Category: motherhood

Every Day is Mother’s Day

I can’t imagine a more apropos way to spend time this weekend than watching my oldest child fulfill a wish he has had for a while.  He got to fish in his very first fishing tournament with his Papa.  He’s been fishing for just about as long as he’s been walking, and is finally old enough to enter children’s tournaments.

IMG_2086I was so anxious and excited while waiting for him and his Papa to return to the dock for the weigh-in.  As I saw their boat pull up, I quickly made my way to them with my camera ready.  I was trying to gauge the expression on my dad’s face to see if the caught anything.  My son is quite lucky that his Papa happens to be a retired professional fisherman who is extremely well-known in our area.  My son is also quite fortunate that his Papa lives on the lake, and absolutely loves fishing with his grandson.

IMG_2103I also remember my son’s birth mother asking if we would teach him to fish.  She didn’t know that my dad is an expert on the lake, but I assured her that our son would learn how to fish.  As they docked the boat, I learned that my son only caught one fish – a nice sized Crappie.  Even though it would not win him any money or a trophy, the smile on his face from catching a fish in a tournament and the experience of the day is far more valuable.

IMG_2129Since it was a kid’s fishing tournament, they let the children weigh any type of fish in.  Here is my son telling the emcee of the tournament what he caught the Crappie on. (In case you are wondering, he caught it with a spoon.  For those of you who do not fish, a spoon is a lure, not something you eat with!)  He also told the emcee about his Papa.  The emcee and organizers of the tournament happen to know who his Papa is, but my son told them anyway.

IMG_2142The only prize he won was a give-away of cleaning supplies, and three small bags of baits.  He thought that was pretty awesome.  My daughter, and the baby also seemed to enjoy watching their older brother take part in the adventure of the day.  I even let my daughter dip her toes in the cold lake!IMG_2085photo (62)

You might wonder what this has to do with Mother’s Day.  Well, as I am still trying to figure out this complex thing called parenting, I learn day-by-day that every day is Mother’s Day.  Every moment is one more moment of seeing life through the eyes of my children.  Each joy they get from the simplest things lights my heart up just a bit.  Each accomplishment, each wish come true, and even each disappointment reinforces to me that it is so important to allow my children to learn through life experiences.

There is not one day as a mother that is no less or no important than the next.  Each day is an opportunity to appreciate my children and the gifts that they are.  Each day grants me the wisdom to learn from the mistakes I have made.  I also believe each day allows a window into how my mother felt raising me.

Yes, I believe every day is Mother’s Day.  

It would be completely remiss of me this Mother’s Day weekend to not mention the fact that my children were adopted out of foster care.  Most readers of this blog know this, but it’s a fact that shouldn’t be forgotten.  I know the circumstances of their birth parents, and it doesn’t fall too far from my thoughts about the kind of lives they potentially would’ve had if not protected by a child welfare system.  

In honor of my children, I encourage all of you to consider what you can do to help a foster child in the community you live in.  You can make a difference.  The simplest acts of kindness do not go forgotten.  Be bold, be kind, and be a hero to a child in foster care!

Love Your Little Ones

photo (61)Most of my day today was spent holding my 4-year-old daughter’s hand while she quietly laid in the emergency room hospital bed.  My daughter woke up early this morning, crying and screaming for me.  She was grasping the back of her head and crying out that something popped.  She was inconsolable.  I suggested that she must have slept wrong, and helped her change positions (she refused to move).

She settled down just a bit, and I stumbled back into bed.  Again, I was awakened to the same crying sound.  I gave her a dosage of Tylenol and started the process of deciding whether or not to take her to see a doctor.  Two hours passed and my daughter would not let go of her head.  She continued to complain of pain.  After a brief drop off of one child to a sitter, I phoned her doctor to set an appointment.

No sooner had I hung up the phone, the doctor’s office called right back and urged me to take her to the emergency room in case something neurological had taken place.  I quickly scooped my daughter up and hustled to the hospital.  The ER doctor suggested a cat scan of the brain and neck.  He simply told me in a rather non-emotional way, “I just want to check for anything possibly happening to her vertebrae, or a brain tumor.”  Um…or a brain tumor?  

This was not the first time these two words have been said to me in regards to my daughter.  When she was just 6-months-old, her skull grew so rapidly that her doctor ordered an MRI to rule out a brain tumor.  We were her foster parents at the time, and really had no idea what to expect.  Thankfully, it was clear.  We decided at that time that if the results were not what we wanted, and if she had a brain tumor, we would have continued fostering her.  We loved her so much regardless of what the future held.

Throughout the past four years my daughter has complained off and on of headaches, but usually they subside.  This one today though was completely unlike any other she had.  She literally held the back of her head in her hands all day and would not move.  As we waited a couple of hours for the results to be read, I sat next to her, holding her small, soft hand, and just thought about how many other mothers were in my position.  I felt fairly confident that the result would be okay, but still, the worry was there.  For just a brief moment I pondered the thought of her having a tumor, but quickly forced myself to “not go there”.

The doctor came in and reported that the scan was clear of any tumors, but that the radiologist found an abnormality in the top of her spinal column.  They called the neurosurgeon who took a look at it and reported that this was a congenital birth defect with her top vertebrae.  Apparently, the vertebrae did not fuse together completely.  There is a chance that it could repair itself, but otherwise, it should not be a problem for her growing up, and it did not contribute to today’s events.  The doctor advised me to watch her closely, follow-up with her pediatrician, and to report back should her situation worsen.

My drive home was full of thoughts about what had transpired today.  Again, I thought about all of the other mothers whose news about their babies had not turned out in their favor.  I also thought about my own mother who endured my childhood health problems.  I thought about those times she must have held my hand and endured through the sleepless nights of the month I was in the hospital following my hysterectomy.

One would think I should know this by now, but I learned, or better yet, learned again today that our health is not a guarantee.  Our children’s health is not guaranteed either.  One day we may be holding their hands walking them to school, and the next, we may be holding their hands waiting for test results.

My daughter is tucked in her bed as I’m typing this.  She is fine for now, and we are supposed to follow-up with her doctor tomorrow.  I’ll end this post with the following thoughts that occurred to me today:

Love your little ones.  Don’t take any day for granted with them.  Appreciate the moments, however small they may be, with your children.  These moments provide the fuel to continue doing the best job we can as a parents.  It is also in these moments that we can find subtle reminders of the blessing of children.

Wishing Flowers

photo (60)After playing around in the backyard, my son quietly opened the screen door, placed two “flowers” on the floor, closed the door, and then said, “Mommy, I got you something.”  I pretended I didn’t know that he had done this, and acted surprisingly thankful for his gift.

A few minutes later he said, “Do you know what those are?”  I replied, “Yes, they are dandelions.”  “No, they are not”, he boldly stated.  “Oh, well then what are they?” I asked.

“Mommy, they are wishing flowers!”

I thanked him again, picked up the wishing flowers, and then went about finishing up cleaning the kitchen.  I meant to make a wish with them, but my son and I got distracted, and moved on to other tasks to be done for the day.

My son’s vision about what most of us consider weeds got me to thinking about the perspective often used when looking at events or circumstances in life.  If something difficult comes my way, do I perceive it as having the possibility of hope? I’d like to say I do, but have to admit that there have been times where I’ve thought, “What a bad thing for this to be happening right now.”

In most respects, dandelions can become quite a nuisance when landscaping.  I actually think of them more as a weed than a flower.  Children love to pick them so that they can give them a slight puff of air which in turn sends their seedlings out into the world to create even more dandelions.  My son views them as opportunities for hopes to be fulfilled through unspoken wishes.

Like my son’s view of dandelions, God doesn’t see us as weeds, or nuisances either.  Instead, He sees us as having the great possibility to live meaningful and fulfilling lives.

God picks us up, and gives us fresh, loving air so that we can spread out into the world sharing light, hope, and most important of all, love.

my son making a wishphoto credit: http://sarahcarter.is/
my son making a wish
photo credit: http://sarahcarter.is/

The Egg of Grace

We dyed eggs this weekend with our children like we usually do on the eve of Easter.  I wanted to add an element of learning about our faith in Christ during this Easter tradition.  After boiling the eggs, I took a white crayon and wrote words on them in hope that when the eggs got dipped into the dye, the words would appear.  Thanks to my friend, Charity, for her wonderful ideas about incorporating our faith into Easter activities for children. The egg of grace showed up when I needed it to.

I chose the words justice, love, helping, forgiveness, kindness, hope, freedom, faith, humility, mercy, patience, and grace.  These words, in my opinion, are all characteristics of how Christians should walk in this world.  They are also characteristics of Jesus, and the words He spoke.  My plan was to talk about each word after we were finished.  My hope was for the kids to walk away not only with colorful fingertips from dying eggs, but also with little nuggets of wisdom tucked away.

Well, this momma’s plan didn’t exactly work the way I wanted it to.  I messed up by writing the words when the eggs were a little too hot.  One by one, as the eggs were pulled out of the dye, white blotches appeared.  It looked more like bleach spots instead of formed words showing up.  My kids were saying things like, “What is that?!”  They didn’t seem to mind and quickly moved on to the next egg. I was a bit frustrated and already figured out a plan of correction for next Easter.

As my son pulled another egg out of the green dye, the word began to form a little clearer than the others.  One might not be able to make it out, but since I wrote the words, I immediately recognized the word grace.  “What’s that say?”, asked my son.  I answered, “It says grace.”  He gave me a puzzled look and moved on to the next egg.

I didn’t have the words at the time to tell my children what grace means.  I was flustered from the whole project being awash, so I just let it go.  As I started to put the eggs up, I couldn’t help but notice that eleven of the dozen eggs were a mess. The only one that was clear enough to form a word was the egg of grace.

Immediately, I began thinking that life is just one big mess up over and over again, and yet, God’s grace is always present.  Grace cleans up my messes.  Grace doesn’t hold a grudge, and grace doesn’t change.  I also thought about how often I fail at showing more grace to my children for their messes.

As I was tucking my son into bed, I asked him, “Do you remember the egg that had grace written on it?”  He said, “Yes.”  I said, “The other eggs had messed up words on them.  We mess up in life and make mistakes, but God offers grace to us.  God doesn’t get mad when we mess up.”  I went on to tell him that we are to offer grace to others when they make mistakes or upset us.  I kissed him goodnight, and walked out of the room.

I learned from this that I should never disallow a lesson that the Lord is placing in front of me.  I should never assume that I messed up so bad that nothing can come from it.  I also learned that my offering of grace needs to supersede what I expect to be offered from others.

There are messes all around me, within me, and because of me.  Most of all, I was reminded that when it seems that nothing good comes from mistakes, and that things are just too messed up to be worth anything, grace appears.

Diaper Rash Fix (Homemade)

photo (52)This is probably one of the most random posts I will ever share, but I thought I would pass this tip along for any mommies who are struggling with treating their infant’s diaper rash.  My granny raised ten babies in the Ozarks area with very little money and had a cure for just about anything.  My mom passed along my granny’s cure for diaper rash, and it definitely works!

It is quite simple.  1) Take flour (plain white flour) and scorch it in a skillet until light brown.  2)  Let it cool completely, then gently pat onto baby’s bottom.

It works within 24-48 hours.  The diaper rash or redness is essentially gone!  Make sure to warn your sitters or anyone else watching your little ones though as it may shock and scare them a little to change a baby’s diaper and not know that you have coated their bottoms with scorched flour!

I know my granny had other fixes from her life of raising children with very little resources.  I need to ask my mom and other relatives so that I can write them down and pass along to my children.

Thanks for reading and have a great day!

Dear Infertility (Part 2),

Dear infertility,

It’s been a while since we’ve spoken.  Funny how I carried you around for so many years, and now I don’t think of you on a day-to-day basis like I used to.  I swore I would never forget you, be able to let go of you, or even get over you, but, look at me now. You do not consume me anymore.

Dear infertility – You made me feel as though I was being punished.  If children are a reward from the Lord, then I must have done something pretty awful not to be rewarded with children…right?  You made me feel this way.  You spoke these lies to me.  You made me feel as though I was less important to the Creator of my beginning and Script-Writer of my future.

You made me think that I would never experience the same type of happiness that those around me were experiencing.  You forced me to wallow in my own despair, and yet, you never consoled me.  You never wiped my tears.  You never told me anything hopeful.  Instead, you shouted at me.  You screamed pain to me.  You never promised me a happy ending.

Dear infertility – you forsake me.  You made me feel like a victim, and at times, you made me feel as though I deserved what happened to me in my youth.  I’m here to tell you, I didn’t deserve it.  I was never a victim, and never will be.  The Lord was not punishing me.  He was not withholding His blessings of children.  He did not forget my name.  I was never less important to Him, or to the world He created, even though you made me feel that way.

Dear infertility – my Creator, my Comforter, my Healer, and my Hope remembers me.  He remembers the tears I cried because of you.  Not only does He remember them, He carries them.  He does not leave me feeling like a victim as you did.  He did not punish me.  What happened to me was an accident, a life-changing mistake that led to a tragic illness that even He mourned over.

He heard the deepest cry from the most secret place of my heart, and He listened. He did not ignore me like you did.  He answered me with the opening of doors, the closing of others, and the humbling moments that led me to being a parent.  He rewarded me with the gift of children.  He charged me with the care of some very special little ones that mean more to Him that I can ever imagine.  You, however, would have never promised me this.  You never would have told me to continue hoping for the fulfillment of my heart.

Dear infertility – I barely remember you, even though I will never forget you.  I will never forget the way you made me feel, the isolation you brought to my life, and the agony of not knowing if my prayers would be answered.  I will never forget being told that you would always be with me.  I was a child myself, and yet, I was forced to learn about you.  You stuck to me like glue.  I didn’t want you.  I didn’t need you, and I certainly didn’t understand you.

Dear infertility – remember me?  I am not the same person I used to be.  I am not that sickly girl, confused teen, and anguished woman I used to be.  I no longer doubt how incredible the Lord is, or even who He is.  I no longer feel like I am on the outside looking in on a life that would never be fully lived.  I am whole.  I am complete.  I am fulfilled.  I am living a life fully lived.  I am certainly not what you want me to be.

You even tried to damage those who loved me.  My parents and family members grieved over what you did to me.  My grandparents went to their grave never knowing that you would not dictate my future.  My parents will not forget what you did, but they too are busy with the joy of grandchildren to think about you anymore.

I suppose you will always be with me, although, I don’t listen to you anymore.  The truth is, I will never listen to you again.  I am too busy listening to the laughter of my children, and the love of my Lord.  I am too busy getting up in the middle of the night changing diapers, fixing school lunches, planning parties, and living a life full of the reward of children.

Dear infertility, I thought of you today while I was holding a little one and praising my Lord.  I thought of how you must feel now that I have moved on from you.  Can I ask you one thing?  Can I ask you to only remind me of you when I start to take my life for granted?  It is not that I don’t recall you from time-to-time.  When I scan over the memories of life and what all the Mighty Lord has done, you do enter my mind.

I remember laying in the hospital bed clinging to life and learning about you.  I remember trying to wrap my young mind and heart around you, even though, I had no idea who you were.  I remember being a teenager and feeling like I was so different from the other girls.  I remember crying into my pillow as I watched others being rewarded with children.

Dear infertility – it’s been a while since we’ve spoken.  It’s been a while since your name has crossed my mind.  It surely has been a while since the tears flowing from my eyes were filled with you.  I may still call on you from time-to-time, but for now, I’m going to tuck you back into my heart again.

Goodbye for now, goodbye.

Related articles – the first letter I wrote to infertility:

Dear Infertility

Dear Infertility (Part # 2)

Dear infertility,

It’s been a while since we’ve spoken. Funny how I carried you around for so many years, and now I don’t think of you on a day-to-day basis like I used to. I swore I would never forget you or even get over you, but look at me now. You do not consume me anymore.

You made me feel as though I was being punished. If children are a reward from the Lord, then I must have done something pretty awful not to be rewarded with children…right? You made me feel this way. You spoke these lies to me. You made me feel as though I was less important to the Creator of my beginning and Script-Writer of my future.

You made me think that I would never experience the same type of happiness that those around me were experiencing. You forced me to wallow in my own despair, and yet, you never consoled me. You never wiped my tears. You never told me anything hopeful. Instead, you shouted at me. You screamed pain to me and never promised a happy ending.

Dear infertility – You made me feel like a victim, and at times, you made me feel as though I deserved what happened to me in my youth. I’m here to tell you, I didn’t deserve it. I was not a victim, and never will be. The Lord was not punishing me. He was not withholding His blessings of children. He did not forget my name. I was never less important to Him, or to the world He created. You hate hearing that, don’t you?

My Creator, my Comforter, my Healer, and my Hope remembers me. He remembers the tears I cried because of you. Not only does He remember them, but He also carries them. He does not leave me feeling like a victim as you did. He did not punish me. What happened to me was an accident, a life-changing mistake that led to a tragic illness that even He mourned over.

He heard the deepest cry from the most secret place of my heart, and He listened. He did not ignore me as you did. He answered me with the opening of doors, the closing of others, and the humbling moments that led me to be a parent. He rewarded me with the gift of children. He charged me with the care of some very special little ones that mean more to Him than I can ever imagine. You, however, would have never promised me this. You never would have told me to continue hoping for the fulfillment of my heart.

I barely remember you, even though I will never forget you. I will never forget the way you made me feel, the isolation brought to my life and the agony of not knowing if my prayers would be answered. I can’t ever forget being told that you would always be with me. That scene is forever sewn into my memory. I was a child myself, and yet, I was forced to learn about you. You stuck to me like glue but I didn’t want you. I didn’t need you, and I certainly didn’t understand you.

Dear infertility – remember me? I am not the same person I used to be. I am no longer the sickly girl, a confused teen, and an anguished woman. I don’t doubt how incredible the Lord is, or even who He is. I no longer feel like I am on the outside looking in on a life that would never be fully lived. I am whole. Complete. Fulfilled. I am living a life fully lived and am certainly not what you want me to be.

You even tried to damage those who loved me. My parents and family members grieved over what you did to me. My grandparents went to their grave never knowing that you would not dictate my future. My parents will not forget what you did, but they too are busy with the joy of grandchildren to think about you anymore.

I suppose you will always be with me, although, I don’t listen to you anymore. The truth is, I will never listen to you again. I am too busy listening to the laughter of my children, and the love of my Lord. I am too busy getting up in the middle of the night changing diapers, fixing school lunches, planning parties, and living a life full of the reward of children.

Dear infertility – I thought of you today while I was holding a little one and praising my Lord. I thought of how you must feel now that I have moved on from you. Can I ask you one thing? Can I ask you to only remind me of you when I start to take my life for granted? It is not that I don’t recall you from time-to-time. When I scan over the memories of life and what all the Mighty Lord has done, you enter my mind.

I remember laying in the hospital bed clinging to life and learning about you. I remember trying to wrap my young mind and heart around you, even though, I had no idea who you were. I recall being a teenager and feeling like I was so different from the other girls. I remember crying into my pillow as I watched others being rewarded with children.

Dear infertility – it’s been a while since we’ve spoken; since your name has crossed my mind. It surely has been a while since the tears flowing from my eyes were filled with you. I may still call on you from time-to-time, but for now, I’m going to tuck you back into my heart again.

Goodbye for now. Goodbye.

More than ADHD

His 1st art exhibit at a local community center! (one of his many talents)
His 1st art exhibit at a local community center! (one of his many talents)

A pitiful sounding knock on the front door told me that my son was coming inside a little earlier than expected.  When questioned about the time he had outside, he told the story of being “told” to go home because he didn’t want to play the game the other kids wanted to play.  My heart sunk a little.  I know that he was probably leaving out a few details, and perhaps he was being a little aggressive, selfish, or anything else that a boy can be, but I didn’t really care.  My heart hurts when his heart is hurting.

A few minutes later he got mad at his sister for a trivial thing, erupted into tears, ran to his room, and shut the door.  We gave him his space, but eventually my husband went into his room to console him.  I’m not sure if we ever will know the full story of what happened with the other boys on the street, but obviously my son felt like an outcast.

My maternal, bear-like instincts kicked in immediately.  Truth be told, I wanted to march right across the street, ask what happened, and why my son was the only one not playing outside with them.  I didn’t though.  I stayed in and stewed a minute within myself trying to come up with the right words for him.  I eventually said, “It’s okay if you don’t want to play tag or anything else they want to play.  You don’t have to go along with what they want to do all of the time, and the next time they come over and ask if you if you want to play, it’s okay for you to say no, if that’s what you want to do.”

I don’t know if that was the right response.  It’s hard to teach a child to stick up for himself/herself in this age of “bully-hood”.  I want my children to stand up for themselves, but at the same time, I don’t want their stance to backfire and for them to be labeled.  This is not the first time he has been let down by the kids on the street.  I witnessed a few of them making fun of him and not “allowing” him to play with them.  On that day, I spoke up and said to these boys, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, please don’t say anything at all.”

I have not really ever written about the challenges we have raising a son with ADHD.  A part of me feels as though I’m betraying him a bit by even mentioning it.  Yet, there is another part of me who needs to reach out about parenting a child with it.  Prior to seeing “it” in action, I got caught up in the thinking that “every child is hyper/he’s just a boy”.  I’ve learned through first-hand experience that raising a child with ADHD is difficult.  It causes social problems, potential behavioral problems, and can affect self-esteem.

I know he can be impulsive at times, might not listen with intensity, makes friends and loses them quickly, and always seems to be one step ahead of his peers.  I also know that he gets bored with repeated play and does tend to play by himself a lot.  I’ve heard comments suggesting that he just needs to be disciplined, or he needs to act like other boys, etc.  When things like this are said, it stings a bit.  I’m not excusing any of his social or behavioral challenges because of ADHD, I’m just keenly aware that there are certain symptoms that go along with the diagnosis.  Even I find myself struggling at times with patience in having to redirect him numerous times about the same thing over and over again.

With all of that being said, I also know that he is an incredible child with an inquisitive mind, a tender heart, an artistic streak, and a will as strong as steel.  He’s a unique little guy who loves life and loves his family.  His mind is constantly creating new ways of doing things.  He can make a project out of scraps and comes up with ideas of how to use various items around the house for future pieces of artwork.  In other words, he’s a Super-Boy!

If only others would see him through my eyes, maybe he would be understood a little bit more.  I know all of the reasons why he entered protective services at the age of two-days-old.  I know his history and the history of his biological family.  I know his struggles, his insecurities, and his talents.  I know his desire to have solid friendships as well.  He will never fit into a box that others may want him to, including the box I might desire for him at times.  He is more than ADHD – so much more.

I also wonder if we could all take a look around us and see each other the way our Heavenly Father sees us.  He sees us through eyes of grace.  He knows our past, our insecurities, our struggles, our talents, and our desires.  He also knows that our past does not dictate our future, and our failures do not outweigh our successes.

Who knew the rejection of playtime outside in the middle of America would cause me to think about all of this?!?  It seems that life can throw so many parenting lessons at us, and the Lord’s wisdom abounds in these teachable moments.  It also reminds me that we need to continually build our children up.  We need to be bold enough to tell them just how incredible they are not just because they are children, but because they are diverse and talented with their own set of gifts to offer to the world.

Raising a child with ADHD presents challenges on a day-to-day basis.  It doesn’t just go away over time, and to be honest, I’m not entirely sure how it will unfold in my son’s life as he grows into adolescence.  One thing I do know is that my love of him pales in comparison to God’s love for him, and that is something I can always be sure of.

Are you parenting a child with ADHD?  If so, what are some strategies you use to increase social skills and reduce any other types of behaviors that come along?

Majesty (my attempt at a poem)

While driving the new little one to the doctor the other day, my mind started to wander a bit about the place I’m at in life.  I’m 41-years-old, and am raising very young children.  I thought about some of my friends my age who are starting to watch their children prepare for high school graduation, or drive a car, or even start their careers, and all I could think of is how my life is about half-way over and I’m just now in the beginning years of raising a family!

The realization that I will be rearing my children well into my mid-to-late 50’s is quite humbling, and a little concerning.  I get told I look young for my age, and most days I can keep up with the kids, but I cannot escape the years that have already been behind me, nor can I escape the years ahead.  I find it easy sometimes to think about what I could be doing in the last half of my life.  Preparing for retirement, traveling, down-sizing to a great little loft downtown, etc…are all things that have crossed my mind.

Just as soon as my mind starts to walk down that path of “what if”, I quickly come back to the reality of what my life is at this moment, and what the Lord has given me.  Below is little poem I jotted down after thinking all of this through.  It was laid on my heart, and although I’m not a poet or even that skilled at writing poetry, it serves the purpose of speaking out loud my contentment with the life I have.

Majesty

I’ll probably never climb a mountain or swim in the deepest sea.

I’ll never build a mansion or have my name lit up on a marquee.

I probably won’t explore a jungle or fly off into the galaxy, but the Lord, my Father, has proven Himself time and again to me.

I may not ever paint a masterpiece or solve a great mystery.

I won’t carry around many riches nor discover what the eye has yet to see.

I won’t be known for perfection and struggle at times with humility, but when I think of my Lord, my Father, how great You are, my heart screams Majesty.

Thinking of all I will not do or things that won’t happen for me, all I have to do is think of You  – Abba Father, Daddy, Lord – and my heart screams Majesty!

Little Miracles

My little miracles!
Photograph Credit – http://sarahcarter.is/

“The child must know that he is a miracle, that since the beginning of the world there hasn’t been, and until the end of the world there will not be, another child like him.” – Pablo Casals

Children are miraculous indeed.  Through bringing in and caring for a new little one, I’ve been so incredibly blessed these past few weeks by rediscovering the innocent beauty of children.  Sometimes I think I take them for granted.  Other times I think I expect too much, or maybe too little.  Most of the time though, I continually try to figure them out.  I will never get all their quirks or  habits, or any of the things that make them human.  I will never be able to put my finger on what exactly makes them tick.  One thing I do know is that the knowledge of God’s love of children, and the mercy He shows us through them, makes my heart swell with contentment and peace.

Yes, I’ve been incredibly blessed these past few weeks to add another child into our home.  I don’t know any other way to handle it all except with the wisdom that our Father in Heaven has called us to be the hands and feet that meet the needs of this little one.  Welcome, little miracle, welcome.