Parenting

Embracing my calling as HOMEmaker

Standard

Image

On my day-off from work, I look ahead at the day… the sticky messes, tall laundry piles, empty pantry, and long to-do lists to make home for my family. It is a day that is mundane and yet it is one of the most important I have all week. My resume says I am a Minister to Youth. My paycheck and our daycare bills tell that I am a working mom. And yet, at the heart of it, I am first and foremost a HOMEmaker.

For some, my calling as a HOMEmaker will be perceived as traditional and predictable. Some might assume it to be old school or even a role of gender discrimination. My previous-self would judge my current-self. I would reject this calling for I am a supporter of women’s rights and daughter of the modern age.

Life has a way of changing you. Parenthood has a way of changing you. Continue reading

Dancing in the Tension

Standard
Image

Snow blankets the streets.  I hold him close to me as I dance him around the rug, dodging Legos and Little People which litter the room.  Cheek pressed against his cheek, I hum and try to quiet the stubbornness that fights sleep within him.

Out the window, beyond the falling snow, a house nearby smolders from an early morning fire. News reports tell that the fire ended a man’s life.  Time stands still and I imagine his mother standing next to his crib, dancing around the room as she feels the breath rise and fall from his chest.  Where is she now…the day he breathed his last? Continue reading

It is Well With My Soul

Standard

The cries pierce my sleep.  I wait it out a few moments and listen to determine if they are the cries of a momentary disturbance or if they are the cries of nighttime need.  I walk to the room and rub his back.  His arm reaches around to touch mine.  Finding my hand, he wraps his fingers around mine.  The cries cease and in the silence, he holds on and finds his calm again.

Eight months old, I am still his refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  One of the greatest privileges of parenthood is getting to be the peace my little one needs – to be the arms that make everything alright.  During the early months when the needs are concrete and specific (food, diaper, sleep), parenthood means being the one to anticipate, notice, and satisfy.

When the oldest wakes now, I venture down to his room the same I did when he was young.  Now, though, there are some night terrors where I struggle to break him out of the crying.  I hold him close in his little bed and try to whisper those words, ancient and sacred, “Do not fear, I am here with you.”

And yet the words and my presence do not hold the magic power they once did.  Right before my eyes, my oldest is growing up.  The chubby cheeks are dissipating and his physique is more “boy” than toddler.  As his vocabulary grows, he is becoming more and more aware of his surrounding.  He is beginning to taste the Great Sadness Continue reading

The Christmas Alarm

Standard

A new frame holds an old picture on my chest of drawers. Smiles beam on their young faces. Oldest has his arms wrapped around mother and father. Youngest holds on tight to mother. Mother and daughter’s hands intertwined. The photo speaks of promise and hope. Dreams and the unknown.

TIME rushes like a racing train through a tunnel as the voice of my youngest pierces the silence. I am no longer the young daughter clinging tightly to my mother. I am now the mother.

How is it that TIME can suddenly go off like an alarm – causing me to sit up and in the haze of sleepiness, wonder where I am and how I got here? Continue reading

the baby is out. the belly is empty.

Standard

Scanning the piles of winter clothes still not given their proper place in my closet, I stand in frustration as I try to pick out the clothes for the day.  Squeals begin over the monitor from my six-month-old whose hunger demands my presence.  It is another morning in which I must find the right loose-fitting top that covers up the belly that remains from pregnancy.

I am blessed to have been able to carry two children in pregnancy and to have access to medical professionals who delivered them safely via caesarean section. My children are the ultimate source of joy and gratitude, AND YET how is it that I look at my belly with contempt now that it is empty? Continue reading

To Know the Heart of a C-Section

Standard

Machines beeped as the straps monitored the baby squirming around in my belly.  Little room left, we were only hours away from meeting him for the first time.  We settled in for the long labor ahead… a book in my dad’s hands, needlepointing in my mother’s hands, and an iPhone in Drew’s hands. I leaned back and closed my eyes.  Unable to take in all the anticipation, I tried to quiet my mind but I couldn’t help but wonder about the pain and ecstasy of bringing this baby into the world.

Breaking the silence, the nurses came flooding in.  Drew stood to read the monitors and my parents emptied their hands as the nurses acted.  They were quick, calm, but anxious – turning me on my side and placing the oxygen mask on my mouth.  “The baby’s heart-rate is too low – he can’t handle these long contractions.”  A needle stuck in my side aided in returning his heart-rate to normal but the words “you will probably need a c-section” lingered in the air. Continue reading

Mornings: Speeding Up and Slowing Down

Standard

Mornings are chaos.  As a working mom with two young kids married to an orthopedic resident whose gone way before my alarm goes off, mornings require me to muster all the brain-power, patience, and parenting power I have within me to get out the door.  By the time I get both boys fed, dressed, in the car, out of the car, and get the oldest to his classroom, I feel like high-fives and exploding confetti would be appropriate for my accomplishment.

As I walk the youngest into the infant room, my pace slows and my heart gets heavier.  No longer speeding up, I slow down. I slowly unbuckle him from his car seat and take off his blanket, hat, and pacifier clip.  I pick him up and hold him close for one second more.  Cheek-to-cheek, I breathe in that sweet baby smell, I squeeze him close, and whisper “I love you” one last time.

I love my job and I feel great calling and purpose in what I do.  But that moment with my youngest in my arms is one of the hardest moments every day. Continue reading

Fragility, Fear, Gratitude

Standard

Coming back in my office, I listened to the voicemail from daycare – “James had an accident… he’s ok, but…”  The world stands still.  The awareness that my son had been hurt, had experienced pain, had cried out and I had been elsewhere – unable to hug, comfort, and wipe tears.

It ended up being nothing too bad, but I was aware that with the smallest change in the accident, it would have been everything.  One inch higher and it would have scratched the eyeball – it could have meant loss of sight, loss of parental peace and confidence, loss of life as we know it.

Driving to pick him up that afternoon, I entered that space – the space where life stands still.  It is the frightening space where the Fragility of life rears its ugly head and demands that you pay attention.  It’s as if you realize Fragility has been living in your house and you didn’t even see it. Continue reading

Baby Boy’s Dedication

Standard

Our words of dedication at Highland on August 28, 2013

Within these stone walls with their bursts of color, we have marked so many of life’s most sacred moments before this cloud of witnesses.  Here, I was dedicated as a baby, baptized, and ordained – and here, we were married and dedicated our first child as we entered into this journey of parenthood.  Today, it is our great honor and delight to come before you this day to dedicate our second child to God and to this beloved community. Continue reading