A Long Soak

It's been a long winter, and we have had enough snow that the severity of our drought status has been lowered. I love snow, and it's been a lovely season, but we've been ready for spring for a few weeks.

Twice in the past month, I have been blessed to be able to take advantage of some local hot springs. The first time, there was still snow in the air. The second time, it felt like spring; the only telltale signs of the snow were the plow piles we had to climb over in the parking lot.

Both soaks were long and relaxing, even with the children along. The water is delightfully warm and peaceful. It was delightful!

In between my two long soaks, I read an article online about reading God's Word. It used the verb "soak" in reference to spending time in the Bible, as in "We should soak (spend time immersed in) God's Word." I've heard this phrase before, but it never struck me as it did this time.

To soak in God's Word. Not to read it quickly through because you have a commitment to read the Bible in a year (or two or three). Not to read it in small sections in a devotional book. Not to randomly open your Bible and read a page. (Not that there's anything wrong with any of those things!)

But to intentionally linger and dawdle and immerse yourself in a section of the Bible. 

So I decided to try it. I picked the Psalms because I, like many of you, am interrupted a thousand times a day by small humans. Psalms seemed understandable, even with a thousand interruptions. And I began to soak. I am reading, rereading, and rereading two pages a day. I read yesterday's two pages and today's two pages over and over and over. So each two-page segment gets two days of soaking, and on some days I go back to the beginning of the book of Psalms and reread all of the Psalms I've read. Sometimes I read the same small section repeatedly because it catches my attention somehow.

I love soaking. The hot springs are delightful, but God's Word is eternal. Reading the Psalms this way has deepened my love for God's Word. It has increased my understanding of the Psalms. It has focused my attention on God instead of Words with Friends or any other app. I highly recommend soaking.

Amen.

A Tough Day

Today was a hard day. Really hard. Trauma-mama hard. I'm not going to share the details of this day, but I will tell you about some hard trauma-mama days I've had in the past with some of my foster and/or adopted children. Again, please do not attribute these details to the children currently in my home, even though I am writing each story as if it is current. I'm changing some identifying information, but know that these stories are real. Childhood trauma is real, and it affects every single thing a child does.

For example, there is a child who will not sleep with a door open. I cannot enter his room at night because it triggers memories of an abuser that crept into his darkened room. Once, I urgently needed an item that was in that bedroom, and I didn't wake the child up. He awoke in terror and lived in terror for several days.

There is the one who explodes in anger continually. The physical abuse from him is extremely difficult to take. We've tried medications, hospitalizations, and therapies. Nothing seems to work. Surviving is about as good as it gets with this child. I can't figure out and avoid his triggers. I don't know how to reach him to let him know he's safe and loved. I am physically and emotionally drained in his presence. I am in fear for myself and the other children in my home and neighborhood and school. I am helpless and hopeless more than I'd like to admit.

Then there are the days when we have multiple potty accidents with a child that is too old to be facing accidents. Accidents happen for days after every single encounter with her father. Sometimes we go months without seeing this child's father, and she is dry and clean for months. Then we run into her biological father, and there are days of anxious accidents. More laundry than you can imagine. 

And there is a child who struggles years into placement with our family. Struggles to accept imperfections from herself. Struggles to learn anything new because that would mean admitting she doesn't already know everything. Struggles to the point of spending hours defending an innocent mistake, denying that she didn't know how to accomplish some task correctly. Fights and argues to maintain her image of perfection because to admit imperfection means she is worthless. This attitude was ingrained before we met her, and she pays the price for it every day.

Then there is the meltdown king. At an age when he should be able to use words to express feelings, this child goes into classic "flight or fight" during any confrontation. Something as simple as, "Please put away your toys" throws him into a full-on panic, complete with screaming and kicking. "It's time to go home from the park," triggers running away and hiding.

It's exhausting. It's incessant and intense. After a day filled with trauma-triggers and trauma-related-responses, I am ready for bed at suppertime. I struggle to maintain my peaceful responses. I desperately need miracles of hope.

And they come. Rescripted self-talk comes in the midst of mistakes. A small child crawls into my lap and apologizes for pushing me in the hallway. Words come haltingly to describe the situation instead of screams. Anger is managed with breathing exercises instead of hitting. A clean and dry day happens. I get a hug. An offer of help. A prayer for a sibling having a hard day. These small victories are blessings. Some trauma-mamas don't get them. There have been years when I didn't get them; I was hopeless. I desperately needed help and didn't get any.

That isn't true in my life now. There is much hope and much progress. There is much joy and much celebration. I just don't want to leave out those trauma-mamas whose only hope is in a residential placement of their son or daughter. Whose child came from such difficult and damaging trauma that "success" is defined by the child growing up without going to jail. To those mamas, I say that I am praying for you. I am here to listen without judgment. I deeply and truly understand what you're going through.

For me, today was just a tough day. Not an impossible day. Not a day that ended with a psychiatric placement or juvenile detention. And I know the blessing in that. I thank God for that blessing!

Losing Baby Jesus

I literally lost Baby Jesus a couple of days ago, early on Christmas Day. Life was a bit chaotic with our three children, some guests, an adult child home for the holidays, etc., and I woke up at 4:50 AM panicking because I hadn't filled the stockings! We don't "do Santa" here because Christmas is about Jesus, but we always have Christmas stockings on Christmas morning. If a child says something about Santa filling the stockings, we just smile and nod.

But I forgot to fill the stockings on Christmas Eve before I went to bed! So at 4:50 AM, my husband and I sneaked down the stairs and filled the stockings with candy and small toys. We breathed a sigh of relief as we slumped back into bed around 5:00 AM, glad we had beaten the kids in awakening.

My husband was soon breathing quietly, but my mind was racing ahead into the Christmas morning chaos of opening gifts and playing with new toys. Then, I remembered: I hadn't placed Baby Jesus in our manger!! Good grief! Here we were, trying to place emphasis on Jesus at Christmas, and I forgot to put Baby Jesus into our Giving Manger (for details, see my blog post here). I crept down the steps again, wincing at every squeak and creak. I went to my "office," really just a small nook in the kitchen, and looked where I thought I had put The Giving Manger box containing Baby Jesus.

Nope. Not there.

I looked on the windowsill, the collection place of all household detritus. Not there, either.

I opened my office closet and got a flashlight. Searching high and low, I did not find Baby Jesus. I did find one more gift for our grown daughter's stocking, but no Giving Manger box.

I quietly crept into the spare bedroom, where our daughter lay sleeping. I looked on the bookshelves, using my flashlight carefully.

Not. There.

I sat down on a chair in the kitchen, bemoaning the loss of Baby Jesus. I decided to look one more time amidst the clutter in the closet. I got a chair so I could look more carefully. And there he was! Baby Jesus!

Smiling, I lay Baby Jesus among the straw pieces the children had earned by doing service for others. Whew! Now we could talk to the kids about how their preparation for Jesus by doing service created a place for him in the hay. How Jesus Himself came to be a servant, and how we should follow in His example.

It also struck me that we often "lose Jesus" in the chaos of Christmas, and how we should refocus our families (and ourselves) on Him. He came and lived in a human body, completely and utterly human... and completely and utterly God. An incomprehensible dichotomy that is somehow True. I pray that God will continue to work in me so that I constantly seek Him. So that I never lose Jesus again!

Teaching the Meaning of Christmas to My Kids

The three kids living in our home at this time, like almost everyone, prefer to think about what they're going to receive at Christmas than anything else. As Christian parents, we've tried for years to change the focus to giving and to serving, as opposed to "gimme...gimme." It's hard.

As I considered what to do for advent for the children this year, I immediately discarded the idea of the traditional advent calendar where a child gets a small toy or candy each day. My husband and I talked about what advent really means: Waiting for the Christ Child. A couple of years ago, we had tried giving chocolate eyeball candy each day and talking about waiting for Jesus. It didn't go over very well, and I don't think it taught our daughter anything about Jesus.

So this year, I was really looking for something focused on giving and serving. In serving others, we serve Jesus (Mark 9:35), and that's what I wanted the children to think about this advent season.

I saw an ad for "The Giving Manger," and I took a look at the product. It seemed a little pricey, so I declined. But I kept being drawn back to the concept: A story about serving others, filling a manger with straw in preparation for Jesus' birth. It seemed spot-on with what we wanted, and I finally ordered the set, hoping I wasn't wasting our money.

I read the book to the kids several times between Thanksgiving and December 1st. They liked the book, from the 3 year old to the 11 year old. On December 2nd (I was a day late....), I got out the manger and straw. I told the children that serving others was going to be our way of anticipating the birth of Jesus, the greatest servant of all. I gave them some ideas of what their service could be (helping someone with their chore, cleaning up toys without being told, folding laundry, etc.), and left the manger somewhere they could reach it.

I started the service by doing everyone's chore for two days in a row. The 11-year-old noticed first, with the 5-year-old right behind. They also noticed the straw in the manger bed. I reminded them all that each piece of straw stood for one act of service. Right away, I started noticing little jobs being done without any prompting. The two oldest children got very active about service, trying to outdo each other in helping. The straw loaded up in the manger.

Then I got this note:

My heart melted, of course. What parent's heart wouldn't? But more than that, I saw that the children were developing an understanding of service, of gratitude, of giving. Advent, in the sense of noticing what needs to be done, appreciating who does it, and pitching in willingly, with love and grace.

I have never before written a blog post advocating the purchase of a product, but The Giving Manger is worth every penny! The children have been so active serving each other, our family, and our community that we are running out of straw!

We're getting ready for Jesus' birth!

Sign

This morning, on my walk, I saw deer sign on our driveway. You know, deer tracks and deer scat... Unmistakable signs that deer were in our driveway last night! This isn't a common experience, although deer and elk are occasionally in town. I didn't get a photo, but I'm sure you can imagine the scene.

I told my kids about the deer signs. They were excited to imagine deer in our driveway! They were interested in how I knew the tracks and scat were from a mule deer. We talked about what animals were native to the area and about how unlikely it would be for a whitetail deer to be here. We discussed my experience with scat across hiking trails and woods.


They weren't convinced. So I showed them this picture. I asked them who was in the picture. Of course, they knew, having modeled for the photo just a day ago. In our discussion of how they knew who was who in the photo, they picked up on what I meant by "signs." Their size, their posture, the way they stand, sit, or kneel... all of these tell those who know them who they are. Just like I knew the signs in our driveway were from mule deer. Eventually, they accepted that I knew what I was talking about.

I was thinking about this experience later in the day, and I realized that Christians should leave signs. There should be clear and convincing evidence of who we are in Jesus Christ. Everywhere we go. In everything we do. Every single day we should be saying and doing things which mark us as Christ's followers.

What marks us as Christians?

Love. Our supporting love of those around us, including those who are different from us, names us as Jesus' followers (John 13:34). Do we welcome others to our holiday table? Do we provide food for strangers? Do we support our missionaries with prayer? Do we support a child in poverty through Compassion International (or some similar ministry)? Do we work at the local food bank? There are a thousand ways to love one another, and it should show!

Service. Jesus says we are to serve others (Galatians 5:13). Do we? Do we volunteer to finish the sweeping, put away the tables, or take out the trash? Do we, without grumbling, pick up the last couple of dishes and put them away? Do we fetch something for our beloved, without grouching about how many times they've left something behind? (I'm not suggesting that we should enable those around us to be lazy! Just asking if we are serving others, as Jesus did.) Do we, as the church, provide rides, meals, and material goods to those in need? Service doesn't have to be huge. Serving those near us in Jesus' name is the goal.

Kindness. One of the fruits of the spirit is kindness. Kindness seems rare these days, especially when we're talking about any kind of politics or political leanings. On both sides of the spectrum, I see vitriolic comments and name-calling. This meanness is not a sign of Christianity, as I know it. The Bible says that we are to be known by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, the Holy Spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God (2 Corinthians 6). So, in everything we do, we should be kind. We can speak the truth in kindness. We can reproach a loved one about a recurring sin in kindness.

I know there are other signs that mark us as Christians. Let's think about them. Let's actively pursue them! Let's make our mark on the world.

A Sneak Peek

Today was a day.
A busy day.
 A crazy day.
A terrific day.
A trying day.
A beautiful day.
A fun day.
A heartbreaking day.

A totally, absolutely, completely normal day.

Those were my thoughts this evening as I cleaned up the second "poop incident" of the day. We hadn't had any such incidents for about two weeks...till today. It was very likely stress-related, which makes it more understandable, but not really more pleasant. Alongside this issue, there have been many, many, many temper tantrums and melt-downs. I've been cultivating a patient and supportive attitude, trying to help stressed wee ones learn to communicate their feelings through words instead of actions. I'm sure you can imagine how exhausting that is.

Today started a little later than my usual day because I was up through the thirteenth inning of the Wild Card game, so I skipped my daily walk. I showered quickly about 7 AM, then went downstairs to get started with breakfast for the kids. After eating, the kids and I cleaned the laundry room. They are learning housekeeping skills as well as contributing to the family. I ended up having to scrub and clean the laundry room again later in the day after our outdoor painting party... but it's good to get a room clean each morning.

Our homeschooling routine is different this year with three children of such varied ages. Our 11 year old begins her morning with piano practice, typing practice, and her spelling assignment. She can accomplish all of these on her own, so I work with the boys on letters, sounds, words, and other skills while she works. When she is done with her first assignments, she has a reading class with me while the boys practice skills on the iPads. Then it's break time. I fix a snack for the kids and take care of things like calling the dentist to make an appointment, answering emails, and doing laundry.

Today, in addition to this normal routine, we had another homeschooled child in our home because his family needed someone to watch him. He did his schoolwork while I worked with our children. During our break, I texted a friend and asked if she wanted to bring her kids over to splatter paint outside a little later.

When the kids went back to work, three of them were working on math, and the youngest was busy playing. I helped with math as I got things ready for painting. While I was working on this, two people stopped by the house to drop something off for the church and to ask a question. I got the four kids in my house dressed in paint clothes and we went outside just in time for our buddies to show up. God has soooo blessed us here in Dulce with good friends!

While the kids were just getting started with their paintings (on pizza cardboards mostly!), an intoxicated man we know wandered into the yard. I excused myself from my friend's company and went to talk to him. I ended up making him a lunch, which he ate while watching the children paint. A few minutes later, another friend (not intoxicated!) drove up and got out to chat with us all for 20 minutes or so. He left as yet another friend (intoxicated??) walked into the yard to talk with Pastor Brad.

By this time, the children were busily painting themselves and each other! It was hilarious! I'm so thankful that God has brought other families into our lives who treasure children getting messy and having fun. We allowed the kids to play in paint until the paint was gone! I took over 500 photos, most of which I cannot share because my friend and I each have foster children in our care.

About the time my friend was leaving with her three youngest kids (leaving her two oldest to play with our children), a woman drove up and asked for help with homeschooling in New Mexico. I spent the next hour or so walking her through the process of legally homeschooling your child and effectively teaching your child. She ended up coming back toward the end of the day to order curriculum with me. I didn't know this woman before today, but I'm sure that we'll end up doing things together as she begins to homeschool her daughter.

Whew! I'm exhausted just rereading this peek into our daily world. But this day was nowhere near done at this time. Soon after the woman left, I had to take one of our boys to an IEP recheck at the elementary school. I dropped off my friend's two children on the way, met with the new speech and language teacher, who confirmed my thoughts that our boy no longer needs her services. (Yay!) Then we stopped by to say hi to this child's former special ed team to share the joy that he no longer needs any special services at all. It was a joy to share him with them!

Then it was time to fix supper for my family (and the bonus child staying the day with us), clean up from supper, clean up the first (and then the second) "poop incident," which entailed giving early baths, and trying to edit the photographs taken during the painting party.

And now, with all the children in bed, I am sharing our day with you. Why? Because not many of you have ever been missionaries, lived on a reservation, fostered or adopted children, or homeschooled. This is the life God has given me, and it is a very good life. I want to share the joy, and sometimes the pain, of this crazy, beautiful life He has given me.

I Call Praying!

For the past year, we have been fostering two young boys. They are now three and five years old, and they and our eleven-year-old have brought us much joy this year. Watching our daughter become a big sister has been amazing! She went through a few weeks of wishing she could go back to being an only child, but found grace for the changes in her life and embraced being a big sister. She's phenomenal!!!

For a year, at bedtime each night and at every meal, the children have heard and said prayers with and for each other. For a year, we've heard all three earnest voices praying for their parents, siblings, our Compassion International sponsored child, and each other. This is a sweet, sweet thing, and we treasure it.

The other day at the dinner table, we had a completely new twist on prayer: One of our three yelled (on the way to the table), "I call praying!!!!" After the laughter died down, this child was allowed to pray for our meal. We encouraged the children to consider how often they've prayed recently and which of their siblings might want to pray, too.

But...

But...

I LOVE this. So many times, adults are reluctant to pray, especially aloud. We should all be racing ahead, yelling, "I call praying!" Prayer is a chance to talk to God, after all! It's a conversation that should be never-ceasing, and we should be delighted to share it with others.

So, CALL PRAYING! Jump out there and volunteer to talk to the Almighty for a group! Get excited about talking to God!

Amen!