"Kind of defines you, doesn’t it? You know like, one moment you’re gliding along… the next moment you’re standing in the rain watching your life fall apart." - Hitch
We have had Zack and Sabo staying at our house the last couple days since they're out of school for Christmas break. Desperate to watch something other than Waterboy (which is always, always their movie selection when given the choice), we suggested Hitch. There's one scene where Sara tells Hitch about her past, when she saved her little sister from almost drowning. She says that she doesnt think she ever got over it. And he agrees that those moments define you.
At her words, I felt an immediate rush of relief. A kinship in feeling changed by the past, even mired in it sometimes (nevermind that they are fictional characters). Captive by the fear of what might have been, what could have happened, how close we came to losing him. And I know that those moments defined me. They changed the person I am today, while I sat at his bedside. When they answered my question of "will we lose him?" with an "I don't know."
Last January, we declared 2011 "the year of new beginnings," and it has certainly been that. One of those years where life's pendulum has swung wide, and big changes have shaped all of us. We have been defined by a new home. By a new ministry, a new baby, a new family landscape, a hospital stay . . .
And undoubtedly those big moments DO define us. I can look back at my 27 years of life and point at those snapshots of my life I would declare "defining." Adam and I at the altar. Grasping hands as they laid Jayci on my chest, and I gained the role of mother. Showing up at camp for the first time. Tentatively inviting Sabo and Zack out for lunch. Deciding to quit our jobs to do ministry. Caden's birth, and when the cardiologist walked into my hospital room with the news. Seeing Caden's sweet eyes open for the first time while his heart beat new. Bringing Caden home.
Yes, those moments have shaped me. But I am also defined by the in-between. Quiet moments, chaotic ones, boring ones. When I fold yet another load of laundry, or wake up at 3am and again at 4, 5, and 6 to nurse an-almost five month old who still lives on a newborn schedule. When I cry a little in the shower as water drenches my head, and these are the only quiet minutes without someone asking "why mommy?" or knocking on the door and interrupting naps for a glass of water and a safe place to color.
Today was one of those mornings when I felt a hopeless ache in my spirit. Like I might never sleep again, or have space to breathe again. Like I was doing something wrong, because both of my children refuse to be put down for naps or to sleep through the night. Like I'm the only mother on the planet who can't handle two kids on her own when her husband has to work outside of the house all day. Embarrassed at how triumphant I feel just to get Jayci some broccoli and spaghetti for dinner without Adam around to help me. Weary as I lay in my bed finally snuggled with Caden because his eyes pop open and he wails each time I lay him in his own bed. And then I hear bikes clattering through the front gate and footsteps and shouts and I brace myself for the knock and barking. Because even though we have rules, even when I scribble a desperate note begging kids who cant read not to knock right now, the knocks still come.
The truth is that I'm ok with being defined by the big moments, the ones when I am able to rise to the occasion. Because he is my son, and what else will I do but trust in the Father's goodness? But I'm not always defined as beautifully by the moments when I'm answering Jayci's "why" 800 times a day. Watching episodes of White Collar instead of praying with Adam before bed. Deciding how I spend my money. Folding the sixth load of laundry this week. Ignoring the knock at our door for the fifth time this morning because Adam took the kids to give me a little quiet time. And I'm staying snuggled here, writing and reading, until I recognize anew that every single moment is a reflection of His grace.
So if 2011 has been the year of new beginnings, I am determined that 2012 will be the year of celebrating in-betweens. I will learn to embrace the everyday moments and somehow accept that my inadequacies in their midst point me to Jesus just as surely as they did when Caden was in the hospital. To recognize that my role as mother is a holy one. That who I am is a product of each little choice I make.
In 2012 I will grasp hold of the joy set before me. I will see through the haze just how dependent I am on a Father who is holding me close and wrapping me in His great grace. I will grab peace and cast my cares on him. And this year, I wont just do it when I'm mired in the hard times. No, I will thank Him for those hard times, but I will draw near to Him at ALL times.
I am a better person because of 2011. My own heart has been molded by our experiences with Caden's heart. I am attuned to motherhood and the loss and hardships that so many mothers have experienced, which somehow I have never noticed before this year. I am grateful for all we have been through this year and who we are on the other end. And I am praying for us that this year will be another year of growth and change, and of walking closely with a Father who loves us deeply.
"Standing in an imperfect place is just the perfect place to begin, and everyday offers the hope of Day 1." - Ann Voskamp
We have had Zack and Sabo staying at our house the last couple days since they're out of school for Christmas break. Desperate to watch something other than Waterboy (which is always, always their movie selection when given the choice), we suggested Hitch. There's one scene where Sara tells Hitch about her past, when she saved her little sister from almost drowning. She says that she doesnt think she ever got over it. And he agrees that those moments define you.
At her words, I felt an immediate rush of relief. A kinship in feeling changed by the past, even mired in it sometimes (nevermind that they are fictional characters). Captive by the fear of what might have been, what could have happened, how close we came to losing him. And I know that those moments defined me. They changed the person I am today, while I sat at his bedside. When they answered my question of "will we lose him?" with an "I don't know."
Last January, we declared 2011 "the year of new beginnings," and it has certainly been that. One of those years where life's pendulum has swung wide, and big changes have shaped all of us. We have been defined by a new home. By a new ministry, a new baby, a new family landscape, a hospital stay . . .
And undoubtedly those big moments DO define us. I can look back at my 27 years of life and point at those snapshots of my life I would declare "defining." Adam and I at the altar. Grasping hands as they laid Jayci on my chest, and I gained the role of mother. Showing up at camp for the first time. Tentatively inviting Sabo and Zack out for lunch. Deciding to quit our jobs to do ministry. Caden's birth, and when the cardiologist walked into my hospital room with the news. Seeing Caden's sweet eyes open for the first time while his heart beat new. Bringing Caden home.
Yes, those moments have shaped me. But I am also defined by the in-between. Quiet moments, chaotic ones, boring ones. When I fold yet another load of laundry, or wake up at 3am and again at 4, 5, and 6 to nurse an-almost five month old who still lives on a newborn schedule. When I cry a little in the shower as water drenches my head, and these are the only quiet minutes without someone asking "why mommy?" or knocking on the door and interrupting naps for a glass of water and a safe place to color.
The truth is that I'm ok with being defined by the big moments, the ones when I am able to rise to the occasion. Because he is my son, and what else will I do but trust in the Father's goodness? But I'm not always defined as beautifully by the moments when I'm answering Jayci's "why" 800 times a day. Watching episodes of White Collar instead of praying with Adam before bed. Deciding how I spend my money. Folding the sixth load of laundry this week. Ignoring the knock at our door for the fifth time this morning because Adam took the kids to give me a little quiet time. And I'm staying snuggled here, writing and reading, until I recognize anew that every single moment is a reflection of His grace.
In 2012 I will grasp hold of the joy set before me. I will see through the haze just how dependent I am on a Father who is holding me close and wrapping me in His great grace. I will grab peace and cast my cares on him. And this year, I wont just do it when I'm mired in the hard times. No, I will thank Him for those hard times, but I will draw near to Him at ALL times.
I am a better person because of 2011. My own heart has been molded by our experiences with Caden's heart. I am attuned to motherhood and the loss and hardships that so many mothers have experienced, which somehow I have never noticed before this year. I am grateful for all we have been through this year and who we are on the other end. And I am praying for us that this year will be another year of growth and change, and of walking closely with a Father who loves us deeply.
"Standing in an imperfect place is just the perfect place to begin, and everyday offers the hope of Day 1." - Ann Voskamp