Guest Blog!!!!

My first guest blog!!! Jann is a great friend who I have known for a long time.  She is an amazing mom, wife, and a great example what it looks life to follow God with all your heart.

I am so thankful for her influence in my life.

Read my guest blog entry at http://thereflectionofhim.blogspot.com

Then stick around for a while and let her words feed your soul.

In Need of Trees

I've wanted to write a number of times in the last two weeks.  However, I have been wiping noses, administering meds, and getting the house ready for Christmas.  I need all ten fingers to type and they have been very busy.  But, I'm not complaining.  Or, at least, I am really focusing on not complaining or letting my heart drift down that tempting road.

It's poison...and, I've learned this the hard way.

This is my daily challenge.  I wake up every morning with great intentions.  I want so badly to be a person who is thankful.  It is one of my deepest desires to be able to approach the tasks of the day with a heart of gratitude.  But everyday, well, almost everyday, I feel like I'm failing.

Often, it is when things get hard.

I sit in my big blue chair in the Little Man's room giving him a bottle or settling him down for a nap.  My mind wanders with to-do lists and want-to-do lists.  I am hopeful.  This time he is going to take his bottle and not fight me.  This time he is going to lay down for his nap and fall peacefully asleep.  Then, especially when I want it the most, those hopes resemble the likes of someone taking a baseball bat to a mirror...dashed...crashed...shards and fragments.

It is in these moments that I fail more than thrive.  I am so ashamed to admit it.  My sweet baby, whom 6 and a half months later I still can't quite figure out, doesn't understand why mommy is crying again.  My sweet toddler peaks through the door and whispers, "Let's be happy mommy!!!"


"Yes, let's be happy," is what I really want to say but instead all that comes out of my mouth is a harsh "Shhhhh..." and all that wells up in my heart are the reasons I can blame someone else for this mess of a moment.

My mind flies from loved one to loved one...it's all their faults.  I chuckle as I write it because it is so ridiculous, but, in the moment...in the mess...I have to find someone to blame.  Why do I think this will make it any better?  I don't know.

It seems that when I can't get things under control fear enters the picture.  As those scheming voices get louder I begin to believe the jagged thoughts that are racing through my mind and then my heart takes in more of that poison.

I complain, not necessarily out loud, but I do.  I take the posture of someone who thinks they are entitled.  It's really embarrassing actually.  If I were only to widen my focus and see the healthy, hearty boy in my arms and listen to the bright sweet voice on the other side of the door I might see the blessings.  I might find something to be thankful for.

Everyday I'm learning over again to stop placing my expectations in people, timetables and to-do lists.  This constant habit that has it's vice on on me ushers me into a "complaint fest".  When my expectations are not met my heart wells up with anxiety and I find myself taking the bait.  The words and thoughts sit on my heart and eventually sink in causing bitterness and self-pity...the antithesis of joy.

This is hard for me.  I'm a smiley person.  Joy is something that has always come easy.  I look at my two sweet children and feel the guilt well up because I am so blessed, so lucky to be their mama but for the life of me I can't muster up the joy.

This is when I know something must be done.  If I go on this way the poison that is overtaking me will begin to overflow onto the people around me, the little people especially.

So, I go to the Word.

It really is amazing.  I don't know how to actually describe it, but, every time, I experience healing.  I experience refreshing.  I experience conviction that leads to repentance that leads to a seed of gratitude, a seed that if watered grows exponentially.


"Hope deferred makes the heart sick,  but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life."
Proverbs 13:12


I have had a few days living with a sick heart.  What I need is a good look at the trees of life, the desires fulfilled.  These are what restore me.  These oaks, these trees draw in the living water that replenishes and refreshes.

Joy wells up and the complaining voices fade.

In high school I realized I needed to wear glasses.  I borrowed my friends on the bus ride home one day.  I will never forget what the trees looked like...such beauty, such detail, such life.

Tonight I am remembering desires fulfilled.

The man I married...

The babies sleeping in their beds...

The life long friends...

the family who loves and cares...

the opportunities...

the promises kept...

the smiles...the belly laughs...the joy.

I know the struggle is not over.  Tomorrow holds new challenges.  So, tonight I'm praying.

Lord, help me.  Help me see.  Remind me to water these seeds you planted tonight.  May they grow into trees of life.  Strong ones with deep roots, not easily blown over by the winds of adversity.

Thank you for fulfilling so much of my heart's desire.

Crying Out

Sweet baby kisses...it doesn't get any better than this.

Sniff, sniff, sip.  Sniff, sniff, sip.  This is me right now.  No, I'm not crying at this moment but I feel like I've been hit by a bus.  It is with a bad head cold and a re-heated cup of coffee that I find myself typing this morning.

Mommy and the Bug with our sick eyes...all four of us are sniffling.

This week started high and came crashing down.  Monday, I was so happy.  We had just come off the long weekend, we celebrated and had a grand ol' time.  The kiddos were extra loved on with all the extra people around.  They were happy little cherubs.  That was the calm before the storm...literally.

Christmas at Disneyland...LOVE IT.

If you've read A Lesson from Amy, the night that finally gave me something to write about and what started my blog entries, you know I have a sweet Little Man who has had trouble sleeping.  It has been a long road since that 8 week old caused me to cry out to God in a way I hadn't in a long while.

Well, this week brought me to my knees again.

Not only is Little Man's night sleep a problem, his napping is not very spectacular either.  Just like his big sister he has been a cat napper...with moments of break through that cause me to hope we are turning a corner.  Then with the next day or the next nap my hopes are dashed...and so goes our days.

Sick and sleepy...of course he slept for two hours while I held him this afternoon.

On Wednesday this week I was having one of those "Super" days where nothing goes according to plan; the anxiety and frustration well up to the tipping point.  I was either going to implode or explode...either way it was not going to be pretty.   I put both kiddos in their beds and got in the shower, also known as my prayer closet, and cried out...I said my ugly thoughts out loud and prayed for mercy.  As I turned the streaming water off I crossed my fingers, hoping that God would take pity on me and there would be silence.  Alas, to no avail, the silenced shower head left ample room for the volume of my screaming children.  My ears were burning with their wails and that voice of self-condemnation..."Wow...aren't you mother of the year..."

I quickly dressed and grabbed a hair brush to brush out my hair before my hands were full again...and lo and behold, I brushed back my hair to find, to my horror, two spots on the corners of my head BALDING!!!  I kid you not, a few days ago there was hair and at that moment I saw scalp!  Ugly, white scalp that had never seen the sun!  SCALP.  It's not even a pretty word.  Tears immediately.  I called the Fly and said through choking sobs, after I was sure he was by himself, "I'm losing my hair!!!!"  He came home.

I cried and we discussed what it could be: hormones, Post Partum (even though this didn't happen with The Bug), because I stopped nursing, sleep deprivation, stress, etc.  We knew a trip to the doc was in order for me but in the mean time I needed to sleep.  The Fly banished me to the guest room and geared up for the storm ahead that night.

Bless his heart.  At 5:30am he came into the guest room and asked if I could come into our bed to stay with both babies.  He had to go outside and try to fix the Christmas lights that were "whapping"  against the window.  The wind had been blowing hard keeping the small people awake most of the night.  The Bug does not sleep well in our bed...she's wild and easily distracted from sleep...so she was not interested in sleeping and kept waking up the Little Man.  The howling wind and rattling walls did not help either but I didn't know about any of this until the gentle nudge just before dawn.

As the Fly stumbled out the door to work I was refreshed and ready to tackle this sleep issue with some clarity.  Sure, I was minus a few strands of hair, but I was determined to fix our problem.

I began the morning praying for direction, more clarity and that I would be sensitive to the promptings of the Holy Spirit.  I wanted to be a good mom that day to make up for my behavior the day before.

After some consideration I made my decision.  Little Man was going to have to learn how to soothe himself to sleep, otherwise, his mama would be bald, his daddy would turn into a Zombie and his big sister would be calling all the shots.

Now let me be clear...I do not fall on either side of the fence in the cry it out, don't cry it out argument.  Of course, I would prefer to not have to let me sweet babies cry but I had tried everything up to this point and this was my last resort.  I do not judge you if you let your babies sleep with you until they're 5, (as I did with my parents...probably why I'm so concerned about my kids sleeping in their own beds,) and I don't judge you if you let your little ones cry to teach them to fall asleep on their own....A mama's got to do what  a mama's got to do...she's got to love her babies and she has to be sane...at least a little bit anyway.

So the training began.  I went in at five minutes, then ten minutes, then 15 minutes, then 20 minutes.  I really don't remember much as it was a constant cry fest.  During one of the intervals I opened my Bible.  I had been feeling a little convicted since I have read almost every sleep book there is (please excuse this slight exaggeration...but I have read a lot!)  and hardly cracked The Word open in the last few days.  I came across Psalm 86 and not only did it speak to me but it shouted at me!

Psalm 86

A prayer of David. ¹ Hear me, LORD, and answer me,
   for I am poor and needy.
² Guard my life, for I am faithful to you;
   save your servant who trusts in you.
You are my God; ³ have mercy on me, Lord,
   for I call to you all day long.
⁴ Bring joy to your servant, Lord,
   for I put my trust in you.
 ⁵ You, Lord, are forgiving and good,
   abounding in love to all who call to you.
⁶ Hear my prayer, LORD;
   listen to my cry for mercy.
⁷ When I am in distress, I call to you,
   because you answer me.

I cried this out as my son cried out.  I cried out.  The Bug was playing and I was praying.   Again, I found myself begging God for sleep for my sweet baby.  I just knew that if he could soothe himself to sleep we would all be better for it.

Now, this is where I wish I could wrap up this entry nice and neat with a sweet message on how God answers our prayers but it wasn't nice and neat at all.  

All day that day and the next I let my sweet son cry it out.  Every time I left his crib he would sob.  It was a different kind of sob.  The kind that said to my soul, "Mommy, please don't leave me!"  I ached.  I cried.  I rearranged furniture.  I played worship music.  I played Christmas music.  I prayed more.  The Bug prayed with me.  Yet, he still cried.  There were a few times he fell asleep for about 15 or 20 minutes and I rejoiced thinking, "Finally!" but it would not last.

I created this to keep my hands busy

By 4:00pm yesterday I was done.  He had been crying for an hour and a half.  Even typing it makes my skin crawl and my eyes water.  I let him cry.  I let him cry for 90 minutes.  Finally, I went in and picked him up.  In seconds he was soothed...and then, a giant, heart melting smile that brought on mixed feelings of relief and guilt.

We stopped the process that night. We came home from a Christmas party and he was teething badly and very stuffed up.    He slept snuggled in close to his daddy. This morning he woke up sick.  I'm trying not to blame myself but it's hard.

I just want him to sleep.  I want him to be healthy.  I want him to love his crib.  As I've been reflecting on all of this I am once again reminded that God's perspective is so much greater than mine.

I was really angry.  Why wouldn't he answer these prayers.  It wasn't like I was asking for everything I touched to be turned to gold...I was asking for the basic needs of my child.

Then today a whisper aroused my heart.  I have been working through the book of Ruth, slowly.  In the beginning of the second chapter it talks about how Ruth happened to be in Boaz's part of the field.  The book of Ruth is a beautiful example of God's providence and how what we might consider happenstance is actually part of the larger perspective only He can see.

When I read through that I asked God what happenstance was upon me that day?  Looking back I now understand that I happened upon a struggle that day.  I may not like it or understand, it but it was part of my story...it was part of the Little Man's story.

With these thoughts my perspective has changed.  I happen to have a son who does not sleep well.  This is part of my story.  A person I love happens to have a baby who is having the hardest time nursing.  This is part of her story.  Three other people I love happen to have a hard time getting pregnant.  It's painful, but it's part of their stories.

Our problem does not lie in the happenstance but instead how we view it.  We all happen upon struggles; it is the posture we choose to take that determines how it affects our story.  We have a choice on how to view these moments as circumstance or happenstance.  We can easily view it as a punishment, we can easily view it as being forgotten.  It is much harder to view it as a piece of the narrative that reveals the redemptive work of Christ in our lives.

We have all cried out, whether it be as a helpless infant or helpless adult.  We have all experienced our prayers not being answered.  But, today, I want to remember that my God hears me.  My God sees my tears.  My God has compassion on me.  And, that is why I have the privilege of seeing my circumstances as his hand-picked happenstances.  It's part of my story.

Love those rolls.

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