Just can't wait

That's my Jesse.

It was the first day of his spring break. But not hers. He told her he'd make the trek to see her the next day, saying, "I don't want to drive all five hours in one day." He calls himself the Master of Half Truths. Well, he didn't want to drive all five hours in one day.

But he did.

He arranged it all ahead of time so she'd be out to dinner when he arrived. He'd wait on the steps where her father proposed to her mother. He'd sing a song, he'd make his speech.

He'd pop the question.

And just like that, we have two weddings on the horizon. We couldn't be more proud of our boys and their respective fiancees. It will be a joy to officially add them to our family.

Just can't wait to add more Kings!

God sees you

This is for my friends who are parenting children with special needs, children from places of trauma, or children with mental illness. Sometimes it's all of the above.

No, I'm not saying that parenting in general isn't difficult. But today, I'm reminded just how much more difficult it is to parent where there's more than meets the untrained eye.

This morning we met with the special education team in our district for Victor's transition to kindergarten meeting. What an amazing school district we are in. This isn't our first rodeo with members of this team and we've said the same thing after each encounter. However, this morning it was glaringly obvious to me that Victor is exactly where God wants him to be, in this home, in this community, in this school district.

During a time when Victor's behaviors are out-of-control at home and preschool and no one can put their finger on the exact cause for this turn or what to do, I needed that reminder. I'm not perfect but God knew my weaknesses. Yet He gave Victor to me anyway. There was a purpose and a plan. Every detail of Victor's life was orchestrated by One who knows so much more than I can ever imagine. Including bringing him to this community and these schools. Including making me Victor's mom.

And that is the word I want to share with my fellow travelers this morning. You were chosen for this child. You were chosen for this task. None of us were chosen because we had what we needed for the job. None of us can do it on our own. And that's the point exactly.

As I prayed for wisdom in Victor's specific situation, these words came loud and clear from my Comforter:

Stand firm. Persevere. Don't give up. Don't grow weary.

Let us know become weary in doing good, 

for at the proper time we will reap a harvest 

if we do not give up. 

Galatians 6:9

This verse has been one of my go-tos in recent years, when I need strength and encouragement. Oh, how often I want to give up. If the Good Doctor had a quarter for every time I've told him that I quit. I'm done.  I don't want to do this anymore...

Ask him what kind of vacation we'd finally take with all that money (alone!) or what kind of house remodeling projects we'd start.

But this morning I also looked up verses with "stand firm". I was surprised (but not surprised, really), to find that many of these references are within passages about Satan. So, special mamas, let us stand firm. Let us deflect Satan's arrows of disappointment, depression, despair, and doom. Let us stand firm in His promises, love, and strength.

But thanks be to God!

He gives us the victory

through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm.

Let nothing move you.

Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord,

because you know that your labor in the Lord

is not in vain.

1 Cor. 15: 57 - 58

And if you aren't parenting a child with special needs?  Then maybe today you can encourage one who is. A letter (a real, paper and pen, letter!) to say you care and you see what a great job she is doing. A cup of coffee to bring physical strength to one more day. An offer of a night out for adult conversation or babysitting so she can enjoy a rare date night. Because just after Galatians 6:9 tells us not to grow weary, it instructs us to encourage others along the way:

Therefore, as we have opportunity,

let us do good to all people,

especially to those who belong 

to the family of believers.

Galatians 6:10

God sees. And we do, too. Stand firm.

No matter what

In the face of yet another school tragedy, where kids are killing kids, social media has lit up once again with pie-in-the-sky, more-divisive-than-uniting answers to what I think we all know, deep down, are systemic issues with many roots.

I usually stay out of the conversation. I'm not a Rhodes Scholar, I have few letters behind my name, I have no intentions of ever being a doctoral candidate, and I parent enough trauma in my own home that sometimes I just can't deal with the trauma outside. And for that I am sorry.

But of course, as the story unraveled yesterday, there were themes from this young man's story that jumped out at me, themes that the media barely touched on - adoption, death of parents, expulsion from school (yes, even this one). Why? Because in my world, all of these themes shout trauma, rejection, separation - heaped one upon the other in what must have felt to this young man like love would never be stable, never be close enough to reach, and never for him.

No, not every child from a place of trauma is going to take a gun into a school. Not every child is going to take his inner turmoil out in such a public way. Some children have more resilience than others and as of yet, we have not figured out how to determine the amount of resilience a child has. Are there some children who suffer extreme trauma yet miraculously heal? Yes! Do some children, teens, and adults walk the difficult path of recovery and come out not just healed, but healers, on the other side? Yes!

This we do know. If there is going to be healing, it takes the unconditional love of at least one caring adult. Someone who says, "I'm here for you through thick and thin. Pull out everything you've got. Show me your worst. I'm not leaving." Past trauma makes it difficult to connect, to attach, to receive and give love. That shouldn't matter. Each child deserves at least one person in their corner. Sometimes it's a parent. Sometimes it can't be. That's where the rest of us need to step in.

There's a meme that pops up each time there's tragedy inflicted by a juvenile and it says something like, "We need to care less about whether our children are academically gifted and more about whether they sit with the lonely kid in the cafeteria." I agree. But it's not that simple. We can't assume that we can send our kids to school and they're going to learn to sit with the lonely. Similarly, we can't expect to talk with our kids about sitting with the lonely and have it happen just like that. At best, we'll raise kids who are great at telling everyone how they should care for the outcast. At worst, we'll raise kids who don't care at all. Why? Because, as we all know deep down, our kids are watching more than they're listening. And they all reach that magic age where their hypocrisy meters are fully charged. We can't possibly expect to tell them what to do if we aren't doing the same.

I'll be the first to admit that loving those who can't or don't love back is not easy. It's easy to love those who love back. It's easy to bless those who are already blessed. But what about those who react to our love and blessing with anger and hate?

I fail at this. Too often. But I try. And not just because I feel like I need to show my kids what to do. But because I know it's what Jesus does for me. If I'm not inviting the stranger, the outcast, the lonely into our home, then I'm not living like Jesus and I can't expect my children to do so. If I am not friendly or kind to those I deem unworthy because they won't reciprocate, then I can't expect my children to do so. If I'm not willing to meet people in their place of sorrow and hurt, then my children won't, either. At the same time, if I'm not modeling boundaries so that I don't succumb to compassion fatigue or burnout, how will my children learn to set their own healthy boundaries? If I'm not walking my own healing journey, being saved from my own stumbling blocks, how will my children know they need to do the same? Wounded people may wound people but healed people can heal people!

I'm not naive enough to think that there's one easy solution for the systemic issues surrounding violence, but I do know that there are a lot of people who need unconditional love. And I'm trying to do my part to love when it's not easy, to step into another's "stuff", and to model this so my children do the same.

District orchestra

We've gone to a lot of concerts through the years.

Some we've enjoyed.

Others were to be endured.

Some were just the right length.

Others had us checking our clocks on a regular basis.

This year's District orchestra concert, at which Isaac secured principal violist and a short solo, was a pleasure.  Director Justin Lewis chose music that was enjoyable for the teens and a delight to the listener.

And bonus, Justin's mother, Jesse's former cello teacher, was in the audience. So fun to have a quick catch-up chat with Mrs. Lewis!

Victor-isms for a new year

Victor (while listening to The Flight of the Bumblebee played on various instruments): The trombone is almost like an elephant's trunk.

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Mom, how do you know the Gingerbread Man story? Do you read the Gingerbread Man story in your Bible?

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Victor: Eden, let's play chickens!
After a bit of clucking and chicken play...
Victor: I pooped out an om-blette!

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(While playing music together...)
Victor: Mom, play a duty with me.
Me: A duty? What's a duty?... Oh, you mean a duet?
Victor: Yeah, a duet!

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Me: Victor, please turn your record player down. People are still sleeping.
Victor: But this will make them rest. I'm playing Silent Night. That will make them sleepy.

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My nose smeller is jammed.

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Victor: Why is Dad talking to the TV? (During the Super Bowl)
Me: Because he is telling them what to do.
Victor: No, the coach does that!