While at the store the other day with my daughter, a lady stopped me and said, “Your daughter looks just like you. You sure could never deny her!” I thanked her for noticing us, wished her a good day, and even thought, “There are some days I’d like to deny…..” I’ll just stop there!
It is funny, you know. I get told often how all of my kids resemble me in someway. Sometimes, I see it. Sometimes, I don’t.
I definitely “see myself” in them, though. I see the good, the bad, and the ugly. Do you know those moments when your child says something in just a way that you are quickly reminded of how you must sound when saying the same thing? Yep, these are the times when I realize how much of an influence I make on my kids. It is also a reminder that if our kids can repeat some of the things we say in our not-so-fine moments, then they can surely remember the things we say when we are at our best.
There are also moments when your child does something out of love, or speaks incredible wisdom that stops you right in your place. These are the times when I catch a glimpse of myself in the kids, or am taught a lesson by them.
To the sweet lady at the grocery store who stopped to tell me how much my daughter looks like me, Thank You. As a parent through adoption, I get tickled by it, and find such a great sense of how truly awesome and purposeful adoption really is.
I love that in many ways my kids look like me, and my husband. More important, though, is the thought that every action or word we say as parents strikes even deeper in the hearts and minds of our children.
In so many ways, they are a reflection of who we are.
Give that a thought.
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Several months ago, I was contacted by an author regarding contributing for a devotional for adopting moms. I was asked to write a five-day devotion, and agreed to do so. The book is now out (future blog post to come about it). I’ve been reading through parts of it, and came across this from one of the other contributors.
In the weekly devotion on the topic of love, she writes:
“Sometimes I feel as if I’m doing this all wrong. Being a mama is hard. My dishes are piled in my sink as I type this. I had to dig through dirty clothes that were in the floor to find pajamas for my baby because the flu has overtaken our house this week. It’s Monday and I haven’t bought groceries for the week. Toys are scattered all over my living room and if I hear Mickey Mouse Clubhouse one more time, I think I might scream.
However, these are insignificant to the despairs you might be feeling today. Loving children that come from hard places is difficult. You might have numerous therapy appointments scheduled this week. You might feel as if you’re the only parent who is still having trouble bonding with your child. You might feel as if this calling to adopt has taken you out in the wilderness and left you with nothing but pain, like Hagar. But God didn’t leave her there.”
Wow. Yep, this one completely jumped out at me. Life seems like a vast wilderness, sometimes. Parenting does, too. So thankful, though, that God does not leave us in our messes, and on our own as we tackle life.
If you are feeling as though your own parenting journey has become a wilderness, take heart. While the journey may be difficult at times, God won’t leave you in it alone.
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It had been a rough week with our daughter. She’s extremely sweet at times, but at other times, she can be quite difficult. As we left for church last Sunday, all I was thinking is how much I just wanted to crawl back in bed.
My daughter wanted to stay with us for the worship songs before she went to her Sunday school class. Although I really wanted her to go to her class, I know how much it means to stand together with your child and worship God.
Soon into our service the song “Broken Vessels” by Hillsong Worship was sung. The song uses part of the song “Amazing Grace” in it. Although I was dwelling on the issues of the week, and the problems we had just right before we left for church, I began to listen and hear my six-year-old daughter sing,
“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind but now I see.”
My daughter has said for several years that “Amazing Grace” is her favorite song. I sing it to her every night before she falls asleep. As her little voice sang the words, my heart was punched.
A little further along in the song are these lyrics,
“You take our failure. You take our weakness. You set Your treasure In jars of clay. So take this heart, Lord, I’ll be Your vessel. The world to see,Your love in me.”
As I tried to sing the words, my mind and heart were interrupted by the thoughts of my daughter, my other children, and my own life. Soon, I was wiping tears away.
During the song while listening to my daughter sing, I was convicted at the very existence of my daughter, and all of us.
Broken vessels.
Wounded. Weak. Full of failures.
Jars of clay.
God’s greatest treasure.
Did you read that? Inside of us is God’s greatest treasure.
Despite our failings as we walk this Earth, and despite our histories, our greatest regrets, and our current circumstances, inside us dwells the greatest treasure of all.
Friends, if you are feeling less than what you wished you would be, confused by your circumstances, or perhaps, that you are not worthy of love, remember this,
YOU are GOD’s TREASURE.
Isn’t that something to cherish?
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These words have echoed in my mind and heart through the past several weeks. Okay, maybe for the past few months. I’m someone who has always seems to have a plan, goal, and mission in mind. My to-do list does not seem to have an expiration date, and even time off is filled with a handful of items to check off of it.
In other words, I am used to being busy – physically, emotionally, and even, spiritually.
Several months ago, I went to work out at the crack of dawn (literally), came home, got ready for work, got the kiddos ready for school, and then had a bit of a coughing spell. I felt a “pop” in my lower back. I even said to my husband, “I think I pulled a muscle.
Even with pain, I still went about keeping up with my daily regimen. I also continued to train for an annual 150-mile cycling event that I have completed for the past few years. However, that nagging pain I kept feeling wouldn’t leave me. That voice that gently encouraged me to “just be still” didn’t go away. With the coaxing of my husband, I went to the doctor. Turns out I bulged a disk in my back out (from a coughing spell, no less!).
I had no choice. I had to be still.
“Be still?!?” I thought. That is NOT for me. I’m not a “still” person. “I’ve got things to do! I’ve got a household that needs maintained, a job that needs fulfilled, children to navigate through the day, and a cycling event coming up!”
As I sat in my home, heating pad on my lower back, waiting for the doctor to let me know if I would need surgery or not, and wondering when the back pain would go away, I kept staring at the very things that needed to be done around the house.
I began to think about the past several years, and have they seem to have flown by. I’ve been really busy, you know. With working, raising three children, tending to my home, keeping up with this blog, cycling, and starting a handful of other writing projects, it seems as though I was never still.
I even thought,
“I was not born into this world to be still.”
I did get that call from the doctor, a follow-up visit, and the most positive outcome from having a back injury (no surgery needed) that I wanted to hear. This was the best case scenario. However, through the course of it all, the words, “Just be Still”kept echoing through my spirit.
The time following my injury I was forced to be still. No lifting, no riding my bike, no carrying children around, and staying off my feet as much as possible. I thought I was going to be miserable, but instead, I found peace and renewal in being still.
Instead of looking around at the things in my home that needed to be done, I watched my children play in the living room. I observed my husband’s care of them, and my daughter’s concern for my health. It seems that being still is exactly what I needed.
After I recovered, I got back into my normal routine which includes driving my son to and from gymnastics training. Typically, on the way home from a long day, I am usually flying to get back to the house to start the nightly rituals of getting the kids in bed. On that night, though, I slowed down, enjoyed the car ride with my son, and caught a glimpse of God’s artistry in the night sky. We noticed it together, and pulled over to take a picture.
“Just be still, Caroline. Just be still.”
Friends,
That nagging pain you are feeling….
That whisper of “just be still” that you can’t seem to shake….
That rest you have been mandated to do….
Perhaps, these things are drawing you closer to your Father than you think.
Perhaps, being still is exactly what you need.
“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”
-Psalm 46:10
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Today at lunchtime, my family and I sat around the table chowing down on our black-eyed peas, chips with cheese dip, shrimp cocktail, and “little smokies”. Our conversation evolved to one regarding our goals for 2015.
“I want to try something new,” I said. “What, Mommy?”, my children exclaimed. “I think we should write down our own goals and then some family goals for this year. We’ll seal them in an envelope and open them up one year from today to see if we accomplished them.”
They were super excited to do this. Well, at least our older children were. Our two-year old seemed to be too busy playing with the food on his plate! We went around the table and spoke about our personal goals, and this is what I was reminded of.
If you give your children the silence and time to speak about their goals and hopes, you can learn so much about them.
My son and daughter both set goals that, if achieved, will benefit them both in a personal way, in a way that benefits our family, and definitely in a way that affects the greater good. My husband and I told them our goals as well. Then, as a family, we talked about goals for the new year. My children exclaimed,
“I want to fill the Blessing Jar up to the very top! “
“I think we should clean up trash in the streets to help keep our environment around us clean.”
“We need to help each other more.”
“We should use calm voices more often with each other.”
As I wrote the goals down, a flow of those endearing little nudges of goodness showered me. It seems, despite my many unending flaws as a parent, our children are precious little souls who yearn for opportunities to do good.
After lunch, we departed in our various tasks of the day. Our daughter went to play with a friend at her house down the street. Our two-year-old ran circles in the living room. My husband started helping out with the daily chores involved with taking care of a family of five, and my oldest son went to his bedroom to look through a stack of books he wanted to donate.
I locked myself in our bedroom and started going through our closet. As I pulled things out to organize and donate (if desired), a funny thing started to happen. I realized that I get frustrated at the amount of “stuff” my children want to keep, and yet, there I was sitting in the middle of my bedroom stuffing trash bags full of gently used clothing, unused jewelry, and items I once swore that I needed.
Five trash bags of clothing, toys my children decided to rid themselves of, and other items, started to take up the space of my bedroom. And then, my soul was stirred about the many things I carry in my heart that the Lord wants me to rid myself of.
I know there is more space in my life to donate to intentional parenting with my children. I know that this vessel of life can do so much more. At the same time, I also know the things that pull me away from the Lord’s wisdom. I need to stick away these things in a trash bag, and let go of them.
With my children’s words of our family goals today fresh in my mind, here are my thoughts as I enter into 2015:
“God,I want to fill others…other jars of clay…with words that bless them.”
“Lord, I know there is a lot of trash in my life and in the streets of my thoughts that I need to clean up to keep this incredible environment of life clean.”
“Father, help me to help each other more.”
“Savior, I pray Your voice will calm the waves of contempt in my life, and in turn, will create moments that I can be used bring peace to others.”
Here’s to 2015! This is a wonderful time to be living on this side of Heaven. My hope for this upcoming year is that we will all be drawn closer to Origin of Love.
Now, that is a New Year’s Resolution we can all attain.
Happy New Year, Friends.
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“What are you doing? Why aren’t you out there?” I asked my son as he sat down next to me during gymnastics practice. My oldest son is a competitive gymnast, and he has newly discovered an emotion in regards to the sport that he has taken up…
FEAR
“I just don’t want to do a back hand-spring. I’m scared” he said. I went on to tell stories about my own fears, and how overcoming them have led to accomplishing fun things – like the first time I tried clip-in cycling shoes and fell over and over again until I got it right. He remembers watching me fall over and over again, and how I put my bike away for a few weeks, until I got it out, clipped in, and rode away determined to not let fear overcome me.
I also asked him, “Is this it? Are you ready to quit?” He shrugged his shoulders, and whispered the word “maybe”. I said, “No. Not like this. Get out there, do your job. You can do it. Once you get it, you will love it. There is nothing to be scared of.”
He finished practice and didn’t mention his fear again. Later in the day, I told him the story of Olympic gymnast Kerri Strug who finished her last vault with a broken ankle, and in doing so, became an Olympic champion. I talked about fear and how sometimes the hardest things we do in life are often not the easiest.
The truth is – this is NOT about gymnastics. It is NOT about if my son will ever go on to be a champion in the sport. No, this is not about these things at all. Instead, it is about teaching my son that when the going gets tough, the tough keep going. In other words, it is about overcoming fears, and accepting challenges. It’s about perseverance.
I’ve thought about this topic often, perhaps more now than I ever have before. Now that I am a mother, I admire the quality that instinctively knows how to teach children about perseverance. It is not an easy task, and yet, it is probably one of the most important character-building values that a parent can teach a child.
This also got me to thinking about my own upbringing, and the lessons learned. One of the greatest gifts my mother ever gave me was not a gift at all. It was not expensive, tangible, collectible, or desired.
It was the gift of perseverance.
Some of my earliest memories of the words my mom spoke to me include the following:
“You can be whatever you want as long as you put your heart into it.”
My mom knows a lot about life not being fair. The youngest of ten children born in the Ozarks (southern Missouri), she experienced a life without a lot of frills. At the age of seven, her daddy suddenly died, leaving behind her mother with children still at home.
After his death, my grandma packed up the kids who were still at home, and moved to the city to find work. Mom has told me of having one pair of shoes per year. She has shared with me about my grandma working three jobs to keep food on the table. Sometimes, mom would come home to an empty house and eat a can of green beans for dinner. She recalls hiding “nice things” from the social worker who stopped by to make sure grandma was not taking advantage of the welfare checks.
As you might be able to imagine, my mom and her siblings did not have the best of things growing up. However, maybe…just maybe, they learned the best characteristics of the human experience. They learned that family is important, hard work is required, and sometimes, life is not fair, but that is not a good enough reason to stop carrying on. They learned the value of perseverance.
After my illness and hysterectomy in 1983, as you can imagine, mom leaned a lot on perseverance. She had to. She had to show me that sometimes life isn’t fair, and you just have to get up and keep going. She also had to abide by the notion that there is a reason behind everything that happens in life, and that God allows things that we do not understand at the time, but one day, these things once thought of as being a cruel twist in life, can turn out to be incredibly strengthening lessons. These lessons, in turn, are amazing blessings.
I remember parts of my time in the hospital, and afterward. I do not remember how it affected my mother, though. I look back at some pictures and can tell she became awfully thin during that time, but otherwise, she was still the same mom as she was before that sadness entered her life, my dad’s, and mine.
She got right back up, day after day, and continued to raise a daughter who learned to believe in setting her heart to the things she wanted to accomplish in life. She taught strength, courage, and perseverance by simply modeling what it is to keep going on in life, to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and to not allow set-backs be an excuse for giving up.
My first birthday following my hysterectomy – 1983.
My mom has faced many giants in her life. The impact of my illness on her, honestly, has been lifelong. It doesn’t take much to provoke a tear out of her when talking about it. Still yet, there’s that resilience….that echo of perseverance that has resonated throughout the years.
As I reflect on my son’s own fear of accomplishing what seems to be a difficult task, I appreciate so much of the unspoken acts of intentional courage that my mother showed to me. I appreciate more than ever the stronghold she displayed when faced with unwavering despair.
Persevering through difficult times, hard choices, moments that take the wind out of you, seemingly simplistic fears, and times when it is hard to discern God’s reasoning, are the times when we, as parents, can make an incredible, life-altering impact on our children’s lives.
Fellow parents, and yet-to-be parents, keep on keeping on. After all is said and done, your courage to persevere will make a lasting impression on your children, and in turn, on future generations.
Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. —Romans 5:2-5
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It has been one of those weeks, or two with my almost 7-year-old son. I’m not sure what it is – start of school, sudden warm weather (we’ve had a mild summer for Missouri until recently), allergies, hyperactivity….not sure. There has been moments this past week or so that I’ve thought, “What am I going to do with him?!?!”
I’ve been disappointed with some of his choices, concerned about some of his actions, and prayed for the Lord’s continual healing and protection of his life. I realize as a parent that this is probably the most loving thing I can do for him. I also recognize that I’m not alone in my concerns. Many parents, if not all, digest their children’s actions and choices on a daily basis.
A few days ago while riding in the car, my son started singing a song on the radio. The faint, slightly off-key voice of my young boy caught my attention. It did more than cause me to pause a while and listen. His small voice stirred my heart a bit. It was during this time that I became overwhelmed by the power of love.
Love forgives the past. Love moves us away from disappointments. Love enters our hearts, and seeps out of every pore in our bodies.
I am overwhelmed by just how much I love him, my daughter, and my littlest one. I may not ever be able to “fix” all of the struggles they have. I’m not even sure if I should anyway. I may not understand fully what it is like to live life walking in their skins.
I know I will never be able to completely fill the blank spaces in their histories, or write their stories in a way that will bring total comfort, but….I love them. Even in my disappointments, moments of utter frustration, and moments of joy, the one thing that doesn’t change is my heart’s commitment to who they are, and who the Lord has ordained me to be in their lives.
As I continued driving and listening to his sweet little voice stumbling over words he didn’t know, I felt the Lord saying to me,
“Caroline, this is how I have heard you through the years. I’ve heard your imperfect voice. This is how I see you. I’ve seen your choices. This is what I feel for you, and all of my beloved children. I’ve rejoiced for you, and cried with you. This is how I love you, and always will.”
In those times when we disappoint, or we make bad choices, or maybe we reach that place of throwing our hands up and giving in, His Love – the most significant, unexplained, miraculous, life-changing, hope-sustaining, and compassionate love – has not changed, nor will it.
Through all of life’s challenges and changes, times of peace and times of war, mountain-tops and valleys, trials and talents, and sounds and silences, His love remains. His love is the one true constant, never-changing presence of our histories. It is the unchanging backbone of our present, and it is the eternal, life-preserver for our future.
Deuteronomy 7:9 9 Know therefore that the LORD your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commands.
Awesome….thank you, Father.
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I dropped my first grader off in your room yesterday. Truth be told, I didn’t want to leave the room. I wanted to sit with him, introduce him to some kids he didn’t know, and help him understand that first grade is different from Kindergarten.
I wanted to help him unpack his belongings, check his backpack again, remind him about his lunch, and stay with him. I wanted to be with him on the playground during recess. I wanted to stand up for him if I needed to, explain to the other kids how amazing he is, and fill them in on how he doesn’t worry too much about what others think about his interests, or lack there of. I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs, “I LOVE THIS BOY!”
Dear Teacher I Barely Know, please help me understand how he learns. Help me understand his struggles, his successes, and his potential. In return, I’ll give you insight into his world. I’ll share his talents, his interests, and his needs. We need each other. We have a lot to teach each other, but even more to learn from each other.
I need to hear from you about his time at school. I want you to hear from me that my first grader is complicated, amazing, impulsive, creative, misunderstood at times, and deeply cherished. I want you to know how much he has colored my world with every shade of love possible. I need you to know that I would do anything for him, including holding him accountable for his actions.
I want you to see my son for who he is…all of him…not just the blonde-haired boy sitting in the front row of your classroom. Do you know that there is no place he’d rather be than on the lake with his Papa? Do you know that he really isn’t into sports, but excels at gymnastics? Are you aware that he’d rather dig up worms, and watch fishing shows than sit in front of a video game? Do you know that he draws pictures for me just about everyday?
Do you know that he has already cried, and described his day at school as being “hard”? Do you know that his three best buddies from Kindergarten moved to another school this year? Are you aware that he doesn’t have a lot of friends outside of school, except the girl down the street, and few at the lake who visit when he sees his Papa? Do you know that he asked me the day before school started to remind him again of the kids who might play with him?
Do you know how much that breaks a mother’s heart? Are you aware that I leave a piece of my heart at the door each time I drop him off at school?
Dear Teacher I Barely Know, I don’t expect you to invite the Lord into your classroom, but I have. I’ve asked Him to wrap each child with arms of protection. I’ve prayed that He would be in the midst of your interactions, your lessons, and your set of challenges. I’ve asked Him to show kindness, gentleness, and love through the actions of others. I’ve prayed for you, other students, and my son.
Dear Teacher I Barely Know, you have a tough job. I don’t envy you, and I certainly don’t know if I could spend my days like you do. I want you to know that I don’t expect you to treat my son better than any other child. I know how deeply each child is loved by his or her parents. I know other parents must wonder how their children are at school. I’m sure other parents worry about friendships, peer pressure, bullying, and loneliness. Surely other parents pray for their children, and desire more than anything that their children will learn, grow, and pursue happiness.
I trust you. I know you must love children. I know you have years of experience with kids just like my son, but I do not. I’m still learning how to be a parent. I’m learning that my kids’ needs change with each year, and that life doesn’t get easier as they grow up. I’m still making mistakes, needing do-overs, and learning not to sweat the small stuff.
Dear Teacher I Barely Know, we share something very special in common. We are teachers, models, and disciplinarians to the same child. We are both set out to understand, shape, and encourage the same child. We may barely know each other, but are now connected through this wonderful boy. I’m here for you. I support you. I will back you up when you need it, but I will also defend my son when he needs it.
Dear Teacher I Barely Know, welcome to my world. Welcome to my son.
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Dear mothers and fathers, you are raising the next generation of mothers and fathers. You have the most important job in the world, so don’t allow yourself to feel as though your role is invisible or doesn’t matter. You are the architects of future family systems.
You are the builders laying down the foundation for generations to come. You are the soil that roots take hold of. You are artists who painfully work each day sculpting, refining, and creating the masterpiece that your children are.
There is no audience more important than that of children. They watch you, they listen to you, and they move with you. If you sway one way, they will follow. If you give up, they may never try. If you conquer a mountain, they will climb up after you. If you finish the race, they will yearn to cross the finish line as well.
If you embrace faith, then let them see you live it out. If charity makes your heart beat, then be charitable to them and in front of them. If you value friendships, then teach them to be a good friend. If humility is something you desire for them, then be humble. If you know you have been captured and saved by grace, then be gracious. If hope is all you have, then grab on to it with all of your might so that your children will recognize what it is to have a hopeful heart.
Strength can be spoken in many forms and languages; all of which children can hear, see, and feel. There’s the strength you find yourself holding on to when holding them in the middle of another sleepless night. There’s the strength used to put one foot in front of the other, to pick yourself up after you’ve fallen, and to cling on to when striving for a better future. There’s also the strength needed to admit when you are wrong.
Courage is needed when learning how to let go, so let go, dear mothers and fathers. Let go of bad habits that ruin your health and your hearts, relationships that are degrading and devaluing, and regrets that have become your bondage. This bondage you wrap yourself up in has a generational impact, so stop it before it clings to your children, and your children’s children.
Find your voice and speak it loud. If you favor kindness, then speak kindness loud enough for children to hear. Speak it into the darkest of places, into the hardest of hearts, and into the lives of those who need it the most. Soon, your children will speak it as well.
Yearn, dear mothers and fathers, yearn to make this world a better place for your children and your children’s children. Yearn to be the dad you never had, or the mother you wish you would have had. Yearn to be the kind of parent your children want to grow up to be. Yearn to be their example of a life lived well.
Don’t stop believing in yourself and what you mean to the little eyes, beating hearts, and little ears that look up to you. You don’t have to be a perfect parent, but you must be a present parent. Don’t ever lose sight of how much you mean to your children. You mean the world to them. You are the world to them, so don’t forget that.
Dear mothers and fathers, parenting is the hardest job you will ever have. It will test your limits, break your hearts, and exhaust your bodies, but don’t give up. Be the parent you want your children to be. Be yourself – they love who you are. Be genuine, authentic, and comfortable with who you are so that they too will feel safe in their own skin. Be strong and be courageous. Just be, mothers and fathers, be the architects, builders, soil, and artists of future fathers and mothers. Just Be.
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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.
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Today at lunchtime, my family and I sat around the table chowing down on our black-eyed peas, chips with cheese dip, shrimp cocktail, and “little smokies”. Our conversation evolved to one regarding our goals for 2015.
BARREN TO BLESSED 