god is always good March 13, 2011

We spent most of Friday and Saturday at the hospital with Jonas.

The short version of the story: Friday morning he woke up with a fever. He was lethargic and complaining of the light. Ben’s mom came over to stay with the kids, so I could go to the store. I wasn’t gone more than 45 minutes when I got a call to come home. Jonas had had a seizure, something that had never happened before. He was sleeping hard when I got home, and I took him to the doctor, where he sat in my lap, barely conscious a lot of the time, falling in and out of sleep. Still feverish.

The doctor was concerned because it didn’t fit the typical definition of a febrile seizure, and based on other observations, he thought there was a possibility of meningitis. So, off the the hospital we went for lots of tests and waiting. Everything came back fine. We don’t know what caused the seizure.

Yesterday, when I facebooked the news that we were heading home, one of my cousins responded, “God is good!!” It’s a statement we commonly use to express thankfulness for God granting healing or positive resolution in our lives. I’ve been thinking about this lately: We never meet bad news with “God is good!” And yet, he is. He is always good. His decisions are always right and work together for the good of those who love him, even though we cannot comprehend his ways. If the diagnosis had been meningitis, God is still good. If the illness led to my child’s death, God is still good.

I think that one of the biggest challenges in life and one of the most worthwhile is to be able to say, in the midst of trial and even the worst of tragedies, “God is good.” To be able to see his grace in the darkness. In the worst case scenario, is my faith such that I would see His goodness and blessing? Is my heart capable of giving thanks in all circumstances?

Four July 1, 2010

Dear Jonas,

Tuesday was your fourth birthday. Four. I keep saying it to myself, hardly believing it. 

You, Bridget and I went downtown to the gelato shop for a birthday treat in the afternoon. You rode your trike the whole way as I pushed the stroller. You did such a great job listening and crossing the busy streets. When the girl at the store found out it was your birthday, she asked how old you are, and you replied, “three.” I said, “are you sure?” as you concentrated hard on your apricot sorbet (since they didn’t have mango). You nodded, and then slowly remembered that you get to say “four” now.

Last week, we threw a birthday party and invited all your friends. We filled water balloons and also had a scavenger hunt. Mostly, you kids just had a blast running  around the yard. Dad grilled hotdogs and we had chocolate applesauce cupcakes with vanilla buttercream frosting topped with dinosaurs for desert. You seemed to think the whole event was pretty amazing. On Saturday, we went down to Great Grandma and  Grandpa Beem’s house for a little party, and you got to swim in their big pool. You loved it.

Currently, you are extremely interested in dinosaurs. This started last summer when Grandma Osborne gave you a book about them. And once the PBS show, Dinosaur Train, started airing in the fall, you were pretty much obsessed. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could name over forty types of dinosaurs. You just soak that information up, and you talk about it non-stop. I love how you’ve invented your own descriptive words, like “curbivore,” (even though you know the word “omnivore),” and you often call “quadrupeds” “four-drupeds.” That makes me smile. You still like Thomas the Tank Engine a lot too, and since Christmas, you’ve been really into Legos. You love to build, and you and Dad play Legos together most every night  before going to bed.

It’s been a challenging year for you. Learning how to be a big brother has not always been easy, and while you love your sister, it was difficult for you to figure out where you fit in the family after her arrival. That caused a lot of big feelings in you that you didn’t know how to deal with. While you have been learning and making strides all year, it has really been in recent weeks that I have observed a marked change in you with regard to Bridget. You just seem so  much more mature and able to handle the frustrations of having a baby sister. I am so proud of you and the patience and kindness you have extended to her. Not only that, but you have been joyfully trying to teach her how to do things and you seem to take real pleasure out of playing silly games with her. I love watching you two play and see the happiness you have in each other. Sometimes when you’re interacting with her, I hear myself in you, good and bad, and it reminds me once again that you are both watching and listening to everything I say and do, and that you are learning how to be, from me.

You are still as particular as ever, and at times, this can cause big frustrations for you. You have been doing a good job of learning how to deal with life when it’s not the way you like it, though there are days when you can fall apart over a hamburger not fitting perfectly in its bun.

Some of the things I enjoy most about you right now include the way you make up songs that just go on and on and the way you love to dance with your sister after dinner. I get a kick out of how you speak in similes – on our walk downtown, you said that Bridget was “singing like a cloud.” You also use terminology you’ve learned watching Thomas the Train. My favorite is when you point out a worker at the grocery store who is bringing the carts in. “Look,” you exclaim, “he’s shunting the carts.” I also like how you enjoy helping me bake. You like to dump the ingredients in, and of course swipe as much batter as possible if I’m making cake or cookies. I love the concentration with which you play. You take it quite seriously and you become very involved in what you are doing. And I love how you pray. Sometimes, like last night, you will interrupt your dad as he prays at dinner to add your own. It warms my heart. I love everything that makes you, you. You are so special and unique.

You are an amazing gift from God, and I love you more than you will ever know.

Love,

Your Mama

(who is now most often addressed as Mom)

The Little Photographer April 21, 2010

Last week, I created a new computer folder entitled Photos By Jonas because he asked me to show him how to use the camera and then happily went about the house snapping pictures. When Ben got home, he gave him an old camera we don’t use anymore. After much use, I believe it is sitting in the “trunk” of his trike, along with a dozen or so dandelions.

Here are some snapshots from his week.

A March Gift March 19, 2010

Warmth. Almost a week of warmth in the middle of a Wisconsin March. Of course we’re supposed to get snow tomorrow, but we have been enjoying the outdoors while we can.

So, we had to make a trip to the park.

Bridget had her first ride in the wagon, and she loved it. She laughed continually the first half of the ride.

She was quite interested in the playground surface and all the little bits of leaves and dirt all around.

Slides have always been Jonas’ favorite. Even when he was small, he had no fear of the tallest slides.

Swings, on the other hand, he had little interest in until last summer.

But his sister loves them!

       

She is determined to keep up with her brother.

We had a wonderful afternoon together.

Bad Guys January 25, 2010

I was helping Jonas put fresh sheets on his bed tonight. There is a particular order that he likes his pillows.

And I commented, “yes, I know you like to sleep on the blue and green Thomas (the Tank Engine) pillow.”

He replied, “yes, and it has to go right there, (closer to the wall, farther from the door), so I’m farther away if any bad guys come.”

(Oh, my heart).

“Is that something you worry about?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, wrinkling his nose and looking down.

I hug him hard. “You don’t need to worry about that.” I explain that we have locks on our doors, and we live in a safe neighborhood where bad guys don’t go, and we have guns to protect ourselves just in case a bad guy would ever want to get in.

But all the while I’m assuring him, I wonder if I’m saying the right things. Does he feel safe? Does he trust what I’m saying? Will this put an end to those thoughts? And I just imagine him, at times when this goes through his mind, probably alone, and worried, and maybe a little scared, and I don’t even realize that he’s dealing with these big feelings. I hug him closer, wanting him to know how much I love him. And I want to tell him to come back to our room, where he slept until nine months ago, but I refrain.

All I want to do is keep him safe and protected, and I know that truly, I can’t even promise that, though it is what I want more than anything. And so, I feel a little guilty telling him that no bad guys will get in, yet what else can I say?

I don’t like feeling that helplessness, and it makes me want to pull my wings more firmly around him, but what more can I do, really? The world is not a safe place, and I will not always be able to protect him as I’d like.

I am so grateful to know, to the core of my being, that God is sovereign. That’s not a cop out, just the truth. I don’t know what will happen to my children in this life, and it scares me to consider the possibilities, but it is a comfort to know that we have a Heavenly Father who loves us and has a plan for our lives. As a mother, that is what I must hold onto and teach my children.

Gentle Reminders Of God’s Love and Faithfulness December 1, 2009

I have long felt that my mission in life is to be a mother. I was never really interested in having a career; in college I followed my interests, but I never new what I wanted to do with that education. I felt destined to be a mother. That’s what my heart really longed for.

When Ben and I began the journey toward parenthood, it wasn’t easy. The first three pregnancies ended in miscarriage, and I wondered if I would ever have the opportunity to carry a pregnancy to term and give birth to our children. I felt a little desperate because that is what I felt God had given me a passion for. I vividly remember thinking that if I could just know what was ahead, if I could have a glimpse, I could feel better about our losses. If I knew I would have to endure ten miscarriages before having a healthy pregnancy, I felt I could face that pain, knowing it would end with a baby in my arms. But the uncertainty, the wondering if it was all in vain – that was hard. And I knew that God is good, and I knew there was a purpose to the pain. I  also knew that he put that passion inside of me. I did not believe that he would leave that unfulfilled, but I didn’t know how he would choose to fulfill it. What if this was not his plan for us? To be honest, I didn’t know if I could be okay with that.

God is so faithful and so generous. It was in those years that I really began to learn what it means to trust him and to wholeheartedly believe that his plan, his timing, is far superior to my own. He has blessed me so greatly. I am so undeserving, yet he takes pleasure in pouring out such beautiful gifts in my life. It is easy in hindsight to see God’s hand, and now I know that I really needed those times in order to understand more about his character and his love for me – for it to become personal. I have struggled all my life believing that God’s grace is for me, that he truly loves me, though I always believed it without question for others. Because of what I have seen him do thus far, I am confident in his trustworthiness and his working in my life and the life of my family. I don’t have to be anxious (though sometimes I am) because he is a good God who, for some inexplicable reason, loves me.

I have had a great reminder of these truths in recent months, as once again I have been filled with doubt over the direction of our family, and once again God, through our family trials and his guiding hand, has gently reminded me not to fear. The summer and fall were a bit rough for Jonas and therefore, for me. As Jonas turned three, we were met with some challenging behavior. I tried to take it in stride, remembering that we had recently moved and he had a new baby sister. Those are huge things for little kids. He needed to learn how to fit into the changes in our family, and I was sure that it was normal for him to act out his anxious feelings. His behavior was unacceptable, but at least it made sense in context. As time went on, I didn’t feel that anything we did made any improvement. I grew frustrated, discouraged, and sometimes angry. Conversations with my mom made me fearful, as she was very adamant that he was acting this way because of something we were not doing, and if I didn’t fix the behavior problems with a firmer (i.e. more punitive) hand, he would be completely out of control down the road.

As I was mothering a new baby and trying to work through this rough period with my toddler, I felt I was completely losing my focus. I started ignoring some of my parental instincts in hopes of getting my toddler “under control,” I was forgetting what I knew about child development and what I knew about my particular child, and, worst of all, I was trying to fix it myself. I felt like our home was turning into a battleground, and I felt bad about how I was dealing with the situation. My own resources were failing me. And I grew anxious. This thing that I so longed for, that I wanted more than anything – motherhood – I felt like I was failing. I felt I wasn’t cut out for it. I began worrying that I was going to ruin my children. What was God thinking giving me these precious kids?

I am often amazed at how slow to learn I am. It took me this long to truly, with every fiber of my being, get on my knees over my children. That desperate seeking, when all else fails. Why is it not the first place I go? I need these constant reminders to drive me there – these realizations that I can’t do this on my own – a denouncement of my independent streak. And without fail I am given the sweet reminder that he is in control and that he is faithful. I do not need to fear. I do not need to be anxious. He has proven himself to me over and over, and yet I am so slow to trust, so slow to go to him, so slow to believe that everything really will be okay. I try to do it on my own. I can’t.

In recent weeks, he has provided me with words of wisdom and encouragement from people in my life, he has rekindled my joy in my family, he has helped me to see things more clearly, and he has been working changes in both my and Jonas’ hearts. Things have been a lot more peaceful at our house lately, though I recognize that could all change tomorrow. We are certainly guaranteed a host of parenting challenges in the coming months and years. But what I know, and what I do not want to forget, is that God is for me and for my family, and he is faithful to his covenant people. He hears my prayers, my fears and uncertainties. He hears, and he lovingly responds. He loves my children far more than I ever could, and I believe that he is working in their hearts. I am merely his (very imperfect) instrument, and the fact that he has entrusted them to me, sinful and incompetent as I am, is humbling and proof to me of his great, great love and his awesome power.

All this is not to say that all of a sudden we have a perfectly angelic three year old. Of course not. But I feel like our family is right again, and I feel renewed in my work to mother my children. What a gift I feel God has given me these last few weeks. By calming the storm in our home, he has clearly shown me, he is in control, and I do not need to fear over my children. These little parenting trials seem so momentous and daunting when you are in the midst of them, and you can’t see what is ahead, and you want nothing more than for your child’s heart to be soft and open to God’s teachings. But just like before, I am learning that I can trust him in all things and that he is working even when we can’t see his hand in the moment. Little by little, I am learning to give up my control – so hard, despite the fact that it’s an illusion to begin with. The last half a year is a reminder to me that I should be praying earnestly over my children in all circumstances, not just when things are rough. It has been a purposeful time that has drawn me closer to him, which is the whole point of this life, anyway. No doubt there will be larger parenting trials in the future, but I’m thankful that he’s getting me there with baby steps.

Play (Or Perhaps More Aptly Titled ‘Time’) October 12, 2009

Jonas is now playing on his own…..FOR EXTENDED PERIODS OF TIME.

He’s done a pretty good job of learning to play without me over the last year, but hasn’t really been able to sustain his own play for long periods of time until recently. All of a sudden in the last few weeks, he is lost in his own little world for an hour or more at a time. His imaginative abilities have taken off. Watching him has brought to mind Montessori’s belief that play is a child’s work. He is so earnest, almost studious sometimes, as he plays, oblivious to everything else.

He still asks me to play at times, and I make sure that I still do that daily, as I think it is good for me. I find it hard to play creatively with his cars and trains and animals. I guess most of us lose that ability for imaginative play somewhere along the road to adulthood. I have the hardest time just being in the moment with him when we play. My mind wanders to things I need to get done or projects I’m working on. So, I’m trying to do better. I’m trying to take a lesson from him. And I’m trying to make playing with him the most important thing at that moment.

I have to admit, it is nice to feel a little less needed. And it’s a little bit sad to feel less needed. I mean, it’s great; it’s good for both of us. It’s so nice not to hear the pleading for someone to play as I clean the kitchen or nurse Bridget. I don’t miss that! And now I can appreciate playing with him more than I did when it was a frequent request. 

I have found myself with so many mixed feelings as I journey through motherhood, and this is just one more instance. It gives me such pleasure to see them grow and excel, but I also recognize little milestones like this as one more subtle sign that all this early mothering will be done too soon. I feel the passing of time so quickly lately, and it almost frightens me because I take so much of what I have now for granted, and I don’t want to look back and say, “I missed too much in these precious years.” I know there is sweetness and hardship in each stage of life, and I do look forward to seeing what each of them become as they make their way through it. I certainly don’t want them to stay babies forever. I guess I just have a hard time letting go of things, even when I am appreciative of the change and aware that greater things are to come. I don’t think I’m even talking about play anymore.

This is probably just me getting too melancholy as I sense such a shift in the physical seasons. This started out as a little post about how well Jonas plays, and has become a small lament over the speed at which they’ll be grown and gone….despite the fact that the youngest doesn’t even sit yet, and we hope for more!

I just have a thing about time. I let too much of it slip through my fingers without savoring it, and then I wonder where it has gone. I’m always remarking to Ben, “do you realize that such and such a thing happened this long ago? It seems like such a short time ago. When that much time passes again, we’ll be forty.” He looks at me rather blankly when I say stuff like that.

As I sit typing this morning, I hear him climb out of bed, but instead of coming right down the stairs as he usually does, he has stopped to play with some farm animals and a tractor that were left in the loft last night. I wonder how long he’ll be up there.

Dear Jonas, You Are Three! June 29, 2009

Today is your birthday. How you have changed over the last year!

You are a joyful kid. You love to laugh and sing. It makes me smile when I hear you walking around the house singing. Your current favorites are “Cats in the Cradle,” “I’ve Got Peace Like A River,” and your newest favorite, Weird Al’s Jurassic Park song.

You have been interested in dinosaurs lately. Grandma Osborne recently gave you a couple books about them. Your two longtime favorite things are Thomas the Tank Engine and Pixar Cars. I love to listen to you play with your cars and trains. They talk to each other, play hide and seek, act out scenes from the movies…all kinds of things. You are crazy about the outdoors and spend lots of time in your sandbox. You also like to help me water our plants because it gives you the opportunity to play with the hose. Sometimes you get very wet. You and Dad like to run around the yard together playing frisbee and other games. You adore your Dad.

Your curiosity and ability to absorb information astounds me. You ask so many questions! You want to know how everything works and why things are the way they are. Organization is very important to you and seems to be a primary way that you make sense of the world around you. You want to know the relationships of all types of things from what towns your friends and family members live in and where those towns are located to what letter various words begin with and how that letter sounds. You have a mind for detail and notice and comment on every little thing you see and hear. Your very orderly nature sometimes leads to frustration for you because you have definite ideas about how things should be, and you have a hard time accepting that other people have their own ideas that might be different from yours, but you have been doing a good job learning to express your frustration with words.

This has been a year of big changes for you. We moved to a new house a few months ago, and last month, your baby sister was born. I’m so proud of how you’ve handled these big transitions. You took to sleeping in your own room surprisingly well on our very first night here. And while sometimes you get frustrated that you’re no longer the only one who needs me, you are such a wonderful big brother. From the start, you have been so incredibly gentle, loving and helpful toward Bridget. It makes my heart smile to see you stroke or kiss her head and hear the nurturing tone of your voice as you speak to her.

You are a sensitive child. You get frightened by things like the sharks in Finding Nemo, and whenever we’re out and you hear a baby or child crying, you report it to me with concern in your voice: “someone’s crying.” I hope you never lose that sweet sensitivity.

You bring such sunshine to my life. You are so very special, and I love you more than I can ever say.

 

More On Letting Go June 7, 2009

As I was putting Jonas to bed last night, I realized, snuggling with him in the dark, that perhaps much of what I’m feeling is simply the loss of his own babyhood. Of course, he hasn’t been a baby for some time, but the addition of Bridget to our family makes it only too clear just what a big kid he is becoming. As his hand tiredly stroked my hair and felt my cheek, I was aware of how large it was and speculated, as I breathed in his slightly sweaty head, that there was probably dirt under his fingernails.- not like Bridget’s delicate little fingers that wrap sweetly around my index finger.

Of course I want him to grow and mature. And he is at such a fun age right now, constantly amazing me with everything he is learning and doing. I guess it’s just that it has all gone so fast. He’s not my baby anymore and someday he will be grown.

As I left him to slumber and crawled into my own bed with Bridget curled beside me, I couldn’t help but consider how familiar and yet how foreign this little girl is to me.There is a certain way in which a mother just feels she knows her child from the first moment, and yet I don’t yet know her with the same intimacy that I do that sweaty little boy I had just left. I know that child inside and out. As I lay listening to Bridget’s irregular breathing and watching her arms move in that newborn way, I marveled at how odd it is that she could seem so known to me while also seeming so strange. And I realized too, as I breathed deeply her newborn scent, that the time would come all too soon when she too would cease to be my baby.

Letting Go June 6, 2009

During my pregnancy, I acknowledged that the addition of a new baby would mean big changes for Jonas. I realized that there would be a period of adjustment where he was likely to act out a bit as he got used to our new normal, and I was ready for that. I was totally unprepared however, for how I would feel about the shift in our relationship that would occur.

Today, I was overcome by emotions over the loss of a special period in my relationship with Jonas. I had sensed it since Bridget’s birth, but it had not been put into words until now. Never again will it be just me and him. This little person with whom I’ve spent every day of the last three years will never again have my full attention. This boy has made my heart so full and taught me so much about myself and life. I feel like I never fully appreciated the special bond we’ve shared until I realized that it is altered forever. That bond is not severed, of course; it’s not damaged. I will still continue to love him more deeply each day, just as I had before Bridget’s birth. It’s just different now, and I am feeling that so acutely today, though I’m having trouble expressing it in words.

My feelings of loss are in no way a reflection of my feelings toward Bridget. I adore her, and I can’t imagine my life without her. It’s not that I feel that she has intruded on my relationship with Jonas. It’s just an inevitable stage in the growth of our family, I suppose.

My feelings of loss have nothing to do with fearing that Jonas is not receiving enough care and attention. Ben is still home for another week, and they’ve spent a lot of time palling around together, and I have tried to maintain some of our one on one routines, especially reading stories and cuddling before bedtime. While he has been acting out occasionally, overall he is doing really well with this major life change. I have no concerns over his relationship with Bridget. He’s been amazing with her. She receives countless Jonas kisses. He strokes her head and talks about what she’s doing. He always shows concern when she cries, and he’s eager to help at every diaper change. Perhaps, though, I do worry a bit about how he perceives our relationship now. Does he think I love him less? Does he worry that I won’t be there to love and take care of him like I did before? I find that I often don’t give him enough credit, and I hope that he does feel as secure now as he did two weeks ago.

There is certainly enough love in this house to go around, and I know that we will find our new way of being a family. I am so grateful for the way God has blessed us with these children, and I look forward to watching how we grow together. Though things will never be the same, they will be new and different in the best possible way. I know these two will fill my heart in an amazing way, in a way that surpasses the joy that I’ve already known. I know these things. Sometimes it’s just hard to let go.