Raw

This week I saw two bits in the news that broke my heart. One mother who killed her own two little children and one father who killed his baby, pregnant wife, and then himself.

When I see these kinds of stories, they seem to work themselves into my heart and mind and linger with me for quite a while. The more life I experience, the more I wonder about the true back-stories on these situations. Who were they? What little “life thing” was it that piled on top of all the big “life things” that finally caused them to go past the point of no return in their utter hopelessness?

Excuse me for a moment while I open my closet and let some of my junk spill out.

I’ve been married for ten years. During that time we’ve been through unemployment, health crisis, joy, and heartbreak.

I struggle with a chronic illness that I don’t talk about too much. I don’t know until I get up in the morning if I’m going to be able to function on this day or not. It has not only effected me physically, but mentally in the slowing of my thoughts and abilities, and of course emotionally.

I’ve been the caregiver and main worrier-in-chief through the hospitalizations and surgeries on my children and spouse (8 times in ten years), 5 pregnancies and 4 deliveries, more sleepless nights than I can ever remember.

I have a child who is walking that maze of being nuero-diverse in a world that caters to the nuero-typical.

Deaths in the family.

Harm done to those in my care that results in more anger and pain than I can describe.

Feelings of betrayal; hurts done by the hand of those I thought were friends.

Depression, feelings that I am completely lost and gone and not sure I would recognize myself if I did ever find my way out.

Of course there are many good times, times of joy. But my point is that even in my life, a life that I count as very blessed and supported, not a bad life at all, I have been pushed to the brink of very dark thoughts.

When I try to imagine facing all that life in this sinful world brings and NOT having my faith in God, NOT having the enormously supportive circle of friends that I do have, NOT having a stable (not perfect, but stable) marriage, basically NOT having all the lifelines that I do have… I simply can’t.

I think of the father who was so overwhelmed with all that he had been through facing war, and then coming home and feeling like he couldn’t handle One. More. Thing. The story I read commented that there was no evidence of financial woes or other major issues. I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t take major financial trouble or other “major” stress to push you over the edge. It just takes enough little things, normal things even, and the feeling that you are empty, spent, completely drained and turned inside out, the feeling that there is no more of you left to deal with any stress, no matter how small.

The mother who killed her two little children, a single mother, young, facing day after exhausting day with no end in sight. The article I read mentioned that she had just had an argument with her mother. I am in no way blaming the mother, heaven knows she’s probably blaming herself, poor woman, but if her mother was her only support system as she walked through this life with two very young children and she felt that she was losing that support… I can almost taste her feelings of helplessness. Of exhaustion. Of futility.

Some would say that she got herself into this by having children outside of marriage and that there is a reason that God planned for children to be born within a family and church. To you, I would have to say, “thank you Captain Obvious for that extra-special glimpse into your perfect world.” But those of who live out here know that it doesn’t always happen that way. In fact, it often doesn’t happen that way. And as I have lived and know, even when it DOES happen that way, there is still stress, overwhelming stress that when coupled with other normal life events, equals absolute exhaustion.

Something has to happen. Something must be done to extend a hand, in a real way, a way that can pierce even the darkest darkness, and reach out to those who are on borrowed strength and simply can’t take another step. I don’t know what, or who, or how. I know I’ve asked God to give me a softened heart to those who are at the edge of darkness and he has… and to be honest, now I don’t quite know what to do with it.

I know that there is a sensible side that also must be addressed, the part that says there must be a balance, that knows that people have to be reachable in order to reach them, that we have to count resources. I’m not discounting that.

I am saying that more brokenness and less accusation would light a fire under “us” to find a way to reach someone.

The people who live on that dark edge and finally fall over are not dirty or scary or necessarily evil. They are me, your sister, your friend… but they are me without you.

They are tired, mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted, utterly spent and completely vulnerable.

And that can be good news.

Don’t you imagine that a person in such desperation would be open to just about any answer? We’re talking trying to reach the thief on the cross or the woman about to be stoned vs. the rich young ruler.

Maybe if no one is taking that hand we are extending it is because we are extending it to someone who is already standing and not to someone who is losing their last grip?

Find someone, ask God to give you someone, and then extend that hand. Don't be afraid... that someone may end up looking a lot like me.

8 months?!

Wow. it has been a really long time.

I guess I dropped the poor blog in favor of that hussy facebook.

Sorry.

Remembering

http://ladyluck-stuffandnonsense.blogspot.com/2007/08/its-been-while-since-i-posted-anything.html

It has been two years now. I will say that this year, there is so much less pain, lots more remembering. TinyJ was only with us for a few weeks, but was recieved with so much love.

Hugs to all mommies who have a tiny empty spot in their hearts due to pregnancy loss.

Can I get some input?

Church...
Yeah, yeah, I know WE are the church. What I'm talking about --or would like to talk about with your help, is the church gathering that we attend.

What is church for? Is it for the believers to come and be fed, equipped and encouraged? is it for outreach to bring sinners into so they will find Jesus? What should our non-negotiables be when it come to choosing a church?
How dedicated should a "good christian" be to their church? Is it ok to go to one church for Sunday worship and to a different church for weekly meetings and activities?

I would greatly appreciate some thoughts... biblical thoughts even better.

Happy Birthday Jules!

Today I am old. I know that I am old because my baby sister is 29 today. I am older than she is, so if she is 29... Heaven only knows how old that makes me!

It seems like for women 29 is more of a milestone birthday than 30 is. We get plagued with all these thoughts about what we have accomplished and if we are really ready to enter middle age and all that other stuff. If the 20's are about finding your place in this world, then the 30's are about being secure in that place we seem to have found ourselves.

I remember when my mom was expecting Julie, I believe she told us as we were coming home from a birthday party for Denise Bazo. I don't know if that is correct, but for some reason that is what I have in my head. I do know that mom was pretty sick, especially the few months before Julie was born. I remember cooking for the family. Now, we did have some older girls from church who came in some, and I'm sure my dad (who was an EXCELLENT cook) cooked a lot, but I know that I also cooked, standing on a chair in the kitchen, producing the 2 or 3 things I knew how to do. Scrambled eggs, hotdogs, macaroni and cheese. And please let me point out that the mac and cheese was REAL, not from a box with powdered cheese. Now... the eggs may or may not have been embellished with the addition of food coloring, and it's quite likely the mac and cheese had worcstishire sauce in it (I had a rather long "stage" of doing that to nearly everything), but it worked. I can only hope that my poor bedridden mom didn't have to eat these things and that someone was slipping her real food.
But I digress, this is about Julie. Anyway, I was sent to spend the night with the Massingill family while my grandma took Mom to the hossy to get Julie out. I got a call early in the morning letting me know that "cuddles" (as we had dubbed her in utero) was born and that she was a sister. I believe that was the last time she was called cuddles. No offence Julie, but you were a bit on the long and bony side.

There are a few other memories of Julie in her babyhood that I will not share, although for the right price, you may email me for details.

I am 7 1/2 years older than Julie, so by the time she was an actual person (as opposed to a cute little toddler kid) I was heading out for college. The times we did cross paths were a bit rocky at times, but even then ( as I was a SO mature college student and she was going through her own series of "stages") I was proud of her.

The summer she was 14 we went on TLC together. This is one of those things that was a mistake but was in fact, a "God-thing" The age limit for TLC was 15. I was supposed to go, but started feeling like I really belonged at home to spend time with Julie instead of trotting off to Guatemala. On the other hand, our team was made up of several of my very dear friends and I really wanted to go. I talked to Tom (team leader) about it and he told me to go talk to Mrs. B. Well, I did. And she said yes. Although I think I found out later that she didn't realize that Julie was too young. Anyway, we went together and I really started getting to know her. She also got to spend a lot of time with some of the best people I knew and I know that it was a very positive thing for her to get to know them.

I have so many other memories I could share, but that wasn't what I was intending to write about.
Julie, I have been in awe of you since you were a kid. We are so very different, in nearly every way, and in you I see so many things that I admire and wish I could be. You march to your own drum (forget the different drummer, you just play your own darn drum), you are strong, you stick up for the underdog, you see the worst in people but continually have faith in the best. You make your own rules and throw convention out the window. You are fiercely loyal. You are honest.... painfully so. I'd never want to meet you in a dark alley, but can't think of anyone I'd rather have beside me if I ever had to go down one myself. You ARE the caped avenger. You are an amazing friend, you give and give and give again. You have become an outstanding daughter (hmm, can I say that seeing as how I'm just a bystander and not the actual mother?) and I'm so proud of you.

You have made a place for yourself in your career. You have enough confidence to get the job done and enough humility to never stop learning more. I hope that the people who work beside you every day realize how fortunate they are to be around such an excellent human bean as you are. My prayer for you on this birthday is that you would find the same confidence in your "Julie" life as you have in your "medic" life. You knew even before you got out of high school what you wanted to become and you have done it. My challenge for you on this birthday is for you now to know who you want to become... and do it. My assurance for you on this birthday is that you are surrounded by people who love you and believe in you and are so stinkin' proud of you that we can hardly talk about you without sounding cheesy.

I love you Spotser, Happy 29th Birthday.

Fear is a bad word?

Warning: Adult content, if your kids were just looking over your shoulder seeing the cute pictures, now is the time to have them go do something else.

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On a message board I frequent, many of the moms recently got into a discussion about the things our kids face today, specifically becoming sexually active in lower grades, down to 5-6th grades, and also the increasing popularity of having group slumber parties that are expressly for having same-gender sex. I don't even need to explain my stand on all of that, but what really got me thinking were the comments about how inevitable it is and how all we can do is talk to our kids and hope they will be open with us and make good mature choices, blah blah blah.

Here's the deal. I don't think that even in this current world (which I admit freely is far worse then when I was a child/teen 20+ years ago) that this type of thing is inevitable! I refuse to accept that. However, I also know that if their plan consists of talking and hoping, they are right. Let me be blunt. I was not a sexually active teen. In fact, I married so late, I was hardly a sexually active 20-something. In my case, it wasn't because of talking and hoping. It was because instilled deep within my very being, there was the sure and certain knowledge of being immediately struck down by God and the fact that no matter if I was 15 or 25, my Mother would somehow KNOW.
What I'm saying is that trying to reason with hormones is a losing battle. You can "know" all about STDs, you can "know" about pregnancy, you can "know" about the emotional ramifications...but that isn't necessarily going to do the trick.

Again, back to that discussion. There were a few comments about how they were going to give their children "all the information" so they could make "right decisions" and not rely on Bible-thumping or fear.
That sounds great doesn't it?

Let's apply that to, oh, a 2 year old. "Honey, this is an electric outlet. I know you are very curious and your curiosity is your strongest drive right now, but I want to let you know all the information so you can be smart." You would then procede to tell him about electricity, how good and powerful it is, but how it must be kept in wires and only accessed properly. You would tell him of the dangers and even how it could kill him. (so far so good, right?) You finish off by telling him that if he really must stick a hairpin in the outlet to please use these insulated gloves and if he ever has any more questions, to come have another talk with you.

I do of course realize that the above is exaggerated. But come ON... you know what my kids know about electricity? that it is BAD! HOT! NO! OWIE! that if you even go close to an outlet or a plug Mommy materializes out of thin air and SWATS that hand.
Perhaps I go too far because now when the older two are big enough that I might actually tell them to go plug this or that in, they stare at me as though I just told them to drink poison and remind me that they are NOT ALLOWED to even THINK of touching a power plug!
Now, since Jeff is an electrical engineer, they do know a bit about the actual workings of it, but allow me to lay it out plainly; It is NOT their knowledge about the power and potential of electic current that keeps them conditioned to not touch it, it is their FEAR.

Personally, I like that fear. That fear kept them alive long enough to reach the age where they CAN learn about AC/DC and wattage and amperage and voltage.

I'm not advocating that we don't educate our children about sex. I am saying that just knowing the facts isn't enough to keep them safe (and by safe, I mean abstinence). The drive is far stronger than the ability to reason. When faced with those choices, they need enough good old fashioned FEAR to keep them from getting into the place of temptation.

I've heard people say that they don't want their children to obey out of fear but out of love and respect.

Well Duh.

Brilliant deduction there.

Unfortunately, humans are selfish beings, must be a design flaw, take it up with God. In the meantime understand this; a respect that has enough weight to overcome selfish urges takes a while to grow and a certain amount of maturity to develop. I love (and as far as I can remember have always loved her) my mother. However, the deep respect and honor for her developed along the way, and dare I say, is still growing? If my obedience to her was based on my ability to respect her and defer to her wisdom, I wouldn't have obeyed her until I was about 23. That's a bit too late. I'm talking about a fear that is a percursor to respect and honor, a fear that keeps us within the walls, so to speak, until we are mature enough to love the walls and what they protect us from.

When and why did fear develop such a bad rep? You don't think it could be part of a diabolical plan to keep us from getting wisdom... nah, surely the enemy of our souls wouldn't do that, would he?

Personally, I think bit of the right kind of fear is a great thing. And I plan on using it to protect my kids from things far more dangerous than the electric outlets.

**disclaimer. I have not yet raised my children to this age. I am speaking from experience of a child that this worked with, not as a parent who has done it successfully.

Pictures April/May

so I guess you need to blame FaceBook for the utter lack of attention shown to my blog recently. Sorry.
Jonny with Mom-mom (my mom) during our visit there in April. They were pretty fond of each other.

We visited Lazy5 Ranch while in NC, it was our second time but Jeff's first time. He greatly enjoyed it, especially the cows.

Recent pictures of Jonny. He is 8 months old now, hard to believe. He has a tooth, he can clap, he pulls up and then holds on with just one hand. Joyana, apparently feeling just fabulous!

Mr. Thoughtful. What does go on in that little brain?

This horse has seen better days, but they still enjoy it.

Best buds

For Mother's Day I asked to go strawberry picking. Here are my helpers smashing berries to make jam.

We got a little over 17 lbs.