Yep I'm a Mom - Not a Step Anything

In 1 Kings 3:16-27 there is a story that has always struck right to my heart. It's the story of two prostitutes who both had sons. One died and the dead child's mother took the live child. When the other mother realizes this they argue and go before King Solomon for him to determine their case. In his wisdom he threatens to split the child in half and immediately the true mother is willing to give him up to spare his life.

“Then the king answered and said, "Give the living child to the first woman, and by no means put him to death; she is his mother."”
‭‭1 Kings‬ ‭3:27‬ ‭ESV‬

What a powerful story of being a mother. 

Sometimes being a mother sucks.  Recently I read an article about mothering as a step mother and the challenges that come with being a step parent.  it gave some great insight and reminded me that we always choose how we respond to our circumstances.  Whatever they are - good or bad we choose how we react and how we use our influence in all our relationships.

I'm on my second go around as a "step" mother and I have made the choice to not be a step anything but to just be a mother.  I chose that role long before I got married the first time. I was always "mothering"/nurturing someone else.  It's part of my nature.  So when I worked with teenagers in residential treatment I utilized that nurture nature and it was hard to maintain the boundaries because I just wanted to mother. 

Sometimes  (really all the time) we have to choose to let our kids go in order to give them life.  Our role is really just to help them to a place of growth where we work ourselves out of a job. And that is really hard.  Deep down in our hearts as a mom or step mom or foster mom or caretaker or wishing I was a mom - we just want to help those in our lives become great adults.  Loving, caring people who become great parents themselves someday.

Lately the reality of my place as a mom has been even more challenging.  Mostly because I can get in my head and and wallow a bit.  My kids are far away (really only a few hours) and they are farther away than my mothering skills can reach.  My mom job is really mostly done with my kids and the kids I've acquired in my first and now second marriage are also grown - and well they have moms.  They don't really need step moms which is really as it should be. 

My kids are blessed with a second mom.  When they are with their father, she gets to "mom" them and does a great job.  My job as a step mom was limited for various reasons so really I wasn't needed to parent them.  And just as my kids are now grown - so are they.

Now, however, we are looking forward to grand kids.  That is so beyond exciting. I consider my two grand kids from my first marriage as mine even though I missed out on most of their growing years and thankfully I keep up with them through social media as much as possible since they live further away.  My kids aren't quite to the kid stage and I have a deep down feeling that when they are to that stage they won't live next door.  Being involved with them will require extra effort on our parts.

Therein is my current mom dilemma.  You see I have a new grand baby, sweet Emerson Grace, on the way.  The thing about grand parenting is you want to be involved in all the prep and planning and cute and fun stuff.  Especially as a mom.   Yet this time its really not needed on my part.  I get to support prayerfully and spoil indulgently. 

It's funny really.  You never stop "momming".  It's the whole nurturing part of you that struggles with wanting to be involved. Wanting to know the daily details of your kids lives - even when they don't want you to - and don't sleep under your roof anymore. 

My therapist husband asked this question while I was whining about my lack of involvement in the lives of my kids and kids by marriage. What void are you trying to fill?  I've spent a little time mulling that over.  You see the wallowing was starting to take me under.  Too much life in a short time was trying to overwhelm this introverted control freak.  And I think I finally have an answer for him.  It's not really that I want to fill up anything lacking, I just still haven't exactly found my place outside of being his wife.

My own mom was just diagnosed with a third round of cancer.  Uterine this time.  And being so far way and not seeing first hand that makes this control freak struggle.  That's the void.  The control void.   Since I can't be right there with my mom, I can't be right there with my kids - so I want to be right here with the other kids and anyone else who comes along - trying to mom.

But that's not my job.  Really my role as the "step" mom is to support the "mom".  I can be there if they need an ear or extra hands or some random something.  What my role really is, is to be the wife.  To support their dad and their relationship with him.  That's my role with my kids father and my role with my husband.  Love him so well that he can love his kids the best he can. 

I call it trickle down love.  (Kind of like a slinky on steps).  The better I love and support their father the better he can be the father they need or want involved in their lives.  You see it's never been about me and it shouldn't be.

So I'm a mom.  A mom who has to remember that the only way to fill any void in my life is to fill it with my Father.  The one who knows what hard parenting is and called us His family while sacrificing His only Son.

Mark 3:35 says "For whoever does the will of God, he is my brother and sister and mother."

So, today, be a mom, dad, sister, brother - family to all you come across.  Love like Jesus loved.

And I'll keep being the mom He made me to be.

It's All About Control

Sometimes I think I have life all under control. When I feel like it's spinning out of control I do the things that I can actually control. Like cleaning house, cutting my hair, coloring my hair, piercing my ears or even getting tattoos.

I've done all those things at one time or another just to feel like I can control something. We think we can control our lives. Make decicions and choices and just like that we will be happy and secure. But then something "lifey" happens. A car breaks down, the ac breaks, the kids choose to do life differently than we think they should or they just go back to college and things change again. And what all that we thought we could control goes spinning like tires on black ice. Fast and furiously heading to the edge of insanity we get freaked out.

I think that's why I like tattoos. They are like permanent markers of something i can't control. I got my first one about ten years ago when my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer. There was nothing I could do. My mom was already a survivor so I got a pink ribbon with the word hope to just say I can't do anything but pray and hope and try to support you. I got a new one this weekend. A permanent reminder that God holds my kids in His hands. That no matter what I do or say or wish for them, ultimately it's out of my control. We got matching tattoos my kids and I. Not exactly the same but similar with one common item- a red heart. Because no matter where we go in life or how far they roam our hearts will always be connected. But I can't control their lives or mine. I just have to trust God.

Trust is hard. So very hard and so out of control.  Because trusting God is admitting that I don't have control. None. Not a drop. I can't make everything and everyone be what I want.  Only God can. And when I feel so out of control I just have to remind myself that I am not in control and not let the feelings overwhelm me. And to not let the enemy use my mind against me. I don't have to be in control. I just have to trust the one who is.

“"Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid; for the Lord God is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation."”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭12:2‬ ‭ ESV

Through the Fire

Today I turn 51. It's my birthday. I am what people today call a rainbow baby. Before they had me my parents lost a baby. My older brother Kenneth Dale didn't survive birth. If he had I would not have been here. My dad was serving in Vietnam and was only allowed to come home briefly.  The result was me.

Two days ago I celebrated my rainbow baby's 19th birthday. I never fully understood the significance of a rainbow baby until I had my own. The lessons I've learned in the past 51 years all seem to be a direct result of loss. 

As a Christian I continue to learn the importance of loss. I don't like it but I understand it so much more as I grow older. Each loss lesson I experience has the ability to tear me down or draw me closer to the God I gave my life to many years ago. It makes the things in life so much more precious. 

Just this past week we experienced a week without air conditioning. If you know anything about living in the south you understand why that is a significant loss. We lost the cooling air that keeps the humidity and heat at a minimum. We got hot and sticky and even with multiple fans and a couple of window units it was bearable but not quite as cool. When they finished replacing the air conditioner and I came home to a cool house I had a deeper appreciation for cool air. 

Loss does that. It gives you a deeper appreciation of what you have lost and what you still have. For me loss gives me a greater appreciation of relationships. With God, with my family and friends. Over the years I have had different types of losses. Some good and some really bad and some that were significantly necessary. They helped me shed the hard edges of me and help me learn more about how to be like Christ. 

Today as I see post after post on my Facebook telling me happy birthday I am amazed by the various people all over the world who I've been privileged to meet and know in my years on earth. I can't help but wonder how many I have forgotten or harmed in some way. I know I am far from perfect and God continues to break off the rough edges and I am grateful for those painful lessons. 

So as I reflect on the losses that have shaped me I just want to say to all who know me. Forgive me if I've forgotten or harmed you and thank you all for being a part of all that God is doing in my life. Someday I hope to see you all together in heaven and sit at the feet of my Savior and rejoice in the fires I've been through. 

“Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭48:10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Why I Married a Drunk - an Uncommon Love Story

I wanted to title this - Why I Married an Alcoholic, but Mike insisted he was a drunk.  To me alcoholic sounded better - you know - for appearance sake.  But the reality is drunk or alcoholic - they mean the same thing. One may be viewed as more politically correct but technically they are both alcohol addicts.

So, yes, I married a drunk.  Knowingly, whole heartedly bound my life to a man who struggled with addiction.  It was hard and messy and beautiful all at the same time.  Today I want to tell you why.

In 1984, I met Mike at college.  I was a freshman, new and scared of just being away from home by myself and excited to be a part of a great Baptist College.
He was one of the first friends I made.  We talked and shared and did the things of the Baptist Student Union together.  He was funny, kind and a lot crazy.  He was my friend.  We never dated, as a matter of fact I dated his younger brother off and on from my sophomore year until I was a senior.  We graduated and went our separate ways.  Both married to other people and yet destined to come together again.

When my first marriage ended I was quickly overcome with fear and loss.  I allowed the darkness of the "what ifs" and the potential of being alone to carry me to a very dark place.  God was working to break down some areas of judgment and pride that I didn't even realize existed.  He used the time to open a crack in my armor that would eventually shatter into a million pieces.

In 2012, almost two years after my divorce I received a message from Mike.  We had very limited contact in the past twenty years or so and I had heard from him and some of his family shortly after my divorce in 2010 in some passing social media messages but nothing of significance.  He messaged to tell me that he was going through a divorce.  At the time I knew he was an alcoholic because I was told by others of his struggles.  As a friend I offered an encouraging word and an ear with the hopes that as I was now through my dark time (or so I thought), maybe I could somehow help him see the light that would come at the end of his dark time.

I thought I understood what alcoholism was.  I also thought if someone had a good enough reason they would want to be sober.  I quickly learned I was naive and trusting and in for a very large come to Jesus meeting.

The Mike I came to know the second time was not the confident, fun loving Mike I knew from college.  He was broken and depressed and so angry.  He was struggling and though he told me of his struggles with alcohol I believed him to be sober and I fell in love.  Because underneath the anger and depression and brokenness I got glimpses of the Mike I used to know and the amazing man that was drowning in alcohol.

I saw a man whose compassion was overwhelming.  He saw the hurt in people and he saw me.  He saw parts of me that no one else saw.  The broken, scared parts that only God knew.

We dated for a while and when the first drunken episode happened I tried to be strong. I was much stronger than I had ever been explaining to him that I had to maintain boundaries for me and my kids which meant he had to be sober.  Regretfully it took a couple of more episodes of drunken behavior and a trip to jail before God decided that it was time to break me apart so He could start to rebuild.

When Mike was in jail God broke some parts of my insecurities into pieces. God reminded me that ultimately I needed to remember that the love He offered through His Son Jesus would fill all my voids and I was never truly alone.  And then God called me to show uncommon love to this man who was a drunk.  To offer forgiveness and continue to love him.  This time with more boundaries and some structure and the realization that if our relationship ended I would be okay.
And then it ended. I discovered I had been lied to and that was where I really had to just walk away.  I said goodbye to a piece of my heart and as I did the pieces of me shattered.  And then - God.  God reached in and started to really do the hard work.  He revealed my deepest fears and showed me that faith was more than words.  It was trusting a God who knew so much more than I did.

God showed me that the love I had for Mike wasn't enough.  I couldn't fix him. I couldn't love him into sobriety.  I couldn't fix me or my kids or Mike's kids or any of the things that he had broken or any of the things that I had broken.

God showed me an uncommon love.  He reached into the deep, into the darkest parts of me and shined the light of revelation over my co-dependent, enabling, controlling tendencies and there was only one thing left for me to do.

Love God.
Not just with my words.
But with my time.
My energy.
My whole being.
Even if it meant I was never going to have the happily ever after.  Even if it meant I would die alone.  I just needed to love God.

And for the next few months God tore pieces of me and began to show me pride and judgment and even in my church I looked at broken people from a different perspective.  Where once I felt like I had it all together I suddenly realized that I was just as broken - just as ugly - just as much a sinner or crazy person as anyone else.  I wasn't any better because I grew up in church.  I wasn't any less broken because I knew Jesus and read my Bible.  All the "religion" suddenly seemed very fake and very wrong.  I realized that what I really needed to do was love God - to be like Jesus and love like Jesus.

After saying goodbye to Mike, God began a work in Mike as well.  A few months later I began to see just how big a work God was really doing.  Mike and I started talking again.  Where I thought there would be the inability to trust - God healed.  Where I was afraid I would question the reality of sobriety God showed me what He had done. God had broken Mike and was putting him back together piece by piece.  We started talking again and this time it wasn't just words.  The actions of sobriety began to speak through Mike.  The one thing I told Mike earlier was I wanted him to be well - not just sober - but the best Mike he could be - whether with or without me.  I knew then it was an uncommon love because if I didn't get to have a relationship with him I wanted him to be the Mike that i saw before he got sober.

That was almost four years ago and we've been married now one week shy of a year.  In that time God has done miraculous things in our lives.  Mike is helping broken people and his compassion and understanding and brutal honesty make him an incredible counselor.  God has restored all that was lost and bound us both together. The difference being that we both daily strive to seek God first.  I don't try to fix him and he doesn't try to fix me.  We seek God and strive to encourage each other to be the best we can be.

We are so far from perfect and in a world that looks for love to fill the voids that haunt our souls Mike and I have found the only love that can fill the broken pieces of our lives.  Not our love for each other but our love for God.  His love is the love that pours out of the cracks of our lives and binds us to each other.  We share an uncommon love - one that only God can give.

I love you Mike.  Happy almost one year.

1 Corinthians 13:13 "So now faith, hope and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love."



This post was inspired by the book Uncommon: Living a Life of Purpose and Pursuit by Carey Scott. You can learn more about the book and order it at http://careyscott.org/uncommon/.

I Wish I Was Wonder Woman

Back in my younger years Lynda Carter played Wonder Woman and I wanted to grow up to be just like her. She was gorgeous and smart and strong. I had the same color hair, I just needed blue eyes and muscles and to be beautiful like her.

On Sunday I got to see the new Wonder Woman movie and I loved it. I have always been a fan of the comic book heroes and especially Wonder Woman. I realized something. I don't think I want to be Wonder Woman for the same reasons anymore. As nice as it might be to be as fit and strong and capable of handling life as her the thing I admired most in this movie was her heart of kindness.

She wanted to save the world. To help people find the good in themselves so they wouldn't be at war and fighting each other. Isn't that what we could use today. A lot more kindness. We have lost our ability to be kind. We have become so selfish and if it doesn't help our personal cause or if someone doesn't have our same opinion we spew hate and ugliness. It really is a sad world we live in. I've been reading a book by Carey Scott called Uncommon and it is so great. It is a reminder that as believers we should strive to be uncommon. One of the biggest ways we can do that is to just be kind. In our world today being kind is uncommon. It's not the norm.

So like Wonder Woman I want to be kind. Even better than Wonder Woman is the example we have in Jesus. His uncommon kindness reaches beyon anything we are capable of.

So today I really just want to be like Jesus.



http://bible.com/59/gal.5.22.esv

The Best Mom Ever

I've seen these words all over social media today.  It's kind of hard to miss since it's Mother's Day. I know I've said it and it's even been said of me. The thing is there is no supermom or wonder woman or perfect mother. There are just a bunch of broken women hoping they get at least a few things right and don't destroy their kids with the things they get wrong.

Many times I have seen something another mom does with her children and think that I should do that or man I hope I don't do that. Comparing my mothering to someone else's and thinking I've failed or my kids have missed out on something. The truth is that I'm not perfect. I'm a broken vessel with imperfect children and I had imperfect parents. None of us are perfect. Not now or ever will we be perfect. 

Today our message was on how to forgive. The biggest person we need to forgive being ourselves. We compare ourselves and judge our mistakes and somehow believe that if we could have only done something better or different then we would be the perfect mom and our kids would be happy and healthy and wealthy and wise. Living perfect easy lives because we mothered so well. 

That is the biggest lie we can tell ourselves. I fully believe that it is only in our willingness to fully take hold of our brokenness and recognize that all of mankind is broken will we succeed at parenting well. Because then and only then will our children feel like they can just be human and not have to live up to the illusion of perfection. 

Our amazing God gives us grace and mercy and the love we need to allow us to be imperfect and broken. And really if we can just teach our children that it's okay to be broken then they will realize that a loving God forgives and uses the broken pieces to build us into what He sees our lives can be. 

I am blessed to have amazing children. The only thing I pray is that if I taught them nothing else that they learned that God is really all they need. They don't need me and they don't need anything other than to seek the God who created them for a great purpose. 

Beyond my children I've been blessed to encounter many that I count as mine.  There are many hurting mommas in the world. Those who've lost or never held a child. Those who've seen their children wander so far that they seem lost forever. Those who influenced so many children just by loving like Christ even if they weren't their kids. 

To all you mom's I hope you just remember that the God who formed you is the same God who formed your kids and He doesn't make mistakes.  So stop comparing and striving for an illusion that we can't measure up to. Forgive yourself and let go of what is and just love. 

“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.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139:13-14‬ ‭ESV‬

Scattered Pictures

In my house are many pictures.  Some are in frames. Some on phones and electronic devices that are beyond recovery.  Some are scattered around in boxes and books.

There is one set of pictures that are in a folder in a bag in the back of drawer in my file cabinet.  Those pictures are of my daughter. They are the only pictures I have of her.  For years looking at them and the few items I have of her only brought guilt.

Recently a friend lost her baby and got some bad news all in a very short amount of time.  I was immediately struck with heartache for her and I thought of my Sarah. It also reminded me of how much guilt we tend to carry as we grieve.  I think that of all the emotions we deal with during grief, guilt is the hardest to overcome.

Everyone processes loss differently and I know grief is a love language but it can also bring so much guilt that we can get stuck in the sorrow and not move past the grief .  We dwell on all the things we think we could have done differently or not done.

Loss doesn't have to mean death.  No matter what we are grieving there is often still guilt.

Guilt over a broken relationship.         

Guilt over the loss of normal.
Guilt over infertility.
Guilt over choices that created loss.

We grieve the loss of normal or what we think normal should be and there is guilt even in that.

When I was in elementary school I lost three grandparents.  The first death that left a huge impact was my paternal grandfather.  I was the first to ever write him a letter and the letter I received back expressed his pride and joy in that.  When he died shortly after and then my other grandfather died after I wrote him a letter, in my young mind I associated my letters with the reason for their deaths. I felt so guilty.  It took quite a few years for my mind to grow enough to let go of that guilt.

The loss of my daughter Sarah Elizabeth was even more guilt ridden.  As a mom carrying a baby I just knew there was something I did or should have done differently that would have allowed her to live.  It took a while and a Sunday School lesson I was teaching my 5th grade class to break me free of that guilt.

It all came down to these verses. Psalm 139:13-16. Verse sixteen especially struck me.  "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."

That verse reminded me that God knew each moment of my life, even before I was formed, and He was present with my Sarah in my body before her body was even formed.  Wow! I had nothing to feel guilty for.  God escorted my baby the whole time she was being formed and dying.

Guilt is a tool of satan.  If he can keep us feeling guilty about our loss - whatever it may be then he can isolate us from those who can lift us up and encourage us.  From those who've walked in our darkness and found the light.  And most importantly from the God who knew us before our cells were even merged together.

I pray that if you are reading this and are struggling with guilt in your situation that you will lay it at the feet of the God who knows you and your circumstance better than you know yourself.

Psalms 3:3 - "But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head."