Beauty in the Ruins

While I was home sick this past week I binge watched season 7 of Project Runway. I am always looking for ways to broaden my horizons, enrich my mind, enhance mine, and my family's lives...  Watching the cat fights and backstabbing, and uncomfortable models walking down the runway in impeccably made clothes, or ill-fitting clothes (depending on who you ask) was the perfect way to meet all of my needs. Well, I am actually 1/2 kidding. But watching this show is pure entertainment for me, and it definitely makes me want to learn how to sew a button onto pants.
However, while watching the finale of season 7 today one of the final contestants was explaining his life, and how he came to be a designer. Emilio Sosa grew up in a low-income, urban environment, surrounded by drugs and violence. What he said keeps resonating with me. In spite of his life circumstances and his surroundings he said, "I saw beauty in the ruins."
Beauty in the Ruins.

I love this!

And then it got me thinking about the Pope. (I know. I know. Quite the leap, but just follow my stream of consciousness here.)
I am not Catholic. Therefore, there are many things about the Pope, and why people follow him, that I do not understand.  And that's ok. However, I keep seeing posts pop up on my newsfeed in facebook, or hear people on the news and on the radio talking about Pope Francis and what an incredible man he is. Even my non-religious/not practicing a particular faith friends make comments like, "Man, you know, I really like this Pope." And I must agree. He is an amazing man, full of grace, and compassion, and mercy. But what I want people to realize is that this man they love...

This man that stops for the sick, helps the poor, reaches out and holds the of the unwanted, the fringes in our societies around the world, the man who offers hope to the hopeless, the man who sees beauty in the ruins...beauty in all of us. This man...he is but a man, although incredible, that is immulating the very heart and actions of His Savior, Jesus. So while people want to take notice of this man and praise Him for his kindness, his love, and his mercy, I want people to take a step back and realize that this man is living and loving like Jesus lived and loved. And how He wants to live and love through each of us all the days of our lives.
However, because of the pain we have experienced at the hands of Christians, or witnessed through the lens of media outlets which cover some crazies, we choose to not even discover who Jesus is for ourselves.  We write Him off as a crazy leader that's only message was what he "didn't" stand for...and how we can fight for His agenda on earth, while He judges us from heaven. And this my friends, well this, breaks my heart, and makes me feel so sad for so many. Not in the "mean girls" feeling sorry for someone because they can only afford Target Lilly Pulitzer and not Boutique Lilly Pulitzer (for the record, I can't afford either, but whatever).  No, I feel sad because of what people are turning their backs on, without even looking into what Jesus really says, who He really is!

He is the author of seeing beauty in the ruins!

He sees us and loves us as we are, in this moment: the mess and train wreck of a life, marriage, abortion, relationship, divorce, eating disorder, domestic abuse, adultery, addiction, illness...you name it, and even in the midst of it He loves you. But the greatest thing about Jesus is He loves you so much, that He also sees you as He created you to be, and thinks you are stunningly beautiful. And He will guide you to that place where you see it in yourself, and you choose Him, the author and perfecter of beauty.
So while we want to shout for joy over Pope Francis, please know how he learned to love, and that is through His Savior who wants to live and breathe in each and every one of us if we let Him.
Can you imagine a world where we all selflessly loved others? Cared for the poor and down trodden? And I don't mean like the government taking care of people, but like...people taking care of people! Just like we see Pope Francis doing.

He is being just like Jesus.

The Joyful and Tired Mom

Enough with the Holy Huddles

I sat down feeling inspired and excited to write; then Nate came up to me and whined about something, and then his story ended with a story about a new friend of his that used to play with poop when he was little. A small transition to talk about my love for this pope seems a bit...well, not right.

However, having been sick in bed for the last several days with a kidney infection that won't quit has left me precious time to reflect on life, on what it means to love others-even if we don't agree with one another, and whether or not my heart will survive the rising blood pressure that will be brought about due to the 2016 election...and everyone's facebook comments about everything that offends them on our green earth, and why everyone who disagrees with them are idiots/fools. (The answer to that last bit is a definitive no, I won't survive, but I digress.)

But I keep thinking about what I want the church to look like. Who should we be in our current culture that politicizes EVERYTHING, and pits one person against another? One group against another. One religion against another. One opinion against another. Until before we know it, we are in a culture war that continues to escalate. And several groups are marginalized and fearful in a society that prides itself on "freedom."

While we continue to throw stones about immigration, abortion, marriage equality, healthcare, whether global warming is real or not, we forget to LOVE. Love others. Love them in spite of their views. Their race. Their political affiliation. Love them regardless of their sin, their beliefs, their choices. Love.
Choose Kindness. Seek to Understand, Rather Than Be Understood.

I wonder how we got to this place of judgment of others...for everything. And it occurred to me:

We are too busy pretending to be perfect, and pointing our fingers at those that aren't, that we don't have time to get to truly know someone. We're too busy acting like we have it all together.  We deflect our own feelings of inadequacy onto others, "If I can draw attention to their baggage, maybe no one will notice mine."
But that isn't life. That isn't living. And that isn't who we as believers are supposed to be, or how we are to act. We are to LOVE. We are to acknowledge that we are screwed up, and THAT is why we need a loving Savior. Not that we are perfect, and Jesus is lucky to have us on His side. I mean honestly, who do we think we are!
As I was feeling all of these feelings, and not knowing how to quite articulate what I was thinking, I came across a recording of Rend Collective. It's their "Campfire Story," and it perfectly describes what I want to overflow from churches everywhere.

"Is there anything quite like a campfire? The community that is built there by people sharing their stories, singing their songs is truly special.  It's so intimate. It's like being 10 years of age again and sharing all your secrets with your best friend. And that openness and vulnerability is exactly what we should see in the greatest community on earth-the church. There are no walls out here; and there should be no walls of defense toward God, or each other, even if we have been hurt. Worship isn't just confined to the 4 walls in the church building. And it's certainly not exclusive, but it's for every human being on the planet. In the kingdom of God, there are no outsiders.
We need to be careful  not to allow hurt or cynicism to drive us from church. Otherwise we end up like a branch taken from the fire, lifeless and cold. I know the pain we experience in life can be overwhelming, but we aren't meant to go through it alone.

All of us have the divine spark within us, and we so desperately need the breath of God to bring us to light and life. Jesus wants us to set the church on fire so the world can warm themselves around us, and find life and safety. We are here on earth to be a home or refuge for the lost and broken, but first we must learn the art of togetherness and celebration. To welcome people into the party of true freedom found in Jesus, we must first be students of that very way of life. 
We need to learn to celebrate. We need to choose His joy.
We are the church. We are the hope on earth.

To be on a journey as God's family, going through the highs and lows of life, suffering and laughing together, that's what I want; not some holy huddle where we all pretend everything is ok. But a real community who believes in the God of miracles, but also the God of the trials. That's what the world needs too.  So let's give out the invites. Put aside our selfish ways. And celebrate Jesus around the campfire.

It's time for you to start your fire."

-Rend Collective "Campfire Story

I am thankful that this is our church. It is a family. It is full of perfectly imperfect people that love and care for one another.

I don't want that celebration around the campfire to last an hour on Sundays. I want it to permeate our very lives, and the lives of all who know us.
For those who have been wounded by the church, Christ didn't come to condemn, he came to seek and save. Don't allow someone else's failure to keep you from the loving arms of Jesus.
And for the rest of us...let's set the church on fire. Bring Christ's message of love, hope, redemption, and joy to the world.
Let's quit deciding who is worthy of God's love, and love everyone, just as He did.
Let's stop pretending we have it all figured out. We don't.
Let's stop pretending that we don't struggle.
Lets stop pretending we don't stumble.
Let's stop pretending that life doesn't feel soul-crushingly hard sometimes.
God is a God of victory, in triumph, and in suffering. Let's show the world what it means to suffer alongside our Savior; AND celebrate the highs of life with Him as well.
Quit pretending.
Be real.
Stop the Holy huddles.
And let's rejoice that we worship a God of 2nd, 3rd, 4th...chances.

The Joyful and Tired Mom

The Beloved/Dreaded Participation Trophy: One Mom's Journey to the Other Side

As a one time believer in the Participation Trophy, I could not let my thoughts linger in response to Pittburgh Steeler, James Harrison making his sons return their participation trophy at the end of a season.

"While I am very proud of my boys for everything they do and will encourage them till the day I die, these trophies will be given back until they EARN a real trophy,” Harrison captioned a photo of his sons’ student-athlete trophies. “I’m not about to raise two boys to be men by making them believe that they are entitled to something just because they tried their best. Cause sometimes your best is not enough, and that should drive you to want to do better...not cry and whine until somebody gives you something to shut u up and keep you happy.”

Now I must confess that had I read this one month ago I would have put my self-righteous/defensive boxing gloves on and come out swinging. And here is why:

From the time my sons starting playing sports, it was evident that they would never be winning a trophy for being the best at anything. Athleticism isn't their greatest strength. And that is ok. I repeat, that is ok. However, we live in a world where we glorify athletes starting at a very early age. As young as 7 my oldest son was coming home and saying, "Everyone respects (said child) and thinks he's cool just because he's good at sports. For no other reason than he's good at sports!" He couldn't understand or justify in his mind why his peers would hold someone at a higher level of esteem simply because they were more coordinated on a sports field. It is just the way our world operates at this time. I can't explain it. I don't understand it. I don't necessarily like it. But it is what it is; and so as a parent of children that aren't always celebrated for their brilliant minds by our world, I wanted my boys to experience a piece of that thrill of receiving a trophy. And how were they ever going to get that trophy? Simply put...a participation trophy.

It was the only way we could ever foresee our children getting a trophy, when the  thrill of getting and displaying a trophy is still magical.

However...

I am now singing a very different tune. VERY DIFFERENT. And I never, in my wildest dreams, saw this change of tune coming.



A few weeks ago all three of my boys finished their first summer of competitive swim team. To say it was a phenomenal season would be the understatement of the year. It wasn't phenomenal because my boys were the best. Refer to my earlier statement...athleticism isn't their greatest strength. What made it so incredible was the enjoyment they found in swimming. The went to every practice, every morning, without complaint. They tried their best each meet, and loved when they were able to see their times improve. They felt frustration, and tears were shed, but they were never so discouraged that they wanted to quit. The meets lasted 3+ hours, sometimes twice a week, and they were always excited to go and compete.  They made wonderful friends on the team that they cheered on, and cheered them on from the sidelines.
 It was glorious!
So I was really looking forward to the awards banquet when I learned that they were not going to bring home a participation trophy, but rather, a plaque with their name on it! Such a fun reminder of all of their hard work! A beautiful participation plaque.


At the awards banquet they were awarding the Most Valuable swimming awards to those that scored the most points for the team. It was exciting to see the joy and accomplishment written all over the kids faces that won. And then came the time to hand out the Most Improved awards.
Never in my wildest dreams...Nate won Most Improved for 6 and under. And then Zachary, our sweet, kindhearted, bright child was awarded the Most Improved Swimmer for the 9-10 age group. Let me repeat...NEVER IN MY WILDEST DREAMS did I foresee a child of mine earning a trophy for any athletic achievement. I am not trying to be cruel. I'm just being honest.


And as Zachary walked back to us after receiving his award, and our hearts were ready to burst with pride and joy, he says,

"I earned this!
This isn't a participation trophy!
I actually earned it!"

Out of the mouths of babes.  

In my hope for our children to have a trophy, no matter what kind it was, I had never considered that they may care about how the trophy came to be in their hands. I didn't think it would matter to them, as long as they had something. But that isn't the case. My 10 year old taught me that day that it DOES matter how the trophy becomes yours. I always thought that a trophy was a trophy. What Zachary taught me that day though was that true pride in your accomplishments comes from earning your reward. He saw the value of true hard work...and he loved it. He loves knowing that he worked so hard for something, and was acknowledged and rewarded for his hard work.

And so as a former die hard believer in the participation trophy, I recant my position. I firmly believe that our children want to be rewarded for a job well done, not for signing up to be a member of the team.

Still Learning about this Parenting Thing,

The Joyful and Tired Mom

Punching Fear in the Face

I have had writing something, anything, on my heart and mind for over a month now. That stirring inside that won't settle until I get something onto this daggoned blog! But as I have pondered what to write there are too many things I want to talk about: all of the crazy transitions our family has been going through over the last 4 months, the fears that have settled around my soul about how these transitions are impacting our sweet children, or how one of my sweet children isn't so sweet with me, and I fear this is an ugly glimpse into my future with him. Like...we always joke with my mom that when she gets older and wants to move in with us, we'll make room for her in our crawl space...or if it happened now, her crawlspace. And this is clearly a stupid joke we make, but Nate would say it and mean it with me. When I'm 99 he'll just hand me a broom stick that I can slam against the ceiling when I need a glass of water. 

I do believe my Nate blog is a blog for another day. I don't won't to weep on top of my computer keyboard today. 

But these transitions, whoa buddy.

 We knew this was going to be a season of change. And each step of the way, each difficult decision that Mark and I have made as a team has not been easy. 

We moved out of our home and out of our school district.

Moved into my parents' home.

Our boys are switching schools.

Mark switched jobs.

And I went back to work after not working out of the home in 10 1/2 years.

All in the last 4 months.

But with each step we take we know, that we know, that we know, we are stepping in the right direction for our family. And so each step of the way I have been speaking Jon Acuff's beautiful and poetic words of encouragement in my mind, "I am punching fear in the face." 

I am such a visual person. So each day I wake up I envision that Fear is this horrifyingly terrible and fierce monster that is after me, trying to hold me back, plant enough doubts in my mind to turn me around and go in the opposite direction of change. And when this ferocious beast comes after me, I visualize myself punching Fear in the face, smiling, shuffling around this ugly beast as he is laid out on the floor, and confidently moving forward toward change.

Because what Mark and I know, what we are living daily, and learning moment by moment, is that change and growth is hard. It's scary. You question decisions you make a million times each hour. But just because it is hard does not mean it is bad or wrong. It's just hard. And hard does not mean that there is an absence of God's blessing. We have experienced God's blessings and faithfulness and goodness in more ways than we can comprehend during this crazy season of change. God has been, and will continue to be, our constant, no matter where He leads us.
And as for waiting to see where He takes us...well, we are still waiting. And that's the hardest part. For a planner like me though, it isn't a bad thing. It is just a constant reminder of who we truly need to rely on to lead us.
As we wait though, it will be with gladness because of the joy we have experienced living with my parents. Although this is a season of immense change, it is a season that will be seared into the heart's and mind's of our beautiful children forever. In their minds, there is nothing greater in this world than being with Nanna and PopPop.

Waiting and Trusting,
The Joyful and Tired Mom

"This is my command-be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the LORD your God is with you wherever you go."
-Joshua 1:9

Not Quite Like Ron Burgundy

I like to believe and hope that anytime I write something on my blog it is uplifting, encouraging, and serves a greater purpose than me just piddling in my office at my computer, avoiding my responsibilities at home.  However, I have only been able to stomach pasta and girl scout cookies for the last 3 days, so I am not sure how carbo- loading is going to effect my writing. From what I can tell, this blog may be a rough one...the brain is pretty foggy at the moment.

Anyway, today Zachary had another opportunity to go on the news because of his accident several weeks ago. (For those that are just joining my blog, WELCOME! SO GLAD YOU ARE HERE! You can find out more about Zachary's accident here.) For those that have heard his story, offered prayers, encouragement, and support...here is just one more way we can celebrate how awesome God is; how He is allowing Zachary to once again walk away a hero, not a victim, and not ashamed.

 

 

This mornings interview was LIVE. Very different than the prerecorded interview we did a few weeks ago. Holy Moly, is it intimidating. The studio is silent during breaks in the show. Silent. I wasn't expecting that at all. I mean, my only experience with seeing behind the scenes of a television broadcast is from Anchorman. And I assure you that there were no anchors this morning doing vocal warm-ups such as:

 

"Unique New York."

or

"A Tarantula enjoys a fine chewing gum."

or

"The human torch is denied a bank loan."

or

"The arsonist has oddly shaped feet."

or

"Ho ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!"

 

It was such an interesting and exciting experience for me, Zachary, and Lisa.
Today's story was not focused on what happened to Zachary, but rather, the lessons he had been taking for the last 11 months that gave him the tools to save his life. Today's focus was on Goldfish Swim School; and Zachary and I could not be more proud to be associated with such an incredible business, staff, team, and vision. No words can adequately express our gratitude for Goldfish and their staff. They truly care for, and take care of, every student. They make lessons a joy for the kids from the moment they walk in the front door to the moment their lessons are finished for the week. The staff empowers each child to believe they can do their best, all while teaching them specific skills to stay safe in and around water, and become phenomenal and strong swimmers.

We are grateful for Steve and Lisa who bravely left their home to start a new life in Ohio and open a Goldfish Swim School here. Their courage to respond to the calling placed on their lives saved our son's life. A thank you, a million thank yous, will never be enough. But I hope that one day when they sit in church with us and watch Zachary get married, they can look back and see a beautiful ripple effect that their sacrifices created that will last for generations to come.

So thank you Steve and Lisa. Katherine. Charlie. And Ben.

Thank you to your parents that don't have you as close anymore.
And thank you to every member of the Goldfish team, from the phenomenal front desk team, to the teachers and supervisors on deck. What you do matters.

 

Another moment of redemption.

 

With a heart full of thanksgiving,

The Joyful and Tired Mom

 

P.S. Would it be inappropriate if I asked WSYX for one of the large lights they had on set? I really love how it made the color of my hair look!



From Trauma to Triumph

This has honestly been one of the craziest, most incredibly awesome, beautiful weeks our family has ever experienced.
As many o f you know Zachary fell through the ice on a pond in our neighborhood several weeks ago. We have spent the last several weeks grieving what happened, and what could have happened. Talking with counselors. Talking with each other about the accident. Acknowledging when things feel hard and scary. Crying together. Hugging each other. And walking this road to a place of healing.
On the night of the accident Zachary asked that I not share his story with anyone else. He was ashamed and terrified, and didn't want anyone to remind him of what had happened to him on that dreaded day.
Um, does he know how much this one request cramped his momma's style? I mean, has he never met me?! I am an external, share your whole life, be uncomfortably transparent with all of your successes and failures, kind of person. This is the kind of story that could HELP people! It could save lives! And he didn't want me to say a word. But I needed to process what had happened. So I did the next best thing-I wrote about what happened, sent it to my friend who was with me when the accident happened, and she anonymously started posting about it: warnings, thanksgivings, advice for kids and parents.
Then my dear friend at Goldfish Swim School (who I had contacted right after the accident to thank  for teaching my son the skills he needed to survive his accident) called because she had been thinking that to share Zachary's story could help to shape the way people view water safety, bring awareness to the dangers of retention ponds that surround us, and help people be safe and vigilant with winter water safety.
My counselor recommended that I just be honest with Zachary that I was sharing his story with others because that is part of the way I heal and process through things. When I told him, he was fine with it. His grandmother had told him his story would save lives, and he said he had never considered that. So we started sharing more openly his story. And by we, I mean me.
Then!!!! 3 weeks after the accident, Goldfish Swim School had their PR company pitch a story about what happened to Zachary, his tale of survival, and how he had gotten himself out of this horrific position he had found himself in that January day. Zachary was excited and wanted to do the interview!

The next day a local news station picked up his story and interviewed us a few days later.

Zachary, my incredibly courageous, bold, heroic, kind, generous, compassionate, wise, amazing 9 year old shared his story. He relived that day with the reporter, fears and all. It was incredible to watch God redeem something so traumatic in Zachary's life, and allow him to walk away triumphant. Brave. Mighty. Helping others.

Here is the link to his story.

9 Year Old Survives Fall into Frozen Pond

As is expected, so much of his interview was edited out because of time constraints. However, one sound bite I wish they had used was when the reporter asked what Zachary had been thinking when he was in the water. Zachary said, "I gotta get out of here, or I could die." It's so heartbreaking to hear your child say something like that; but that statement paints an incredibly vivid picture of the severity of his accident that day.
However, he didn't die. He is truly living a life, and on this day, he is glorifying God with his incredible story. God is with us!
One thing Mark and I want all of our children to learn as we walk this life together, when we look back on what happened to Zachary, is this:

Even when we are disobedient and do things we are not supposed to do (like disobeying parents and walking on a frozen pond), even when a horrible consequence results from our disobedience, God works all things for good for those who love Him. It's one of His many promises to us; one that we embrace daily. One we celebrate often; and one we know to be true for our son. God redeemed this trauma, and turned it to triumph.
To Him be the glory, forever and ever. Amen.
The Forever Grateful,
Joyful and Tired Mom



Our son. Our hero.

 

 

 

My heart feels like it may burst with pride and excitement. After Zachary's horrible accident, 10 tv picked up his story and wanted to interview him. We initially told them no because we thought Zachary wouldn't want to do it. We asked him if the tv station could use a picture of him to tell his story to help others, and his response was, "Sure." But as I was leaving his room he said, "You know, I'd really like to be a part of the interview." Say what!?

So today was the day that our brave 9 year old sat before the camera and a broadcaster and shared his amazing story. I'm not sure how they will edit it, so I won't say much just yet. However, I will say that I am thankful for Goldfish Swim School for providing an amazing opportunity for Zachary to help others, and take one step closer to healing.
Lisa and Steve, our family adores you, and we are so thankful to God that you brought your way of teaching to Columbus. You provided Zachary with the tools necessary to keep his head above water, and swim to safety. We are forever grateful.
And by God's grace, He is redeeming something so frightening in all of our lives, for good. He always works for the good of those who love Him. And we are thankful!

He Loves a Hot Mess Like Me

18 years ago, a relatively new friend tore a piece of paper into the shape of a cross, and shared this bible verse with me:

 

"Be still and know that I am God." -Psalm 46:10

It could be said of me that I had a flare for the dramatics back in the day. She could clearly see that I needed to settle my heart and mind, and pointed me in the direction of truth.
I held onto this cross for over a decade. Each time I pulled out my bible to read it, this little note would fall onto the floor. I would pick it up, read it, be reminded of this friend's love for me and my faith, and be reminded to just 'be still before God.'
But if I am honest...if we all are...how often are we truly "still" before God? How often do we wait for Him? How often do we just sit in His presence and do nothing? If you are like me, the answer is, "Almost never." Because for me, if I am busy, I think I am important. If I'm busy, it must mean that my life has value. If I am busy, it means everything I do has a purpose and is necessary. Or I am flat out so busy some days doing all that needs done, my head could spin.
But today, after over 24 solid hours of my heart feeling like it was going to beat out of my chest, and not being able to think my way into peacefulness, I came home to an empty house and KNEW I needed to spend time with Jesus. If He is the Rock I claim to stand upon, then in these moments of high stress and high anxiety, I need to stop making excuses to not go to my source, my foundation of peace. I needed Him, whose peace surpasses all understanding. Because I tell you what, we need peace. Like so many families we are juggling a lot right now. Life feels crazy, and nothing seems in our control. We have a lot of unknowns in our life right now, kids that all have very different needs, counseling sessions that need paid for, a child and family recovering from a trauma, job demands that need met, uncertainty of where we will move, a house going on the market and wanting and waiting for it to sell, etc., etc. I know so many of you feel me here!
So today I came home and wrote in my journal, read a chapter in Revelation of Christ's future glory (so cool), and then literally laid prostrate on the floor and was still before God. (P.S. It does not feel natural for me.) And immediately the scripture from the Psalms popped into my mind, "Be still and know that I am God. Be still and know that I am God. Be still and know that I am God." Over and over this verse kept repeating in my mind. And then in the stillness I could hear God's still, quiet voice, not audibly, but in my heart say to me, "Lindsey, I am in all the details. I am in all the details. I am in all the details about your house, about the buyer, about jobs. I am in all the details." And then I prayed, "God, it just seems like so much right now." To which He said to me, "You're right, it is a lot. Which is why you need to know that I am in all the details."
I know many will feel like I am silly or crazy for believing what I believe-and I am ok with that.  God has revealed himself to me in more ways than I ever imagined He would or could in the past. And I am so thankful He is revealing himself to me today even still.  While I don't hear from Him every day in the way I did today, I am thankful for this blessing. This reminder of truth I can cling to. I am thankful that He loves me enough to get involved in our messy life this side of heaven. I am thankful.

And he'll step into your "mess" too if you let Him.

 

He loves a Hot Mess like me,

The Joyful and Tired Mom

Walking through the Valley of a Trauma...a moment of healing and clarity

I can't tell you the number of times I have silently prayed God would heal my son's mind over the years. Make his brain act as though it "should". Take away the impulsivity. Take away those tendencies that make life harder than the average hard.
Before I continue, let me preface this with the truth. We love our son and all that he is. We think he is remarkable in more ways that we can count. However, over the years we have struggled with the reality of a son that has ADHD. Not in the way you typically picture a child with ADHD bouncing off the walls. But a child that is inattentive, wickedly smart, has had difficulty controlling the impulse to excessively eat, control the volume of his voice, stutter, obsessively pick the skin off of his fingers to meet a sensory impulse to pick, always trying to be the center of attention, and not being able to read a social cue or read a facial expression if it hit him in the face. On top of ADHD he has several autistic tendencies. We have spoken with numerous professionals and they all say the same thing, "Yes, he has lots of autistic tendencies, but getting an official medical diagnosis for him would be difficult because he never had a language delay, and he is empathetic toward others. But yes, he has a lot of those tendencies we see in children with autism." Brilliant problem solver. Brain is constantly racing with a million ideas. Married to the need for structure. Difficulty handling emotions. Sensory sensitive. Can't calm down if he gets angry or upset. Low muscle tone, stamina, and coordination(extra hard for boys since sports are what so many children are into at his age). It's been a challenging road. He is noticeably not like his peers, so as parents we witness the weird faces kids make when they look at him. Nothing slays me more than this. He needs extra help in many ways, but because he doesn't have an official diagnosis, he doesn't qualify for services. So Mark and I have poured a lot of our resources into helping him in ways he needs help. We have jokingly said that one day we will have to tell Zachary that we don't have a college fund set up for him, but we got him through 3rd grade. So yes, life can feel overwhelming and hard when you wonder how you are going to pay for the next speech therapy session, or counseling session. All the while your heart breaks because you want children to see your child for all the amazingness that he is: kind, generous, compassionate, filled with integrity. Pretty much, Zachary is going to make one woman the luckiest woman on earth because he is going to be the greatest husband in the world. The most faithful friend. And one heck of an employee, or employer for that matter. And although we can see who he is, and all of his strengths...my heart has broken a million and one times too because of how he has struggled.

But...back to my intent for this blog post. Zachary has had 2 appointments with a counselor since he fell through the ice and into a frigid pond. During his last appointment his counselor asked him what it felt like when he fell into the water. He said it was very cold. Then she asked him what happened next. He said he couldn't see one of his friends, but he could hear him sobbing. Then he said he tried to get out the way he came, but couldn't get onto the ice, or break the ice the way he came. She asked him how that made him feel when he realized he couldn't get back out that way. Thinking that he would talk about his fear at that moment, he instead said, "Once I couldn't get out the way I came, I realized I needed to turn around and start punching my way through the ice in the other direction, to swim out."
The counselor then looked at me and Mark and said, "Those autistic tendencies that you started seeing me for months ago were probably his saving grace that day. He was able to separate the emotional from the rational and solve the problem at hand. Most children would have just panicked."
Oh my gosh, the number of tears I have cried since this beautiful moment of clarity...Jesus knew...Jesus knew exactly how he made Zachary and who He made him to be...
What I had always blindly seen as his greatest weakness in his life, was actually, and is actually, his GREATEST strength.
I am so heartsick that Zachary has endured what he did that day on the pond. I am sad for this trauma. And I am overwhelmed with sadness for his fear. But during our healing, I am so thankful that God has allowed the blinders to come off of my eyes so I can clearly see how remarkable this young man is that he has blessed me with and allowed me the privilege to raise. I always knew he was remarkable, but now I see him in an entirely new and marvelous light as well. And that is a treasure, a gift, I never want to take for granted.
The FOREVER Grateful,
Joyful and Tired Mom

*Please do not hate me for being honest about parenting hardships. I want to make it abundantly clear that I have always loved my child, all of my children, with every beat of my heart for who they are. But there is pain in parenting because you walk around a (sometimes) cruel world with your heart on your sleeve each and every second, of each and every moment, of each and every day. And when you feel joy deeply as I do, you also feel pain deeply too. I hope I made that clear in this post.

The Nightmares Have Started

The nightmares have started.
I was told they would come. I was told that we needed to watch for any signs of distress with our son, watch to see if his sleep was getting disrupted by thoughts of what happened.
His sleep has been restful and...better than ever actually. Mark and I have to still remain vigilant; but for now, we are celebrating that his sleeping moments are peaceful ones for his little mind.
I, on the other hand, have started having nightmares. It hit me last night. Each time I would wake up, realize it wasn't real, then fall back asleep, only to have the same nightmare again.
In my nightmare Zachary is out with his friend Dylan. Dylan's mom, Sarah, came to sit with the boys and she noticed air bubbles coming out of a basin, and Zachary was missing. She quickly realized Zachary had fallen into a very narrow hole and she had to save him. In my nightmare she acted quickly and saved Zachary's life, reaching deep into this hole and pulling him out before he drowned. And in my sleep I kept reliving what had happened to Zachary in my dream. Wake up. Fall back asleep. Repeat. Over and over and over throughout the entire night. My prayer, is this torment never reaches Zachary's innocent mind because it's awful, and feels so real.
Fortunately, this is a nightmare I am able to wake up from; and Zachary falling through the ice into an icy pond is a nightmare we are also fortunate enough to not relive all the days of our lives.
The moment he was brought home, wrapped in towels, and cold to the core was a moment I will never forget. It was like the entire sky broke into a million shards of glass and came crashing down around me. When bits and pieces of the horrific story come out over time we all realize how truly miraculous it is that he is still with us. Falling through ice, unable to touch, treading water and then swimming 20 feet to the bank of the pond, punching the ice the entire way to make a path for himself, all the while carrying the weight of layers upon layers of snow clothes and boots saturated in icy/frigid waters is miraculous. Our child who has low-tone, where endurance and stamina and strength isn't a strength, was able to have the presence of mind to solve this awful problem he found himself in during those terrifying moments. His head never submerged, AND IT SHOULD HAVE! There is no reason it didn't. It's a miracle from Jesus.
However, as I have been processing what happened, I wrote to friends and family about God's mercies being on our family that day. But then realized, that had Zachary died, had our outcome been very different, God's mercies would have still been on our family that day. Our suffering on this earth would have just looked very different, and been much more heart wrenching and painful. And my heart breaks for parents that have a very different outcome than we did. And to them, I am so so sorry.
For now, we continue to talk about what happened. Continue to try and help Zachary work through his fear and shame. However, it's a lot. A few have minimized what happened. That's painful for us, as we were the ones that could have lost our son that day. Although we know the horror of that day through our eyes as parents, grandparents, family, and friends, one of my oldest and beloved friends wrote this to me about Zachary:

"No one but Zachary, in that moment, had the intense experience of feeling as if their own time might now be here. Fewer children than we realize actually ever experience this. Most of us do horribly dangerous crap, but we walk away not realizing the danger that we escaped. The adults all freak out and we are wondering what is wrong with them. Why they do that. For Zachary, this experience was totally different. He likely saw the terror and fear on everyone's faces, felt the weight of his clothing, the breathlessness and stiffness from the cold. And within all of that, he was completely alone. No one else was experiencing what he was, no one else was fearing for their lives. It was him and only him out there.  And only him who was going to have to find whatever it was that he needed to save himself. What a heavy heavy weight for him to carry at such a young age. What an extreme moment of loneliness, if only for a minute."

And it was this that caused my heart to break again. His fear. Oh his fear. We will not focus on his fear, but we must acknowledge it for his healing, and for our own.
Please pray for our son as he tries to live like this never happened, all the while internally processing what happened and what could have been. We want this to one day not have power over him. Not be something that causes him pain. But be part of his story that will save lives. And we want him to one day rejoice in that.

Forever Grateful,

The Joyful and Tired Mom

What Anger Really Looks Like

Writing has always been a special kind of therapy for me. Regardless of whether people read what I write, it has always been a place where I could escape and clear my thoughts and make them concise and offer myself clarity. Writing helps me sift through the junk that clutters my mind, and delve into what I am truly thinking and feeling behind everything that clouds my perceptions.
However, there is something that is weighing so heavily on me, that I cannot seem to begin to process what it is that is so bothersome. It's just this dark, heavy cloud that has made its home surrounding me. I can't see around it, above it, below it, or through it. It's just there. It's existence is making me crazy. But more than that, the fact that I can't articulate exactly what is embedded in this cloud is what is truly frustrating.
This has been a very challenging week for our family. Everyone has times like this in their lives whether you are raising children or not. But it has seemed exponentially worse this week than the normal "hard day." Our children, as wonderful as they are, have made life more complicated. What I mean by this is, they have some very real needs. Trying to determine how to meet those needs, and failing time and time again, and not being able to help them is both frustrating and heartbreaking at the same time. And please, I am not even going to get into the exhausting piece of trying to solve this intricate puzzle with constantly shifting pieces.
What I will say is that Mark and I have been seeking counsel from those that love us and love our boys, daily. We are trying strategies to help them, some offer respite for a moment, others fail miserably. But we are trying. And we will never cease trying to meet each of their needs so they feel loved and secure.
But...and there is a big, fat, BUT...last night I read a blog that a mother had written about tools she uses to help her child process her anger. The example she used was her daughter calling her sister a "stupid egghead." (You can read the blog here.) For a long time I couldn't even dignify this blog with a response. That was her example of a child with "anger issues." Now, this may be what is challenging to this husband and wife. To have a little name calling may be what exacerbates them in their home. From a parent whose child actually struggles with real anger, I perceived this blog as petty, and felt as though it undermined and trivialized what we, and many other families, actually go through.
I know that people will say I shouldn't take this woman's blog so personally. Or that I should be gracious because she is struggling too in her own way with her child. And yet, I still can't comprehend that what she considers challenging would be like a vacation day for us.
For years, and years, and years we have been working with one of our children who, at times, has an explosive temper. Screaming, growling, irate, out of control, can't calm down, sobbing meltdowns that can last over an hour. My child who is known for his kindness, and recognized by his teachers as one of the most caring and considerate children they know, far beyond that of most children his age...can become so frustrated with himself that he loses his ability to take a deep breath and walk away. His anger is directed at himself more often than not. He punches himself. Screams that he is so stupid. Won't let others help him. Can't begin to see reason beyond his emotions.
Yesterday, I ended up picking him up from school because it wasn't beneficial for him, or anyone else, to stay there. He couldn't be redirected. He couldn't focus. He couldn't pull it together.
And while I agree that the woman's 2 strategies in her blog are good, and meaningful...I do not see them as anything more than laying a foundation that my child will, hopefully, one day draw from in his moments of frustration. Yes, pray first. Yes, your hands and mouth are to be used for good, not evil.
But when you have a child that truly struggles with his anger. That hates himself when he fails. That is a perfectionist to the "t" and can't allow himself any room for error...well, those 2 strategies aren't going to be enough. And developmentally, I am not even sure that abstract concepts like this would be understandable at this age.
So there it is...a mildly, albeit, disjointed post about anger.
I don't have all the answers. I can tell you we are working on them, along with a wonderful counselor, that is trying to help our beautiful son see himself in a kinder light than he sees himself.  We are taking deep breaths daily and trusting that God has a plan for our child. Seeing His goodness flow through him 95% of the time, and working our way though the other 5% that's a minefield. And acknowledging that just because it is hard, and we want to cry, does not mean we have a lack of faith. To the contrary...we are constantly reminded of our ever growing, and desperate need, for our Savior.
To other parents with children you want to rescue from the mires of anger, you are not alone,
The Joyful and Tired Mom

Real Stress Regarding Youth Sports

Two days in a row. Holy cow folks, it's a new record! Have I blown your socks off yet?! I'm trying to sit down and gather my thoughts, but it's difficult with my boys in the background farting on one another. But I will persevere!

This morning I woke up and started reading an article about youth sports (you can read the article here). The expectation, attention, and time we spend focused on youth sports, and specializing in sports at such a young age is astounding, and for me, heart breaking...for both parents and children. It is not like it used to be.

I loved growing up and playing any and every game I wanted to play. It was so much fun! I don't remember who scored goals in soccer. I do remember I was terrible, that we ate oranges every half-time, that my dad was the coach, and that every year he named our team "The Force." I remember swimming every summer on the swim team with all of my very best friends. I don't remember who had the fastest times, or if I ever had a PR in the IM. But I do remember hanging over the end of the lane cheering for each of my friends, and they doing the same for me. I remember the city swim meet where we all gathered in the same spot year after year, with all the parents, and had the greatest day having fun with kids from all over the city. And I especially remember eating Jello powder before races for that extra burst of energy.

As I got older I was a cheerleader, ran cross country, and played lacrosse. As a freshman I decided to play lacrosse because my ex-boyfriend's mom said she would come to see me play if I made the team. I had never played before. I walked onto the team, discovered I was fairly good, became best defensive player of the year, went on to play in college, and loved team meals that my mom and Sue Sanders hosted time and time again, eating spinach bagels at the Faila's, and laughing together and building friendships that are still strong 20 years later.

My senior year I decided to run cross country. I had never run for a team. However, I didn't want to get a job in the fall so I decided to run just to get out of working! I walked on to the team, as a senior I ran JV the entire year, and it was the greatest experience I had in high school. The friendships that were born from this team are friendships I can't even describe. We were together 7 days a week. We couldn't get enough of being around one another. Supporting each other. The parents became close friends with one another. Through this season of togetherness there wasn't an intensity of competition for many of us. There was for the Varsity runners, but even still, the focus for many of us was friendship, fun, being a part of something greater than ourselves. It was awesome. I will forever be grateful that I had the opportunity to try my hand at something new when I was 17. Those relationships changed my life, and continue to bless me today.

The problem I find today with youth sports is the hyper drive to compete and be the best. But while many assume parents are just driven to have their child earn a scholarship in college, I don't necessarily agree. Many of us are finding that if our children aren't competing at the top level of youth athletics when our children are in 3rd grade and up, then our children can't begin compete in middle school or high school. When we want our child to desperately be a part of a team, have fun, and experience camaraderie with people that have the same goals as them, it is a tough pill to swallow that the days of just walking onto a team to "give it a try" are gone. A child being good is no longer good enough. They need to be exceptional. And what we find in our community is many parents trying to help their child make a path for themselves in a world that is unkind. Give them the opportunities to be a part of something if they want to be.

So as a parent, my heart hurts for all of us. All of us breaking our backs to provide opportunities for our children. Opportunities that are 10 years in the future. For Mark and I, our children at this age aren't seen as great athletes. One son isn't an athlete now. One son is to some degree. One son loves all things sports. But one day our oldest may find that he loves to run, and wrestle, and play hard. My hope is that because he wasn't driven at 9 to be the best, he will still have the opportunity to play and be a part of a team if that's what he wants. For the other two rugrats, our hope is that with Mark and I unable to spend the money to travel and stay in hotels, and pay for elite teams for them, that we are not robbing them of future opportunities to compete in middle school and high school athletics if they want to.

The pressure is astounding. I do not pass judgment on parents. We all want what's best for our children. However, youth sports has become a monstrous beast. We are all in this crazy, fast moving current, and until people choose to jump out of the river, and stop trying to "keep up" and survive, nothing will change. But my hope is that enough parents will say "enough", and we can go back to the days where parents aren't breaking the bank and emptying out their retirement so their 9 year old can play for a travel baseball team.

Hoping this is a coherent piece considering my boys rolled around at my feet like cats while I wrote this,

The Joyful and Tired Mom

 

Having fun at the City Meet. Clearly, we are very focused on our competition.

Our team placed 3rd, but we had more fun than anyone!

I couldn't tumble, but my arms were sharp and I always smiled. That's how I was put on the cheerleading squad.

Junior Year Cheering. Some of my best friends to this day. P.S. I still couldn't do a hand spring.

My very best friends made while running cross country. And they are still some of the most integral parts of my life, and the lives of my family.
JV3!

 

 

 

Go Bobcats. Never went to a lacrosse camp. Decided to just try it in high school. Ended up playing for a Division I college.

 

After an early morning reunion run with xc friends, we still couldn't spend enough time together at our reunion.

 

 

Baby Steps

I often think that I just don't have time to do anything significant with my days. And if the truth be told, many times I don't. Or rather, I am doing things that are significant for everyone else, like feeding them, keeping them in clean clothes, protecting them from their own stupidity...you know, little things. But for me, I feel as though this longing I have in my soul to write and teach and share, this thirst, is never satisfied. I always claim in my mind that I don't have time.
Then this afternoon my parents took the boys on a day date with them and we have been alone for almost 5 hours. I walked 6 miles, talked to a few friends on the phone, ate leftovers for dinner, wrote a lengthy email to a friend, read the bible, watched the rest of an episode of Psych, got ready for bed, washed my face, started reading a book, and then started piddling on facebook, pinterest, yummly, and other time-suckers. I was feeling very dissatisfied. And then I lifted up this prayer, "Lord, I have enough time in my day to do all you ask of me. Why am I making excuses? Why is it so hard for me to start something? What am I supposed to do?"
That is when I grabbed the computer and decided that regardless of if I have something earth shattering/mountain moving to share I am still going to write. I want to believe that this daily habit I hope to become disciplined in, is preparation for something God has in store for me in the future.
He is moving in our lives. We are excited. And we want to continue to listen to His soft voice.
Today at church our pastor was talking about ways God can speak to us. I began thinking how so many people tell me I should write a book; or that Mark and I should write one together. I laugh, but it is the longing in my heart...to write a book that people will read, and be encouraged and empowered. How am I to expect that a wonderful book deal would easily fall into my lap, if I have not taken the baby steps to one day reach that calling? Maybe God has been speaking through others to encourage me to start actively putting one foot in front of the other and just write.
I just always want what I write to be received well. But when much of your day consists of weiner and butt jokes, I'm not sure how far that message in a broken world will carry me!
Brace yourself for penis jokes,
The Joyful and Tired Mom

A Big Announcement

I am so excited to finally write this! The Allen's are moving!!!  Where? Good question...here's the relatively short answer:
Several months ago Mark and I began discussing moving. We had had a very swift and drastic change of heart and mind about the direction we wanted to take our family. For those that believe God speaks to us still today, you can appreciate this...others may think I am a total whack-job (I'm ok with that-I'm sure people have said worse-ha!). We believe that God placed this desire in our hearts, there is no other explanation for this. He led us in thoughtful discussions and decision making. And we chose in September that we would move.
However, we don't know where yet! I know this sounds crazy; but let me explain why we are at peace with the unknown right now.
In the book of Genesis God tells Abraham to leave his home and He would then take him to the land He is giving him. Abraham had to act on faith, and then God took him to his new land. If we believe that God is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, like scripture tells us, then why would we believe that this isn't something he would ask of us today.
A few months ago this scripture popped into my mind, and it seems to be what we keep coming back to as we try to make decisions about where to move? What house to buy? Land or no land? Small or big? Old or new? As my realtor so lovingly said to me, "Lindsey, you are insane right now! You're all over the map!" And he's right. And I firmly believe it is because God has not made it clear what the next step of our journey will be, and so we can't decide.  And so we wait.
In the meantime, my incredible parents have opened their home to all of us to live with them until we know the "where" in this next part of our family's journey.
We want to stay close., but we will be leaving our amazing school district. We know things need to change for us if we want to live a life that honors God with our finances, our time, and our talents.
So here we are, stepping out in faith to go where God has called us to go. We are excited! We are working hard to get our house ready for the next family that will move here and make wonderful memories for themselves.
We can't wait to share more as God continues to lead us. No one has ever said following him would not require sacrifice. But anyone who follows Him can tell you it is worth it. He is worth it.

Onto the Next Adventure,
The Joyful and Tired Mom

 

Kids reactions:
Zachary-"Yes, we finally get cable!" And, "I want Uncle Matt's old room."
Drew-"Can I bring my desk?" And, "I want to move tomorrow."
Nate-Does it really matter? He would be angry no matter what.