Lens

 It’s weird when the eyesight starts to go. You have to wait and look at the menu, your eyes look all crazy when you put on the readers. But your friends are doing it and you joke and you laugh about it, and it’s all good. What do you expect, you’re 49. 

And it’s also weird when your sister, much younger and many times mistaken as your daughter, tells you that 49 seems old. Maybe it is. I’m  warming up to it, as it’s better than the alternative. 

And today I ate cottage cheese with salt and vinegar potato chips on top and couldn’t wait to tell someone. It was magic and maybe sad, but I’m 49, I don’t care. 

It’s true what they say about not giving F’s as you age, if only we could gift it to our kids a tad younger and spare them some heartache. Although, the heartache builds the character, so maybe they shouldn’t be spared? Whatever, I don’t know. 

And as the wine sets in, I cannot believe I was born here, raised here, loved here and I can pass that onto my kids by the grace of community friends and family. What is happening to families in this world is unfathomable, and it’s weird that I just get to go to dinner on a Monday and Target on Tuesday and a football game on Saturday.  Why do I get to do those things while so many suffer? 

I've found myself asking the “why’s” a lot more and the “wtaf”s a whole lot more. And although I don’t have answers to things I pray for, or solutions to things I beg for; I have more love than I dreamed of being possible. If you are reading this, you have given me and my family that love, and I will pass it on this 49th year and all that may come.  ❤️

                                                        Yes, it's a problem, mind your business

The worst

I guess I am just surprised that we are surprised?  Are we really?  A rude, belligerent, narcissistic, shell of a man is going to be on a national stage and do something respectable, tolerable, relatable-even coherent?  

Has he ever?  

Would he ever?

Is he capable?

Who do we think this man is?

Why would we ever put faith in a person that has not shown a shred of human decency in the short, albeit, torturous time he has been President?  ((not to mention his lifetime of cheating, fraud, racism, sexism (all the isms) and manipulation))

I am struggling. I cannot help but ask myself what kind of person would support this man?  I know it is not fair, I know it is wrong.  I should not judge. But how???? 

How do we try and and raise humble, respectful, honorable children in the wake of this?  Of course it starts at home, so how does one explain him to their children?  What does one say about the soulless to their sensitive, impressionable sons? And heaven forbid, what does one say to their strong, ever-questioning daughters?

Damn, he makes it so difficult not to throw things, question everything you thought you knew and believed in.  He is that vile. He is that repugnant. 

Unlike our current President, I have reason, empathy, compassion, a thought process. And I used to believe that people that supported him did too, that maybe they voted for party or misguided principle rather than on facts. Yes, I know they believe me naive, and I cannot reconcile that they can't see what I so clearly do.  Yet, I understand reluctantly, they see me the exactly the same way.  I so heartbreakingly understand that many think I am the one who just doesn't "get it". 

 Disheartening.

And then it hit me last night that this is more about us than it is him.....so I ask, where will you stand in history?  What story will you tell?

I just cannot grasp the possibility that he would be reelected, but I couldn't have imagined he would be elected in the first place. Here we are. 

What does one do with this rage? I guess I will do the only thing I can do. 

Vote.

                                                                            

Hope

A couple of years ago, my former pastor and friend, Terry Webster, asked if I would contribute to his sermon, from a mother's perspective. He was gracious enough to share it in it's entirety.  I am sharing it with you because I believe hope, faith and love hold true-then, now, and forever. Happy Easter! He is risen indeed. 

Easter Sunday Sermon

April 1, 2018

‘The Unfinished Gospel’

The long process of cleaning out all of my stuff has slowly begun.  After all of these years, I have a lot of things tucked away that need to be dealt with. One of the things I have discovered is that after all these years, I only have 4 sermons that I have saved. I know that is a bit of a disappointment for everyone who were really looking forward to me putting them into a book that you could buy in a few months. Sorry about that. One of these sermons was the very first one I ever preached, which surprisingly is really bad. A second one was part of a series that was used when a previous church built a new facility. The third was the Sunday after September 11, 2001 and the 4^th?  Well, you get to hear it today. It is one that is really special because part of it was written by one of our folks here at FPC.  So here goes. If you remember it, I am really impressed. If not, then it is new to you. So here goes.

‘The first thing the world noticed about the early Christian was that they ate together’.  So begins Rachel Held Evans words on communion in her book ‘Searching for Sunday.’ It is an amazing book about her journey on loving, leaving, and finding Church.  These words aren’t too surprising because for the early Christians because the life of Jesus-his death and resurrection, changed everything in their lives, so men and women, slave and free, rich and poor, Jew and Gentile gathered to eat.

The story of the resurrection is amazing, so amazing that apparently Mark couldn’t find the words to describe it. This morning we hear Marks gospel story, the original 8 verses he wrote to tell about what happened on that Sunday morning. As we heard Mary Claire read these words, the main thing you may have  noticed is that Mark’s story just sort of ends.  Really, it’s not a great ending. I can understand the urge to fix it-the rest of the verses in chapter 16 were added later by well meaning people hoping to sync it up a bit more with the other gospels, maybe to give it more of a victorious feel. And I can understand why these extra words were added. Because while Mark starts out in the usual fashion, its early Sunday morning, it’s still dark, the women are going to the tomb to tend to Jesus’ body, the stone is rolled away, they hear the word that Jesus has been raised, they are sent back to tell-Mark seems to botch the ending completely with his last words…’so they went out and fled the tomb, for terror and amazement has seized them, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.’  Do you see what I mean? It’s the only resurrection story in the Bible where Jesus never actually makes an appearance. And then these women disciples fail at what the young man tells them to do.  This is all pretty surprising. They have been told not to be afraid—words that the Biblical code words for ‘good news is coming’—but it doesn’t happen for them. All they do is run off and hide, afraid, fleeing the tomb and saying absolutely nothing to anyone.  And there you have it, a resurrection story scene without Jesus that seems to end in failure.

So what is going on with Mark? To be honest, I thought for the longest time that he just wasn’t very good with endings. But the more I read this, the more I realize the genius and beauty of what Mark is up to.  Instead of leaving the gospel story where it is, Mark does something really remarkable—he lets us wonder. He lets us think. He lets us finish the story. Mark writes this very open ended gospel that seems to end in failure precisely to place the burden of responsibility for telling the good news squarely on our shoulders. Mark isn’t terrible at endings, it turns out-Mark is rather brilliant, and by telling the gospel this way, Mark invites us-the disciples, the early church, you and me-into the story, to pick up where the story left off and to tell the good news of Jesus.

So that got me thinking. What can we do, what can you and I do to continue what Mark started? What did these women do?  What did the disciples do? And for some reason, my mind stated wondering to a couple of things…Mary, the mother of Jesus, and a family wedding.  So, I sought out an expert-one of our moms- Mary Claire Brass. You may not know that along with being a great mom, Mary Claire is also an amazing blogger.

Now, no one could ever fully grasp what Mary went through—seeing her son go through all of the horror she witnessed. What did she do?  So I asked Mary Claire to put herself—as a mom—and see all of this through her eyes, through the eyes of Jesus’ mother.  And her words are “A Mothers Hope”

A Mother's hope

She lay in deafening silence. Her heart was empty, broken. Her mind raced-the thoughts came without warning. He was bad, wrong, evil. He didn't deserve to be here in the first place, he's wasn't good enough. These were the words of others, but they were infiltrating her brain as if they were her own. She shook her head to rid herself of the doubt. It had been months, but the uncertainty still crept in.

What she knew, what she reached for was what he meant to her. But not just her-what he meant to countless others-those he touched, those he came close to, those he loved without condition, those he healed, those who believed. Her will started to come back and she lifted herself to her knees.  It was still too much. The sobs came like a flood and she let them come so she could release the doubt, the fear. She embraced the condemnation of others so she could then send it away, it wasn't hers to keep. She decided right then she would love like he loved, forgive like he forgave, stand like he stood-with the weak, the poor, the broken, the sick. All as one, all as equal. How could she start?  How could she heal? She reached deep within her soul or what she felt was left of it and decided bringing people together would be the only way. For the people who loved, doubted, even hated Him to come to eat and drink surrounded by his spirit, brought together by love.  Love would be the only way for so many to sit down as one.  She hadn't sunk so deep that she had forgotten that love was the only thing that outlives us all, the only thing that really mattered.  And so she decided, people would come together for communion to remember and celebrate his sacrifice. His life for each of theirs-his life, his death, and ultimately his resurrection.  And in this decision she was able to stand and raise her arms wide open to allow herself to be filled back up again. Filled with all of the things that her son was to her-belief, honor, love, forgiveness.  She would replace grief with determination. Determined he'd be remembered through her eyes, through her actions, through his meal. Who she knew him to be. Her heart became full. For once again when she was totally lost, she was able to pick herself back up and open her heart. And she became filled with something she thought she had lost when she lost him. She was filled with hope. 

‘For the people who loved, doubted, even hated Jesus to come together and eat and drink surrounded by His spirit brought together by love’

Pretty amazing, isn’t it. To bring people together around a table because God knows what can happen, what will happen, when we break bread together.  And this brings me to a wedding. A few years ago, Marsha and I headed off to Austin Texas for the wedding of my nephew Stephen to Elisabeth. Most of us hadn’t met her, but were really looking forward to this opportunity, not only to meet her, but also to join together in this celebration of the covenant of marriage. And it was great to meet Elisabeth, and how do I describe her. Well, there is lot about her that some might not appreciate.  She is a lovely young woman, wild red hair, body art, multiple piercings, wildly liberal, divorced, wants nothing to do with God, and worse of all, a huge fan of the University of Texas.  But she loves my nephew, and love overlooks a lot, doesn’t it.  Well, after the wedding in the park that they wanted, we all gathered for a reception at a combined yoga studio/art museum, one of their favorite places.

And as we gathered around this table, there was this family, my family. There is one sister in law, a widow, the grooms mother, who is a self ordained Pentecostal minister who uses her religion to hurt others.  My brother, who isn’t sure what he believes about God anymore as he has watched his wife struggle in her 10^th year of dealing with cancer that has nearly bankrupted them. Sadly and strangely, it is the same cancer that hit the Webster house up here in Kentucky.  Over in the corner is a nephew, who is still struggling with the effects of some poor decisions he made a few years back-decisions that have changed his life forever.  There was my sister and her husband and their 3 kids, who still miss and grieve the death of their oldest daughter Sara many years ago when she was 15. And there was my oldest sister, who pretty much embodies everything good and holy, but who wasn’t able to marry her partner because of the state she lives in.

The Webster clan is an opinionated, loud, stubborn, arguing group of people. But here we were, with all of our flaws, and our needs, and our struggles, adding one more chair around the dinner table, welcoming one more person to the family.

And as I was sitting there, breaking bread with my family, I started to see the real power of the words that Mary Claire wrote, and what the resurrection and the table are all about.  It is in the midst of the brokenness, our disunity, our wounds, and our joys and love, that God brought Jesus back. Like those women, we don’t really understand what happened on that Sunday morning, we might never fully understand, we might even run away, but we gather to remember, to celebrate, to break bread, to pull up some more chairs and allow more people to be welcomes to God’s table. 

Easter is a celebration for the broken, for the questioning, for the doubting, for the scared, for those who want to run away and for those who are certain, who have no questions, who have it all together.  And that is the way that you and I can finish the story that Mark started. We open our arms, we pull up another chair, we welcome those we love, and those we don’t, and we share in this amazing gift of resurrection and of the table.

As Rachel Evans writes, ‘the gospel doesn’t need a coalition devoted to keeping the wrong people out. It needs a family of sinners, saved by grace, committed to tearing down walls, throwing open doors, and shouting ‘Welcome! There is bread! There is wine! Come eat with us and talk!’ This isn’t a kingdom for the worthy, it is a kingdom for the hungry. As we live in this Easter moment, we are the church speaking the word of God saying ‘I’m throwing a banquet, all those mismatched, messed up people are invited. Come and eat!’  Hmm. It is just like a family pulling an extra seat at the wedding banquet.

Friends, Easter is a celebration of the feast of God. It is God welcoming us to the table. When Jesus wanted to explain what his death and resurrection was all about, he didn’t give a theory. He didn’t give his followers a set of scriptural texts. He just gave them a meal around a table. Today we join together to discover Jesus as we sit around the table and break bread, here at this table, and also as you sit at table with your family or with friends every day.

Dear Brain

I am peace.
Worry overwhelms me, anxiety overtakes me, life exhausts me.
I have gratitude.
I am broken longing to be whole.
I have love.
I am alone. I know to be kind to the one and only body I have.
I make poor decisions trying to destroy it.
I have the best of friends.
I can be hateful.
I am a forgiving soul.
I gossip and have guilt.
I am working to be more authentically myself.
I hide who I truly am.
I want the very best for my kids and for them to be happy.
I chipped away at their soul just yesterday.
I read trying to get better, be better, know better to do better.
I wasted hours binge watching violence.
I have joy.
I am filled with rage.
I am inspired.
Life is exhausting.
Social media makes me feel connected.
Twitter causes me rage.
I wrote down my goals.
I haven't made a move on any of them in years.
I am forever grateful for this amazing life.
Why is this happening to me?
I am confident.
What in the world is my purpose?
I am self aware.
Everyone is against me.
I laugh everyday.
Crying is easier.
I live an abundant life.
Why is there never enough?
I am faithful.
Doubt consumes me.
I am honest and caring.
Fear and resentment overshadow my decisions.
I am just like you.
You have no idea what my life it like.
I have empathy.
What is wrong with those people?

How can I be all of these people locked inside this grey spongy thing? Why can't I just be the best version, instead of sinking to the lowest common denominator? What is it that makes this self sabotage possible?  Brain, I need your help. I need you to get on board with what my higher potential is. I need you to get out of my way. I will not surrender to your neurosis. My spirit will win.


I am a work in progress

I have a choice

I will live in truth

I am human

I am love

Sorry, it is.

Sorry, it is about politics, but maybe not how you might think-so please, read on.

I have to ask: when was the last time you read a political post and thought something awful about the person that said/shared it if it was a differing opinion than your own?  I know, like 10 seconds ago. Me too, and I tired of it. These ridiculous negative thoughts that are barraging my brain when I read these posts are about and from real people, my supposed "friends" on Facebook.  Of course, I could block or unfriend, but who wants a feed that is all the same views and opinions as your own?  Admit it or not, we all like to peek at what the "other side" is talking about.  And that is perfectly normal. What has gotten out of hand is the name calling,and hateful spewing of awfulness. I know-newsflash. But we are still engaging. And, unfortunately, I am not talking about the candidates.  We need to realize we WILL NOT change someone's opinion or mind on FB about Hillary or Donald.  That ship has sailed. And seriously do we really think that those that may be undecided are going to be swayed by the lunatic (there I go) who spews rage and hatred and calls those that don't agree with them uninformed, stupid, or moronic? And that is the nice name calling. Again, I am not talking about the candidates here and it happening on both sides. We are acting like toddlers that say, "mom, mom, mom, mom and when she won't respond, because she might be going to the bathroom (the nerve), talking on the phone (the audacity), working (NO!) so the little angels leave a gallon of ice cream under the bed, an open liter of Coke sideways on the steps, a full box of cereal strewn about the living room (Just my house? Oh well, you get the point.)

And to what end? How can we expect more from our candidates and in turn ourselves when we are just as guilty of acting like spoiled children?  The only obvious difference-the people in my above example ARE spoiled children. My own.......

Anyway,

Can we not take a moment and step back and think about from where people's posts and points of view are coming?

Their perspective.

Just as I cannot form an opinion from the perspective of any American mother whose lost a child in senseless gunfire, a parent grieving a mentally ill child who took others' lives, a single mom working so hard for her children and never getting ahead, an immigrant with a family trying build a life in America, any parent who has lost a child to war, a business owner struggling to keep their head above water, those with children that are suffering from devastating illnesses, a military veteran struggling with PTSD-I cannot relate and form a political view from their perspective just as they cannot form one from a mother of two special needs kids (unless of course, they have two special needs kids, but you get my point). What I can do is try and understand and empathize why they may have to come support the candidate they have instead of figuring they are just an idiot who needs to be "informed".

I understand we are passionate about our wonderful country and her future. We all want a safe America where our kids can get the best possible education. We all want our police officers to be protected and feel safe and not questioned when protecting us.  We all want our military to feel appreciated and honored and have all the support and opportunities available after they have served. We all want color, religion and gender to go unseen and opportunities to be for all. We all feel that opiate and heroin addiction are stealing lives at an alarming rate and more must be done. We all want healthcare for the poor and sick. We ALL want radical terrorists from home and abroad destroyed.
And we should never give up on these dreams and goals, no matter what.
Yes, we have different ways of getting there, but how does name calling and hate help the cause that we all want?  How can we expect something from our candidates (and our children for that matter) that we are unwilling to display ourselves?  Clearly, we need to step up and be the example.

Next time I read a post that is so sick it makes me sick, I am going to take a huge breath and think thoughts of gratitude and love. I am going to put goodness into the FB universe instead of rage.  I won't respond because no attention should be called to it. (ignore it, see toddler example).  I will think respectfully of their opinion even if I respectfully disagree.  I will not engage in hateful banter and I will mind my mind. I will choose to rise above it because that is who I am or at the very least who I am striving to be. I am going to gain some perspective.
It's not a definitive solution, but it's a start.

Just think, I was going to name this blog, "don't be a dick." Oh, the irony.

And you?

If I were a real writer, I would certainly consider my absence writer's block. It's not as if nothing has happened. Geez, since last you heard from me we're down 2 IPads  1 mini, 2 IPhones and countless toys that just can't handle "water weight". And the tales were long and funny and not always Johnny in his constant pursuit of destruction (I washed an IPAD mini in a dirty sheets load), but I was thinking that maybe it was too much for me and for others and maybe It was self-serving and maybe it was just attention seeking. And probably it was both of those things, I'm not sure.  And then I started pursuing a passion and that has flourished, but my need to connect and want friends and readers to "get us"  is still a fire inside me, so today I'm back and I'll tackle this post as a sign of hope and optimism in an otherwise dark world.  

And this is a funny one for me because (see above and previous posts) much of what I write is drenched in-maybe wine sweat-probably in sarcasm. So I don't always come across as the eternal optimist, but rather the consummate worrier.  Case in point- last night, waiting for my 11 year-old to take my spot in bed at 4 am, I started to do that thing where every single thing in your life becomes uber important. From forgetting paper towels at Target to the list of questions for the Neurologist you never wrote down to the forever of caring for these kids and how, how, how and who, who, who and the always, how much, much much? 

And didn't I blink and my once 4 year-old in my bed is now 11 year-old in my bed and will probably be my 22 year-old in my bed and the then will Elizabeth want to be in my bed??? And how and when and how long? And will Jake spend time with them, look after them, make sure they are unharmed, safe, loved-will it be too much? 

And my breathing sped and my attractive back sweat kicked in (I sleep in basically a snow suit so that could've contributed) and then I can't stop thinking of how long 

they'll need me and my mom and my dad and thank goodness Adam doesn't drink and eats right so he'll live forever but what if his next wife doesn't love our kids as much and on and on and on. 

But then I'll breathe and calm my brain, sometimes I'll sleep for another hour-many other times I won't.  But of course, I so get it, there are so many other Mothers in is world that have so much more to worry about (hunger, illness, disease, war, exclusion). So I'll scold myself for my selfishness. Then I will do some breathing exercises, get a huge glass of water and vow to be better at this tomorrow. And by better I mean, more accepting, more tolerant, more loving, more positive, more patient, more forgiving, more sober-just a little more. I do know this, I will never stop trying.

Anyway, how have you been ;)? 

Facebook reminded me this was 7 years ago! Wow, and probably the last time they were photographed together!

A Mother's Hope

Recently I was shocked and humbled when my minister asked me to write something for Easter Sunday (imagine!). We talked through some ideas and scripture he was planning on using for the service.  I didn't tell anyone (even Adam) that I wrote something in case it was terrible and he didn't use it (still working on confidence issues).  Anyway, he did use it (thanks Terry :))  I hope the congregation felt what I was feeling when I wrote it.  Feeling thankful on this Easter Sunday.

She lay in deafening silence. Her heart was empty, broken. Her mind raced-the thoughts came without warning. He was bad, wrong, evil. He didn't deserve to be here in the first place, he's wasn't good enough. These were the words of others, but they were infiltrating her brain as if they were her own. She shook her head to rid herself of the doubt. It had been months, but the uncertainty still crept in.

What she knew, what she reached for was what he meant to her. But not just her-what he meant to countless others-those he touched, those he came close to, those he loved without condition, those he healed, those who believed. Her will started to come back and she lifted herself to her knees. It was still too much. The sobs came like a flood and she let them come so she could release the doubt, the fear. She embraced the condemnation of others so she could then send it away, it wasn't hers to keep. She decided right then she would love like he loved, forgive like he forgave, stand like he stood-with the weak, the poor, the broken, the sick. All as one, all as equal. How could she start? How could she heal? She reached deep within her soul or what she felt was left of it and decided bringing people together would be the only way. For the people who loved, doubted, even hated Him to come to eat and drink surrounded by his spirit, brought together by love. Love would be the only way for so many to sit down as one. She hadn't sunk so deep that she had forgotten that love was the only thing that outlives us all, the only thing that really mattered. And so she decided, people would come together for communion to remember and celebrate his sacrifice. His life for each of theirs-his life, his death, and ultimately his resurrection. And in this decision she was able to stand and raise her arms wide open to allow herself to be filled back up again. Filled with all of the things that her son was to her-belief, honor, love, forgiveness.  She would replace grief with determination. Determined he'd be remembered through her eyes. Who she knew him to be. Her heart became full. For once again when she was totally lost, she was able to pick herself back up and open her heart. And she became filled with something she thought she had lost when she lost him. She was filled with hope. 

Bitter - 1 Mary - 0

And if I have to hear the Sports Center loop one more time about the younger than I am Peyton Manning being old, someone or something, likely the tv, is going to get hurt

And just when I am going to be mom of the year by making pizza, curly fries and fish sticks for prelunch (because minutes are decades on snow days, so prelunch starts anytime between 9:00-11:30 am) my twelve year-old asks for apples and peanut butter, I hate him and his discipline. And I hate his father who instilled all of those good habits. Where is his father anyway?  Oh, yeah, work. Whatever.

And if that same twelve year-old bounces the basketball on my already warped and failing floors one more time, things are going to get bad-especially for him. 

And when that exact same twelve year-old says he's glad it's a snow day because school is just a bunch of old people talking and you don't learn anything anyway, I shouldn't respond, "well it's a good thing you're going straight to the NBA from high school then," when it's probably the only conversation I've had with him this week and sarcasm is lost on him anyway

And if my 10 year-old son sits on my lap when I am on the toilet one more time to read Curious George-I may cry (check that box) 

And if that same son slams the doors over and over again in frustration from the mere sound of his sister's voice one more time my head might explode

And if that same son crushes one more piece of fruit in my bed or in my hair, I am going to scream
And if that exact same son doesn't get off the bed while I am trying to make it, ha-that was to see if you were still reading, of course I wasn't making the bed.  Silly. 

And if my daughter cries when I leave the room just to tend to the aforementioned slamming and fruit debacle, I might lose my shit (she doesn't really even like me that much, I'm just the only option at the moment)

And if that same daughter pulls everything out of the junk drawers (yes, they are all junk drawers) and chews up paper one more time, I might let her choke on it (oh come on-just kidding!) 

And if that exact same daughter puts one more Lego, binty, small object in my coffee cup one more time, I'll probably do nothing-just make another new cup. 

I swear I am never making it to real  lunch. (Anytime after 11:30 am) 

I did, in fact, make it to "real" lunch.....here's the proof

I don't know why she puts items in open containers,
I think she thinks she is cleaning up :)

And if that moment arrives, as it always does-that I realize that I get to have these moments-because I am alive and capable and healthy. And that I need to embrace these moments. Not because they are fleeting, because in my world they are likely forever. But because I can experience them. It shouldn't be that one of my dearest friend's sister is lying in a  hospital bed fighting for her life to force me to get to the point where I appreciate what I have right now, today. I want to have a grateful heart all the time. (Add that to the long list of to-dos). Deep sigh and breath. 

I need to take a step back, get out of my own head. I need to play when I want to collapse, sing when I want to scream, read when I want to rest, breathe when I want to suffocate, drink when I want to drink (you knew that was coming) and repeat because today I can-and for no other reason than that.

****Please pray for Darcy Patton Nayler, she is my friend Laura Patton's sister.  She needs positive thoughts and prayers!!  She is literally fighting for her life, makes everything else seem ridiculous, doesn't it?

Prayer

Please pray

Even if you haven't prayed before

Even if you don't believe in its power

Even if you don't have the time

Please pray

Because children need a Mother 

Because Mothers shouldn't get cancer or life threatening illnesses

Because it is the right thing to do

Because it causes no harm, and could do a world of good

Because it's about someone else

Because it is positive

Because it is for a Mother, sister, daughter, and friend

If you took a moment to read this, take the next to pray for Darcy Patton Nayler's strength, her healing, her family, her life. 

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/darcypattonnayler/journal/view/id/54f3ea7d4db9219b01cf3bdd

Thank you. 

My Heart's Song

So definitely one of the scariest or maybe most worrisome things about raising a child/children (in my case) with special needs is if they really understand what you are trying to communicate to them.  How or are they processing information and how much? What are they thinking about? What if something happens to them or someone hurts them and they can't tell me?  What do they love, what do they hate, what bothers them, what delights them? As a mother, am I frustrated or distracted too much?  What more do they need?  How or where do I start? Who needs what more?  Off the subject but equally as heartwrenching, do they know how much I love them? Do I tell them or show them enough? Certainly you want them to reciprocate that love, but you can't always get what you want! These questions plague my middle of the night thoughts. But then, as with everything in life, there are glimmers of hope that sneak up on me all the time. A few weeks ago Johnny was singing in the back seat with his IPAD and I immediately recognized the songs.  I used to sing the Dixie Chicks song "Lullaby" years ago when the kids were babies/toddlers before they went to bed.  I love all things Dixie Chicks, but especially this song, and it sounds like he was listening!

Ok, so he has to do a couple other Dixie Chicks songs to warm up, and he picks his nose and bangs his head with his fish, and I can't focus on his face because if he sees me videoing he immediately stops singing, and he tries to open the door when the car is moving-oh whatever,  I hope it makes you smile :)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZE-mkQIewg&feature=youtu.be

"Lullaby" lyrics that he is singing at the end of the video:
They didn't have you where I come from
Never knew the best was yet to come
Life began when I saw your face
And I hear your laugh like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up

I slip in bed when you're asleep
To hold you close and feel your breath on me
Tomorrow there'll be so much to do
So tonight I'll drift in a dream with you

It is she

Elizabeth had an MRI last week and it was an incredibly long day. She has areas in her brain that need to be monitored because they have always been"abnormal" or "diseased".  We have to make sure those areas do not grow. She came out of it sick and weak and looking at me as if to ask, "why would you let them do that to me-again!?" However, even coming out of sedation, her bright personality shone through.  I am in constant awe of her strength. These were my thoughts as I watched her drift off and go in for her scan. 

Courtesy of Aunt Sarah

She is determined

She is strong 

She is attitude

She is kind

She is willful

She is bright

She is silly 

She is sweet

She is bold

She is brave

She is vulnerable

She is warm

She is mine

She is Elizabeth. 

Good news-MRI stable. 

Side note-In case you were wondering, and maybe you weren't, but my posts have been super short for two reasons 1.) my brain is mush in the summertime  2.) my computer is still broken!

Anyway,  I hope to be back with more content soon :)! But for now it appears I can only write in adjectives! 

Stay tuned though, we had a no pants extravaganza at Rossford Park I have to tell you about, that will no doubt make you feel like a better parent!

Gifted

A mentor

A friend

A companion
A humanitarian

A leader

A listener

A parent

A developer 

A protector

A guide 

An example

An inspiration

An individual

A hand to hold

A shoulder to lean on

A loving heart.......

                                                                                 A Teacher

John and Elizabeth have been going to an enrichment class this week with their special education teacher and an aide in their classroom. You could tell how much the kids love and miss them. These women are amazing! Everything they stand for makes my heart soar. Teachers truly amaze me! 

What Women Want Wednesday

Women want.......

 Fitness not to be as elusive as the Loch ness

 The Chick-fil-a line to be shorter, although it is fascinating how quickly it goes

The dishes to be done, preferably by someone else

Sleep

One chin

Wine not to have calories

Cellulite cream that keeps it promise (and eye cream, and fine line cream, oh and under eye circle cream.....)

Sunshine

Chocolate and chips at the ready

Never to be told "no"

To laugh......often

For no child to ever be hungry or suffer

Friendships, fun, flowers (in that order)

To hear an old school Bon Jovi, Poison, or Def Leopard song spontaneously on the radio once a day (no? just me, I guess)

Did I mention sleep..........

Ah yes, and this of course!

Somewhere In Between

Twelve Reasons why we love our almost teenagers, but don't always like them so much.............

1.) You say "I love you," he mumbles something and then "ya too." Ah, heartwarming

2.) His unbridled rage can make you want to hug, hit, and run away from him all at the same time.

(I have no idea where that rage comes from, by the way ;))

3.) He can literally hate and love the very same thing within seconds, and how dare you not know why?

4.) He tightens when you try and hug or kiss him, but turns into a big softy at bedtime, which is also now your bedtime and ironically the only time he wants affection and you desperately just want to sleep!

5.) His interests are Sports, sports, oh, and sports

6.) Just when you thought you had perfected the art of sarcasm, you realize you have nothing on the smartass mouth of a twelve year-old

7.) Don't even bring up the opposite sex, it is so clearly none of your business

8.) You see yourself in the eye roll and you want to smack yourself (and him) in the face and simultaneously apologize to your own Mother

9.) You realize it might be time for both of you to be seeing a therapist

10.) Hormones

11.) You thought drama was reserved for 12 year-old girls. Epic mistake.

12.) He doesn't need you as much, but you still want him to :(

Happy Birthday to my sweet, smart, funny, talented, frustrating, infuriating, crazy, wouldn't trade him for the world (most days), one and only-Jacob Alexander Brass

4 weeks

12 years

Time, what have you done to me?

Birds chirping, sunlight, walking the dog, playing outside with the kids-all wonderfully spectacular signs of Spring. Spring also brings birthdays for both my boys, my brother-in-law and my nephew. So much to celebrate!  Recently my mother-in-law sent an email about their upcoming visit to celebrate aforementioned birthdays and said she is refusing to face the fact she has a son turning 40. Even though I am turning 40 this year as well, I had to read her comment again and again. How could this be, that her first born is turning 40? I totally get it though, I am freaked out about having a preteen son so having a child turn 40 would be so crazy! I guess that feeling never goes away. Plus, she and my father-in-law are fit and active and travel and have a fabulous life, and I think of them as being 50ish!  I know-not possible-she didn't have her first baby at ten. You know how you feel when you haven't seen an acquaintance's kids for awhile and you remember them toddling around and then you run into those same kids and they have braces and are 4 inches taller than you, its probably like that. The passage of time smacks you right in the face. It certainly makes me want to stop time and not in a botox kind-of way (not that there's anything wrong with that), just to slow things down a bit.  My sisters and I were talking about it last weekend. The days, weeks, years are flying by.  I know I have complained relentlessly all winter about the snow days being endless, and no doubt they were loooooong, but where are the years going? I realize you can't have it both ways, make the days go fast, but the years slow down. Actually, you cannot have it either way now that I think about it. :/
I have to be careful when reflecting on these moments, this can be a slippery slope for me. It is critical to my personal growth  sanity, not to compare my life with others, especially in situations when others talk about their kids growing up, going to college, marrying, moving out-because it sometimes makes my own reality seem daunting. Why? Because Adam and I may never be "empty nester's" or grandparents or alone again....ever. And that has to be ok, really it has to be better than ok. In fact, it has to be a life to look forward to.  Even if John and Elizabeth's future may be very different from the norm- it certainly matters just as much. It is something to look forward to in the way they change a person's perspective on life or how their laugh makes someone's day.  The way when they master a task making even the tiniest milestone worth celebrating. The way that quitting is a concept that will never occur to them.  The way they have taught a very once selfish mom to understand loving someone so much more than she ever thought possible.They way they have made me realize that as I age, I am better able to stop and appreciate my life for what is, them for who they are. That even though they are not changing like most children are or have or will, they are still changing and learning and growing. Differently yes, but beautifully all the same.

I know I have mentioned this before, but my mom would always warn when we were younger, "one day you will walk past the mirror and wonder, who is that woman?"  And she was right, I already take that double glance, often wondering if the bags will eventually take over my entire face. On a positive note though-isn't this a good thing because I still feel like that 25 year-old on the inside?  And, thankfully, hopefully, my mind is evolving like the adult I have become (sans the stage dancing -see Oops I did it again post).  But the beauty of getting older is you realize it's no longer as important what you see in that mirror, it's who you see that matters.

TBT-birthday boys!  2006-What?

TBT-Brass family at Elizabeth's christening

Where has the time gone? 

All you need is love

When I think of love, I usually think of my kids (that should go without saying, I know), Adam, family, friends, pets, Kit Kats,  Chipotle, scarves! I love them all and not necessarily in that order. Today, though, I have been thinking from where the ability to love comes? How can we profess it to everything from another human being to chips and salsa? How do we know how to love? Who teaches us? For me, and probably for many of us, it's Mom.

By one definition, love means deep affection, fondness, tenderness. I think of the feeling you get when you look at a newborn baby, on your wedding day, when you are sitting with your close friends. We all have the capacity for that love, but I believe someone shows us, by example, how to love so we can then pass it along, so we know what to do when we love someone else. When we are given love freely and without condition, it makes it natural to want to give it away.  My mom gave me that gift. Sure she also taught me to cook, sew, clean (ha, ha- no she didn't, but by no fault of her own, I had zero interest in these things from a very early age-I know it's cruel irony that I am responsible for all of the aforementioned now-except sewing of course, which sadly she still does for me). And maybe she didn't love me enough to get me to the Olympics-oh right, I didn't have any talent that would translate-but she did make me feel like I could do anything I set out to do.
And it wasn't just love, she also gave us so much more. She also instilled in us (my sisters and me) the power to believe in ourselves, that we were smart and capable. Still, though, I feel the most important thing she did, was saying the words "I love you", showing us by hugs, pats, kisses that no matter what we did (and we did a lot of bad) that we were were good, worthy, important-lovable. And she continues to pass this unconditional love onto her grandchildren (as well as her neurosis-oh come on, I had to throw one dig in!)

Happy Valentines Day Mom and thanks for teaching me how to love myself, loving me even when I didn't deserve it, and most importantly, for showing me how to give love away.

My first loves!

Oh yeah, mom, if you are reading this, can you babysit tonight? He, he just kidding, I couldn't resist!

Tribute Tuesday

My friends-what I wish you knew

I wish you had the confidence in yourself that I do in you. The confidence you need as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, employee-you are amazing in all of your roles. I know you are tired, run down, pushed to the brink, but I wish you saw what I saw. I know it is not easy and I understand why.
I understand that now you are responsible for another person's life, their life.  How is it that when we were coming out of college, going to graduate school or interviewing for jobs, choosing mates, we had more confidence than we do now.  We knew we were good enough and smart enough because we were! We still are, even more so.  It seems, though, that now that we are mothers-when it comes to our children, we are so worried that we will do something wrong and screw everything up.  And of course, we will. We will say and do lots of things that we wish we would've said and done differently. Intuitively, we know this. But in reality, we are scared to death of it.
But even when it doesn't work out or "look" like we thought it should, you will be ok.  How do I know that? You are you.  You are so thoughtful, so smart, so beautiful, so unbelievably strong.  You are going to do the best you can and I've seen a lot of your best (and some of the worst, as you have seen mine :)). I have also seen you excel and do wonderful things and now that you are doing the most important thing, motherhood, I don't want you to doubt yourself. Your children love you deeply as you love them.  No matter what happens in the future, I know-because I know you, that you will excel and some things will work out and others will not.  I also know you wish you knew what the obstacles were going to be, but know this- that you will love through them.  You will not break, but you will bend, and that is ok.  Allow yourself to do that.  Allow yourself to make mistakes, allow your children to do the same.  I am not saying this because I am practicing it myself all the time, but I want to. I want to tell myself mostly positive things so I can pass inner strength along to my children. I want that for you too. Let's promise to laugh more and cry less. Let's promise to always be there for each other as we always have been. Let's continue to inspire each other.  Of course, I know all of this is so much easier said than done. I am confident though, as friends, we can get through it together. I am so grateful for that and for you.

Manic Monday

Temper Temper

How did today sneak up on me? Another day off school. I know, I know- no one wants to hear another rant about how I can't handle one more day off school for the kids. So I won't do that, well I might a little bit. Things had actually been going my way, the kids slept in until 7:30.  I had a hot breakfast made (no kidding, I absolutely did!). Jacob had a ride to practice so I didn't have to pack everyone up to go in the cold for a few hours. No one had lost their mind yet. It was shaping up to be great day.  
Then we did our rituals of shapes, colors, numbers, puzzles, books, videos, changing, a second full meal and before you know it 9:00 am rolls around. Then the text came in, my reinforcements, whom I affectionately call anyone that is  brave enough to come in and help with the kids, was sick and unable to come. So that sent my optimistic outlook on the day spinning down, down, down. I decided we would do one more round of songs, usually a repertoire of Taylor Swift videos, and then everyone was going to play by themselves for a few minutes/seconds.  Ha, ha!  No they weren't, but dare to dream.
Let the meltdowns begin!
We had a meltdown over a box of Raisin Bran dumped on the floor and then another meltdown when a huge bag of pretzels also made their way out of the bag all over the floor. Ironically, neither a food the dog will eat so there was significant clean-up. Obviously when I say "we" had a meltdown, I, of course mean "me", no one else cares if there is crap all over the floor, they don't have to clean it up. So, I had slightly raised my voice at Elizabeth because she was shaking the box upside down when it launched and flew into three rooms, then I yelled at Johnny for walking through it and laughing hysterically at the crunch sound as I was trying to clean it up, and then I yelled at Jacob for not getting up to help me, turns out he couldn't hear me because his Beats were on and they drown everything out, interestingly enough my voice is the one thing he consistently can't hear. Since it was still early, I had to figure out a way to keep my temper in check so I went to my "go to" strategies for not walking out the front door never to return.

• inhale, hold breath for 4-5 seconds, release through your mouth-instant relaxation
• start singing in a really silly voice (sometimes this does scare Elizabeth, I think because I am tone deaf and it sounds like an animal dying)
• get perspective-was anyone bleeding or dying?  Not this time, for the love of God, calm down
• Counting. The counting to 10 thing does work apparently, but I can only go to 5 because by 10 something else has already been destroyed, there's no time to get to ten
• dance around or jump up and down like a moron, this usually breaks the mood and makes everyone chill and just stare at me like they can't believe I am the person in charge of taking care of them. Trust me, they're not the only ones thinking it!

Suddenly, I felt something in my neck pop. I'm not trying to be funny or sarcastic now, it was really scary. What comes next, however, might be borderline weird-my mind immediately went to Julia Roberts in Steel Magnolias where she is lying on the floor and her baby is crying for her and Dylan McDermott finds her unconscious. Horrific. Elizabeth had lost my phone hours ago, so if something happened, how would I let anyone know?  What would the kids do?  Who would take care of them? How could Dylan, I mean, Adam, do it alone?
A tad over dramatic as it turns out, I was fine. Thank goodness. The day did not slow down or get easier from here, however I was more grateful for anything good that happened, rather than focusing on the bad things that kept creeping in.

This evening, because we had all made it through the day relatively unscathed, I decided to do my Gratitude entry at the end of this post because I was appreciative for a fire, a glass of wine, and eventually, silence. Also, I need to get out some positive energy because the weather forecast tomorrow looks less than promising (eek  : /).

If you're still with me, thanks, that in and of itself takes patience. Below is what I am grateful for today:
I am grateful to Martin Luther King for blazing a trail that has made the world a significantly better place.  I am grateful to the women that went to work today and held it all down so our daughters can continue to take over the world. I am grateful to moms who won't get a break at all this morning, afternoon, and tonight and will keep doing it all the best they know how and then again tomorrow-you are my motivation! And I am especially grateful tonight for this venue to list all my shortcomings and hopefully, become a better Mother for it!

Keeping Score

You know why keeping score is never good, especially with a spouse? Well obviously because, someone has to lose. I know you were thinking other obvious reasons not to keep score like um, it is not healthy for a marriage, it could cause resentment, it pits you against each other, etc. blah, etc.  But really, it just sucks be on the losing end.  OK seriously, I do feel the "I did this so you need to do that" isn't really the best way to come into or go out of a weekend, but do you feel like sometimes you just can't help it?  Do you ever feel like you are the one doing the puzzles, wiping butts, switching laundry, putting the dishes in the dishwasher, cleaning up toys- you get the point. But now, coming out of the haze of a whole lot of family time over the weekend, I realize the reality of the situation- I totally lost again.  You see, I had been looking so forward to the Golden Globes, not just the Globes however, the sixteen (no, not sixteen, 6. Yes, 6) hours of pre-Globes with the dresses, the interviews, the Bradley, and of course, the Queens of the Universe who in my mind are my close, personal friends, Amy and Tina. Judge if you must, but I am here to tell you, it is not a good look on you. Anyway, it is hard to do the aforementioned kids stuff when you want to be committed to E News and NBC for much of the day. I am not sure who I thought was doing all the work around here when I clearly wasn't, but still had my "poor pitiful me" attitude going into the evening.  I don't even want to list what Adam accomplished during the day because it will surely make you feel even worse for him being married to me than you already do. The moral of the story-if you know you are going to lose-stop keeping score!  Just kidding, the moral should be appreciation for what you have accomplished during a given day rather than what you haven't, appreciation for what your husband or significant other does-what other moms and dads are doing that are much harder and more taxing, and gratitude for the day in general.  It's a lofty attitude adjustment, I know, but it's better than losing!  And occasionally you'll get a moment like this in the picture, so very rare with Johnny...............and you realize no matter what-you've actually won.

God Gave Me You

You're amazing.....just the way you are

This morning I began trying to organize old medical records, forms, papers, etc. and it became quite an undertaking. There were literally stacks and stacks of it and in no particular order. So I quit doing it, whew, overwhelming! But I did come across a few that took me back to certain appointments with Elizabeth. I remember lots of doctors examining her like a science experiment, young students staring-confused, nurses trying to entertain her amid the long wait. I remember the the incessant questions, not for no reason, but invasive, and seemingly critical nonetheless. And then I remembered getting the report in the mail and some of the things describing my baby were:

17 partial monsomy syndrome, generalized convulsive epilepsy, muscle weakness and tone, growth hormone deficiency, gliosis, intellectual disability, motor skill disorder, intrauterine growth retardation, FTT (failure to thrive), just to name a few things from one visit.

This isn't to make you sad or pity her, she truly epitomizes strength and sweetness, and it isn't to criticize medical staff, they were doing their job. It is just to “let you in” on a little bit of what she faces as she powers through this life.

Elizabeth is a gift. She is one of those children that brings joy to everyone with whom she comes into contact. Sure she is bossy, pushy, and frustrating to the point of exhaustion, she is my child after all, but you just fall in love with her on sight.

When I am worried about her in the middle of the night, which is often, I start thinking of songs that remind me of her. The music that comes to me soothes my soul, calms inner turmoil, brings back the angst of the past and delights in the today. But there are those certain songs that I feel like were written for my loved one, family, and special moments. Does music do that for you? I could and do listen to certain songs over and over, they never disappoint. That actually turns out to be lucky for me because Johnny will listen to the same song a thousand times plus before he tires of it or I am forced to delete it depending on how deep I have sunk into madness from the sheer repetition. Sorry, this post is about Elizabeth! Anyway, about 4 am this morning I woke up with the song by Bruno Mars, “Just the way you are”, playing in my head. My thoughts immediately went to my precious hearted Elizabeth. This is my song to my sweet baby girl. She is such a power house. Beyond a hard worker, she is an avid learner and constant positive presence. She loves with an open heart under no conditions. She knows no prejudice, envy, or hate.

Here are a few of the lyrics of that song:

Just the Way You Are

By: Bruno Mars

When I see your face

There's not a thing that I would change

Cause you're amazing 

Just the way you are 

And when you smile

The whole world stops and stares for awhile

Cause girl you're amazing

Just the way you are