tomorrow is mother’s day and all i want is some time alone

tomorrow is mother’s day and all i want is some time alone to try to process this life i’m living. so i’m at panera.

i am sitting here physically on my own, but I’m never really alone. a break is never really a break. time away is never really time away. because they don’t leave my mind, these kids of mine. because they are tethered to my heart. because they are wounded and somehow, some way i’m supposed to be a part of they’re healing. and in the process i’m being wounded too. because i have asked Him many times to break my heart for what breaks His. and He is.

i feel more like a ring leader in the circus than a mom.

in this ring, manage the rage. in this ring, manage the anxiety. in this ring, manage the eating disorder. in this ring, we have five performers, and prepare to be amazed, they all have PTSD. jump right in ring master mom! in this ring, manage the bowel disorder. in this ring, manage the developmental delays. in this ring, manage the learning disorder. in this ring, manage the ADHD. in this ring, manage the tied tongue. in this ring, manage the fear. in this ring, manage the loss. in this ring, manage all the hearts so broken they still can’t really let me in. manage the housework, the homework, the laundry, the meals, the paperwork. juggle, juggle, juggle.

and while i’m juggling all of my little circus performers, i’m supposed to deal with my own broken past. the one that tells the story of the mom who gave up on me when i was seven because i wasn’t what she’d hoped i’d be. she didn’t abandon me physically, but emotionally, she cut ties. i was too independent and too strong willed so she decided i didn’t need her. the love i didn’t receive, i’m now supposed to give it x 9.

and then there are their birth mothers.  two of them for my nine.  two mothers who caused some damage. two mothers who allowed others to cause the rest.  two mothers who were so broken themselves, they transferred their brokenness right on to their children.  and i get to pick up the pieces. and my heart breaks for them.  if only someone safe and loving and Jesus following would have stepped into their stories when they were young children.

and i need to put on my happy face so my circus parade looks pretty when we pass by the crowds as they stare in awe and wonder at our spectacle. it looks so neat! there are so many of of them!  so many ages.  so many sizes.  so many colors. but looks can be deceiving, it’s really all so broken. i don’t need to worry though, most won’t get close enough to really see what’s going on. they’ll keep themselves at a safe distance.

better let the crazy lady live out that crazy on her own.

i don’t get what keeps people away.  is it all too much?  too big?  too colorful?  too scary?  too unknown? oh there are a few who dare to wade these murky waters with me.  a few who dare to get close.   a few who see behind the curtain on the stage of our circus and choose to enter in.  a few who choose to let their hearts break.  a few who choose to love even in the face of rejection.  a few who choose to help hold me up when i feel like i can’t keep going.  without them, i’d start to sink.

where does one even begin to learn to juggle all of this?

where does one even begin to learn how to love all of this?

Jesus.

if i didn’t know Him, i wouldn’t do any of this. if my hope wasn’t anchored in Him, i’d surely set the course of this ship in a different direction. but because of Him, my circus performers aren’t doing amazing tricks. no, they are defying death. they are breaking chains. they are the beauty rising up out of the ashes. because He alone heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds(psalm 147:3). and me, i get a front row seat. day after day i step into their muck and mire so i can watch Him make beautiful things.

so i took a little break to try to process through my thoughts and feelings.  but this kind of heartache, the kind my kids carry and the kind i carry for them, it can’t really be processed.  it’s too messy.  it’s too big.  the only thing i can do with it is open my hands and lay it at the foot of the cross.  where we are all, my children and i, being redeemed through this story.

the children who needed a mother.

the girl who needed a mother now being a mother to nine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

whose he is

he’s ours.

he’s his.

he’s mine.

he’s hers.

he’s His.

and His alone.

“for You formed my inward parts;
You knitted me together in my mother’s womb
i praise You, for i am fearfully and wonderfully made.
wonderful are Your works;
my soul knows it very well.
my frame was not hidden from You,
when i was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in Your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.”
psalm 139:13-16

 

 

he’s gone again

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he’s gone again.

and it’s not any easier this time around.

how long o Lord must my hands be open in this way?

how long must i carry this ache in the depths of my heart?

i feel stuck.

almost paralyzed.

almost as if life cannot move on while he is away.

but it does.

everything just keeps moving forward.

he moves forward too.

without us.

and i have to trust You.

more than i did before he left.

more than i want to.

is that the reason this is happening?

is that the reason things change so drastically?

so frequently?

so we trust You more?

so our faith increases?

so You become more

and we become less?

the joy of You Lord is my strength.

please flood our home and our hearts with Your peace.

please flood where he is and his heart with Your peace.

 

from numbness to elation

yesterday afternoon i felt pretty numb.  it scared me at first.  it seemed negative.  then i realized maybe it was God’s provision for me.  i could have been a crazy emotional mess, but instead, i was just still, quiet.     i wasn’t feeling much of anything.

it was hard to fall asleep last night.  it was hard to think about the baby-was he asleep already?  was he scared?  was he crying?  was he being treated well?

then it was morning and the fears entered my mind again. was he okay when he woke up?  was he looking for us?  was he crying out for us?

i entered our usual morning craziness.  having 6-7 children getting ready for a new day, all at one time can, be pretty crazy.

i made my way to Bible study.  with only two kiddos in tow, it was strange.  i kept thinking i was forgetting things-the diaper bag, the sippy cup, the extra snacks.  i felt numb again.  God’s provision again.

Bible study was good.  God has placed me in a group of wonderful women.  there was genuine concern and interest for our family.  there was prayer for our family.  peace for us, protection for the baby.

thank you to all who are praying for us.

this afternoon i got a call that i needed to pick him up early, not for any serious reasons, he’s just fine.

from numbness to elation.

he came back today instead of tomorrow.  gone for one night, not two.

God’s provision.  God’s protection.

i can’t do this

i feel like i can’t do this.

this constant opening of my hands.

this constant unknown.

this constant back and forth.

this constant wondering:

do i trust?

do i really have faith?

is it faith enough?

am i strong enough?

i haven’t updated in so long because so much has happened and there is so much i can’t share.  so much i don’t understand.  so much that doesn’t make sense.

it’s been more than three months since our littlest guy has been gone without his siblings and he’s going tomorrow.  for three days.  and there’s nothing i can do. i can’t change it.  i can’t stop it.

i must take him and place him in the arms of one who is a complete stranger to him.  i must get back in my van.  i must drive away.  i must come home and prepare lunch for his siblings. i must hold back my tears so they won’t see them and unlike me, they will believe their baby is going to be okay. i must silence the screams that will want to escape from my aching heart.  i must carry on as if it is a normal day.

i’m starting to feel this way all over again.  and it scares me.

i am crying out, desperately wanting peace in the midst of this suffering.  wanting calm in the midst of this storm.  Jesus, oh Jesus, my cornerstone, please be my strength.

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and for this sweet baby, who is asleep in his crib.  he has no idea what is coming.  no idea where he is going.  no idea where we will be and why we aren’t with him.  please Jesus, please, help him feel Your presence.  give him peace.  calm his heart and mind.  soothe his sadness.  dry his tears.  Jesus please.