, but I feel like perhaps I've done a little good in the world. Not really for just my kids, but for some other kids who may have benefitted in the school system because I stomped in and asked the teachers and administration to educate themselves on children who have been raised with early childhood trauma. I know there have been other children adopted because I got the opportunity to speak about our own experiences. It's been an arduous journey for us. It's not been easy by any stretch but I liken it to digging a well by hand. It takes a long, long time and you get sore and dirty and want to give up a million times, but when it's done and you can see the fresh water being pumped out and quenching the thirst of others, you know it was worth all the hard work.

I'm quite satisfied that my childhood wish to be 'just a mom' has come true. I'm blessed to have all six of my unique and perfect (for me!) children plus a wonderful daughter-in-law. I want all of my children to follow a path that leads to their own personal happiness and I hope that my daughters will want to be moms. It is my great hope that they will see the importance of raising the next generation with strength and moral conviction...and humor and grace. There is not much applause in the daily tasks of making lunches and tying shoes or later on taking the swimsuit needed for the away meet up to the school in the nick of time. But let me tell you this, there is a deep, deep satisfaction in seeing your children being respectful, sincere, hardworking, kind, generous and able to love the Lord, themselves and others. For me, that is the big payoff.

Happy Mother's Day to my own mom, Paula Jacks, who set the example I wanted to follow, and to my wonderfully patient and accepting of a mouthy young girl who took over her son's life mother-in-law, Karen Tate. I love you both!

Balancing Act

A Balancing Act

Do you find yourself running like a maniac during the day? I do. Do you find that you are working so hard to be organized that you’ve run out of time to enjoy life? I have. Do you find that you are so intent on making sure things are done correctly that you are making everyone else in the family miserable in the process? Oh boy, I am.
I find myself failing at these specific things each day and I am frustrated. Why? It is good to be busy, right? It’s good to be organized, right? It’s good to do things correctly, right? Well, sure, to an extent all of those things are good. But when my focus is on the running and the organizing and the correctness of everything, I have lost my way. God didn’t call me to be a City Planner or a CEO or a task master. He called me to be a mom.
Yes, yes…I know what you are saying. Being a mom involves ALL of those duties; running like crazy, organizing and doing things correctly. I know. But it’s so much more than that. Being a mom is about teaching through example how to accomplish those tasks. It’s about knowing your little people and what is going on in their hearts and in their day. It’s about spending time being happy with them even if the ‘things’ of the day aren’t done or perfect. (Jill…are you listening? Hello? Jill? ) For some, this is a monumental task. Ok, fine. For me this is a monumental task.
Possibly it has to do with the size of my family and number of businesses we own. There IS a lot to do in a day. And truly, can I tell the accountant or the bank, “Gee, sorry about the overdraft. I will do my bookwork later. I’m enjoying the kids this week!” Well, of course not. (though I’d love to!) There has to be a balance. Striking that balance is what I find difficult.
Maybe you are a little like me. I put off all fun things until the ‘un-fun’ things are done. I don’t go for a walk until I have done my bookwork, laundry, errands, menus, grocery shopping, food prep., etc. This means I rarely get to go for a walk. I don’t commit to hanging out with a friend because I know I will have work to do and if I don’t get it done right away it will pile up and then it will become unmanageable! Well, at least that’s how it feels to me. This means I rarely get to hang out with friends. I don’t want to burden my parents/older kids with the littles so I don’t ask for sitters unless I really must. This means I mostly get sitters for the ‘un-fun’ things. Then I begin to be an unhappy camper. And you know what they say: If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy!
So I go back to the Bible and see what God has to say about my current dilemma. I know that God is not a God of chaos. I know He is a God of order and peace. I want order and peace!! Proverbs 17:1 says, “Better a dry crust with peace and quiet than a house full of feasting with strife.”
Ok, I get it. Basically it’s better to have Pizza Rolls and a happy home than a standing rib roast with 4 amazing side dishes and a cranky mother. So I’m going to work on re-aligning my priorities with His; striking a balance between the nuts and bolts of the day and being the mom I should be. How about you? Do you need to lighten up too? If so, then join me in memorizing Proverbs 17:1. God IS the God of peace!
So now I wonder, does that ‘crust’ have to be homemade? Oh boy…

I'm Really Not A People Person

I think that I am.  I thought that I was.  But I am apparently not.  A people person that is...

I love people.  Don't get me wrong.  People are good...mostly.  When I am in a group, I really enjoy myself.  I'm relatively entertaining and I love to meet new people.  My problem seems to be maintaining deep relationships.  I am finding that I don't really want to share....myself....my time...even my stuff now and then.  Maybe I've been taken advantage of too many times.  Maybe I've had expectations that are just too high.  Maybe I've expected to get back what I give....and haven't.  Oh this blog has become such a downer! 

So, let's back up.  I was an extremely shy child.  I liked home.  I liked my mom.  I did not like school or Brownies (WHO makes a small child glue cotton onto paper???  It's impossible and I hate the way cotton feels!) or summer camp or new schools or not getting my own way (if you ask my older sister).  But regardless, we moved a lot and I was tossed into new school after new school where I developed humor as a coping mechanisim.  I learned to approach others (despite almost paralyzing fear) and start a conversation because if I didn't, nobody was going to talk to me; they already HAD friends.  I needed friends.  It became a skill...almost a detachment of my true self.

Now I find that I am still adept at making new friends and I'm really pretty good at customer service.  But I am not comfortable with maintaining relationships.  I don't have much of a track record with that particular skill.  With such a big and busy family, I don't have much time for other relationships so I probably use that as my excuse to not make the time.  I'm thankful for a couple of friends who continue to touch base with me so I don't completely fade away.  They ask me to do things and every time I can say YES I am so happy that I did.  But, truth be told, I feel really nervous to say yes.  Why?  I'm 43 years old??? 

Is it the guilt of going and having a fun dinner with a friend when my husband is at home with the kids after a long hard day at work?  Is it that I feel I should spend my time with him since we don't get much time together?  Or am I really just inclined to be a hermit?

Most likely, a mixture of all of the above.  Stir in the fact that I'm not good at playing the 'social' games and I really don't want to join in.  I like straight forward, real communication.  I don't do well ignoring the fact that a person is cheating on their spouse or is in dire financial trouble and yet continuing to live above their means.  I wish I could just gloss it over....not care about it....let it go!  I work on it.

My sister has the most amazing group of friends.  Her social calendar is always full and that looks so appealing to me.  Then again, she has 2 kids and I have 4 still at home.  It's not a cop out...it makes a difference.  But you know what?  I am so blessed that she has shared her friends with me!  What a great sister she is :)  I LOVE...I mean L.O.V.E visiting her and getting to hang with her and her friends.  That is one of the most amazing things about my sister...she always shares everything that she has...but I digress.

My dad is a little hermit-ish.  Perhaps I have come by it honestly.  Regardless, I find it hard to balance the intense demands of a busy family (with kids who's needs are slightly above average....to say the least) with friendships that are deeply satisfying.

Even when I have a day without a lot of scheduled activity, I find that what I want to do is read or write or take photographs.  None of those activities seem to require anyone but myself. 

Maybe when the kids are grown and gone I will feel the need to spend more time with friends.  Maybe.

Put Down the Tattoo Gun, Mom

Wow.  Now we've heard about all kinds of parents who do all kinds of off-kilter stuff to their kids, but this Mom-of-the-Year candidate really takes the cake!

Jo-Jo Marsh apparently tattooed six of her seven children.  She did tattoo the 10 year old but, in a burst of rare parental clarity, deemed the seven year old too young to be tatted.  The design these unfortunate offspring are marked for life with is an X that Jo-Jo wants to pass off as a cross.  Seriously, Jo-Jo?  Why a cross?  Is a cross tattoo going to somehow improve the perception of your tattooed 10 year old?

"Mommy!  Look at that boy!  He has an X tattooed on his hand!  He must be a biker or a gangster!"

"Honey, that's not an X, that's a cross.  He's obviously a nice boy!  You don't have anything to be afraid of."

One might question why on Earth a parent would tat up their children.  Well, Jo-Jo certainly has an answer for that query:  the children were BEGGING for tattoos like hers.  There you have it!  Makes total sense to me.  If a child BEGS for something, give it to them.  It won't be long until we see the Marsh/Bartels children smoking cigs and sipping Wild Turkey if it strikes their fancy.  Surely there is no value in weighing the merits of an activity and whether it is suitable for children or not.  If their kids BEG, they get!  My own children wish they were so lucky, I'm sure.

Ms. Marsh claims she did not know it was illegal to tattoo a child in the state of Georgia.  Her response to the question regarding her knowledge of the law was, and I quote: "Oh God no, that's why I was tripping so hard, that's why I was so upset."  Should we, at the very least, take some solace in that when confronted with the facts of the illegality of children being tattooed in the state of Georgia she had the decency to 'trip hard'?  Nah, I didn't think so either. 

Granted, I thought this woman was a kook from the get go.  One does not go about inflicting painful permanent markings upon small children unless they are under the influence of mind-altering substances or perhaps victims of some disorder found in the DSM-IV. 

But it gets better...or worse, as the case may be.  See, we aren't talking about Kat Von D here.  Jo-Jo isn't some upscale tattoo parlor owning celeb who, in true Brittney Spears fashion, tattooed up her children. That would be horrific enough.   No, Jo-Jo fashioned her very own homemade tattoo gun using a guitar string as a needle.  Does that make your head swim, or what?! 

The kiddos were removed from the home when the parents were arrested for child endangerment and cruelty to children, but they have been returned by the Department of Family and Children Services now that the parents are out on bond.  WHAT?!  This woman has yet to even pretend that she's sorry or comprehend how her actions were inappropriate!  She repeatedly defends herself with lame excuses such as:
1. "We didn't even break the skin barely"
2.  "they are very tiny, just through a few layers, on the top, they will fade away, that's how minuscule this is."
3.  She changed the needle each time
4.  As the children's guardian, she should have the right to tattoo them if she chooses.
5.  "Shouldn't I have say so over what goes on in my child's life?  I have custody of my child, I'm not going to hurt my child."

None of those statements indicate that she thinks she did anything wrong and yet, those children are placed back in the home with her.  Astounding!  She's not going to hurt her child?  I have a tattoo that I got at a real tattoo parlor with a real tattoo gun and it hurt!  I can't imagine a child getting a tattoo with a guitar string needle not thinking it hurt.  This woman is a LOON!

Those children need to be taken out of the home and Jo-Jo needs some serious help.  Children aren't toys.  I bet as a child all of Jo-Jo's dolls had their hair cut and were all markered up with faux tattoos.  What do you think?

Ahhh..here we are to 2010.  A shiney new year to begin anew all the things we slacked on last year.  While a new  year isn't exactly a big do-over, it is a nice clean slate to start with. 

Last year I found myself all wound up ALL the time about things I had no control over.  I missed out on a lot of joy because I chose to be frustrated and mad.  I plan to do better on that front this year.

I've been thinking about what will be my New Year's Resolution this year.  I'm not going to resolve to lose weight or work out more or not yell at bad drivers.  Been there, failed at that.  Besides, those are really just temporal things.  Does it make me a better person if I weigh 20 lbs. less or 40 lbs. more?  Am I a better human if I can run a mile in 6 minutes and my biceps look like I'm flexing even when I'm not?  Oh maybe, but not to the extent that I want to be a better human.

A couple of areas that could use a little work have been on my mind lately.  I'll take a risk and share them with you here.  Now you will all know when I'm failing miserably!  Then again, maybe I'm not alone in my failue in these areas. 

Firstly, I want to love my kids for who they are and let them fail. (gasp!  fail??)  That sounds trite...sappy...easy.  For me it's not.  I know you will all be SO surprised to hear this, but I tend to have high expectations for my children. No, really, it's true.  I'm hard on them.  I have ADD myself and have to have a pretty strict guidelines for myself.  I impose those guidelines on my children.  I forget that they are children.  I don't allow them to try and fail.  In my quest to help them succeed, I am actually handicapping them!  And why, you might ask?  Because it's EASIER FOR ME!  Yep.  That is the sad truth.  It's easier for me to keep track of things if I control it all.  tsk tsk tsk...  So, this year I am going to make it my mission to STEP BACK and let my children have a little more room to breathe.  I'll let them make more noise in the house; at least I'll try.  I'll let them play their Nintendo DS's and the Wii more often and make them study a little less.  It doesn't seem to have helped and has seemed to create a boy who will do ANYTHING to evade studying.  Can we all say counterproductive?  I'm totally working against myself and in the process, I've created a less than happy atmosphere in the home.  2010 is the year I love my children for the unique, quirky little people that they are even if they fail and I could've have saved them from it if they had just done things MY way!

Secondly, I was challenged by a sermon by our Youth Pastor last week.  He asked the question: Who would you be if you lost everything; your possessions, your support, your loved ones, your status, your livelihood...everything?  Would I be whiney and angry and mad that God had allowed such things to happen to me?  Well, sadly, yes.  I've already been that person.  Oh, I haven't lost EVERYTHING.  But a few years ago, I did lose most of my support system.  Through an odd and complicated set of circumstances, several years ago, just when I THOUGHT I needed them most, my network of friends said 'adios!'  I was shocked and stunned.  Then I was MAD.  Mad at them.  Mad at everyone else.  Mad at God.  I couldn't understand why God would 'take' all my friends away at the very time I really needed them.  We had just adopted our first (adopted) child and it was a stressful time.  I felt alone and adrift.  God had not abandoned me and yet I totally turned on Him.  This oh-so-attractive state of my being continued for several years, I am ashamed to admit.  I don't really recall what turned things around, but I eventually came to my senses, made peace with God (tearfully on my knees) and reconciled with my friends.  So, as you can see, my track record ain't great and I only lost one little part of my comfy world that time.  I need to seriously bolster my core...my heart....my spirit.  My aim is to be the person who, if all is lost, can say as Job did, "I came into this world with nothing and I will leave with nothing.  Praise God anyway" (paraphrase mine)  I am trying to be conscious of my thoughts and attitudes towards my 'people and things'.  I know that they aren't really MINE...they are His.  I know this.  However, when I contemplate giving up my 'perceived' ownership of them (mostly my people), my heart beats fast and I can't fathom it.  I need His help with this.  I will seek His strength and wisdom and peace.  My legs are pretty shakey at this right now.  I feel like the child who is too scared to walk into kindergarten for the first time.  I want to hang onto His leg and hide my face.  I am afraid I can't do it and I am scared to try.  It is my goal that by the end of the year I am skipping through the door to class by myself.  Then maybe next year I'll graduate to another grade and keep on growing.  That's the goal at least.

So, there you have it.  The allocution of my failings and my resolution to improve in 2010.  I'm looking forward to a good year; not an easy year, but a good year.  Easy doesn't always equate to good, does it? 

Cheers!

Jill

Snow Days and Memories of Eastern Europe

Here it is 7:40 on a Tuesday morning in December and I am enjoying a cup of coffee, a delish muffin made by my daughter last night to give me a break from cooking breakfast this morning and a SILENT house.  All of this made possible by a snow day!  Yes, the forcast of 6-12 inches and 50 mph gusts by this afternoon have prompted the public schools to call off school for today.  When the kids wake up, they are going to be so excited!  Our district rarely cancels school so this is, indeed, a rare treat.

Right now the snow is coming down steadily.  In Nebraska the weather most often happens horizontally.  Due to an extreme and unfortunate lack of forestation in our fair state, the wind blows all the time.  Rain and snow come down sideways.  Not today, though.  The snow is falling straight down; silently.  This, coupled with the fact that it's just beginning to get light outside take me back to the day I left Sofia, Bulgaria with our son Christian.  It was snowing hard that day, too. 

It had already begun to snow when I awoke that morning and continued as a five-year-old Christian and I ate breakfast, washed up and packed our belongings into our luggage for our long journey home.  I was exhausted and he was.....I don't know what he was.  In a state of shock, maybe?  Scared witless?  Confused beyond belief?  All of the above.  When we were basically ready to go I turned on the little 12" television for him to watch cartoons and I sat at the little table in our flat and watched the snow out our 3rd floor window.

The snow always has a way of making everything seem so quiet and buffered and it had certainly done so with the noisy city of Sofia.  There didn't appear to be any fewer people walking to work or whereever they were off to, but they seemed to be moving with the 'mute' button on.  Our flat had a little balcony with a black iron railing and the snow had begun to pile up on it.  As I sat there the stack of snow got higher and higher and higher.  I began to wonder if our plane would leave and felt a little panicky.  Christian and I had not had the smoothest of bonding times thus far and I was really anxious to get home and have the support of our family.

Thankfully, we were finally picked up and taken to the airport and our plane did actually leave Bulgaria.  It was when we got to Warsaw, Poland to change planes that all the trouble began but that's an entirely different blog.

Days like this, where the snow falls silently but abundantly always take me back to my last day in Sofia with Christian.  To be perfectly honest, it's not really a happy memory, nor an unhappy memory; just a very strong memory. 

Which brings me to another strong memory.  This I mentioned on Facebook last week.  Was it last week?  Perhaps the week before.  I'm losing track.  Anyway, I mentioned how I'd been at the Post Office and parked beside a diesel truck and when I got out the cold air and the smell of the diesel fuel immediately made me cry.  I wanted to expand on that a little bit and I will try, although I'm not altogether positive I can explain it.

When we travelled to Russia, Rick and I flew through Frankfort, Germany in November.  The airports in Europe are not always like ours here in the United States.  In Germany (both in Frankfort and Munich), Vienna, Czech Republic, Poland and Russia they did not pull the aircraft up to a jetway and allow the passengers to walk in relative comfort and warmth into the terminal.  In all of those places, a set of steps was brought up to the airplane door and we walked down onto the tarmac and then into the terminal.  Rain, snow, dark of night; nothing kept us from our appointed trip across the tarmac.  We were like the US Postal Service. (note:  carrying a baby, an umbrella stroller and a backpack in the hard snow will get you waved up to the front of the line!)

Out on the tarmac there are all those little vehicles that pull open-sided wagons with luggage to and from the airplanes.  They always remind me of toys and I've always thought my boys would enjoy that particular profession of driving them.  There are fuel trucks that come and refuel the airplanes and the big trucks that bring the meals out to the planes.  Most of these vehicles are diesel; especially in Europe.  So the smell of diesel fuel coupled with COLD air always brings back strong memories of my adoption travels.

The strongest memory isn't even very well remembered.  I just sort of remember that Rick and I were sitting in the Frankfort airport (in blue plastic seats and there weren't very many people in our area and it seemed that all of them were from other countries than either the U.S. or Germany and most of them were reading newspapers that were oddly small and of interesting colors like pink and green and blue) and it was dark outside.  We were heading to Russia to pick up Ana and this was the only trip he took with me.  While we were waiting, forever it seemed, we watched all these little diesel vehicles zipping around.  Because it was so dark and we were inside looking through a wall of windows, I couldn't really see where they were going or what exactly they were doing but the smell of diesel was so strong it was almost overwhelming and it was COLD.

And then later in our trip, riding in the small Russian-made Lada car through the streets of Moscow.  Rick's knees were up to his ears since he didn't fit too well in the car.  Moscow was surely not designed to support the vast number of vehicles on the roadways now and they are a nightmare to say the least.  The transport trucks (what we would call a semi, only they were smaller and shaped differently) and the military vehicles were just tall enough for their exhaust pipe to direct the noxious fumes directly into our car windows.  Overwhelming diesel smell and COLD air.

And later on yet, after 27 hours on the Trans-Siberian Railway we arrived in Ekaterinburg.  Instead of the train pulling up to a platform so we could disembark, it simply stopped.  We got out with our luggage (which included two huge boxes of coats, hat, gloves, etc. for the orphanage and a joy to carry!) and walked across 4 more sets of tracks....in the dark....and the cold...with the overwhelming smell of diesel fuel.

So, I guess I'm not exactly sure what it is about the smell of diesel fuel in the cold air that makes me cry.  Our trip wasn't bad at all.  In fact, it was wonderful!  Rick was with me ( I went to Bulgaria solo five times) and we brought home our beautiful daughter, Ana.  But, I guess it was stressful.  Rick had never travelled out of the country before and he was a little shell-shocked.  The culture is vastly different from our own and of course, the language barrier is incredibly isolating.  I think it's just all of it.  All of those crazy strong emotions of excitement, fear, confusion, love, adventure, missing the kids at home, etc. all rolled up into the smell of diesel fuel in the cold air.  It makes me cry every time.

Well, my little nirvana has ended.  Kids are up, Rick is sitting on the couch beside me and talking on the phone (could he not find somewhere else to do this?) and the day has begun.  Guess I'll go outside and shovel up some of that beautiful snow.

NUDGE!!

A few Sundays ago in church, our pastor said that the most common thing he sees is the 'elbow nudge'.  You know, when you hear something and you nudge your husband or wife or child sitting beside you because THEY really need to pay attention to what was just said?  Of course, in reality, it was probably us who really needed to be listening instead of applying nuggets of truth to others.  At least that's how it is for me.

Today I was listening to one of my favorite songs and singing REALLY loudly in the car.  I sing loudly because what I lack in talent I make up in volume.  I was thinking of my friend who is going through a particularly nasty divorce from a particularly nasty man.  She is a beautiful and kind person who loves and accepts people and this song I was singing along with was making me think of her and how it could lift her spirits and help her to remember that no matter what has happened, we are loved by God. 

Then as I sang one part of the song that I've sung a thousand and ten times before, it happened.  NUDGE!  "Apply those words to YOURSELF".

Oh.  ok.  So I did.  Then the tears started.  I needed to apply those words to myself.  I have been feeling a bit off-kilter lately.  There have been big changes in our world this year.  Our oldest child got married.  The next one is finishing up high school in December and will move into an apartment early next year.  We bought a second business a year and a half ago.  Maybe those don't seem daunting to anyone else, but they FEEL so to me.

When I was younger mom I felt so confident in my ability and decisions.  I suppose that was because the kids were young and their problems were more controllable, maybe?  They weren't quite to life-altering.  Or at least I didn't think they were.  Now with the older kids I don't know anything!  I don't know how to advise them and when I do, I get all muddled up in "should I say how I'd do it or try to think of how it would be best for them to do it?".  I feel like I don't do any of it well. 

I have a new daughter-in-law.  I don't know how to be a mother-in-law.  I love her.  No doubt about that.  But I don't know her very well.  After all, my son dated her, I didn't.  I'm not exactly sure how to go about getting to know her or what she expects from our relationship.  I was a very young bride and I lived in the town where my husband grew up where none of my family lived.  I wonder if she feels the way I did?  I have a great relationship with my son but I have pulled back so I don't step on toes.  But...I still step on toes it seems.

My oldest daughter is leaving the nest soon.  I am immensely proud of her and am fully behind her stretching her wings but I hate to see her go.  She was my last baby.  Everyone who came after her was not born to me. She's just a special girl and I like having her around.  I know!  Selfish.  I can admit that.

Lately, I've been questioning all my choices and decisions.  Should we have adopted four children?  Did we short-change our first two?  Did they get pushed to the side because the others required SO much more of...me?  Do they regret it?  Will they never want to have a big family because they hated living in one?   Was I somehow being self-centered thinking I could save the world?  Could my kids have gone to parents who had more time than I do?  Could they have gotten parents who could have afforded more of the finer things in life?  Did I short-change them too?

With all of my uncertainty swirling around in my heart I focused on the words to the Casting Crowns song:

'I know You've washed me white, turned my darkness into light

I need Your peace to get me through, to get me through this night

I can't live by what I feel, but by the truth Your word reveals

I'm not holding on to You, but You're holding on to me'

I'm not holding on to Him....He's holding on to ME.  What security to know that when I am feeling so adrift, I'm not really adrift because He is holding on to me.  Who knows if the decisions I've made have been the right ones.  I made the best decisions I could at the time.  Sure, I feel uncertain and like a big fat failure a lot, but I can't live by what I feel.  I have to live by the truth. 

And the truth is, I am loved.  I need to live as if I am loved.  My mistakes; I am trying to learn from them.  My sins; they are cast as far as the East is from the West.  I am shaped by them but not defined by them.  I am forgiven and I am loved. 

I needed that nudge today.