Not Scarred For Life

This is a post that I've had whirling in my head for a long time. I need to hear this reminder frequently. Some other mom out there needs to hear it, too.

I was hospitalized before Little Brother was born due to pregnancy complications. After Little Brother was born, he was in the NICU for ten weeks. I spent all day every day at the hospital with him. It was almost as if I was hospitalized, too. There are a lot of musings from that time period about which I will write in the future. That story has to be told bit by bit by bit, the way it was experienced.

Today, though, as a friend is facing a similar trial, heavy on my heart is the part of the story that affected Big Brother. You see, he was not quite three years old and suddenly his life plunged into chaos. During that time, my heart broke to be apart from him. His third birthday came and went without much ado. Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year's came and went… and his mommy was absent. He missed me. He wanted me to "snuggle" him on the couch. He would hold my hand to his cheek when he saw me, and close his eyes as if being near me was complete bliss.

I told some people how I felt about it, and everyone would say, "Well, at least he won't remember it!" I tried to comfort myself somehow with that thought - he was small enough that he wouldn't remember it. He wouldn't have to carry that burden his whole life. Isn't this what we do? We worry about how we are "scarring our children for life" with the things that we say and do or don't say and don't do. There is always guilt associated with every facet of motherhood… guilt associated with both sides of every single decision. 

God gave me a verse to which I clung in desperation throughout Little Brother's hospitalization and the months that followed his homecoming:

I fought fear every day. It was an excruciating, exhausting battle, but I reminded myself that He loved my boys so much more than I love them. I had to surrender them to Him time and time again.

I still clung to the hope that Big Brother wouldn't be scarred for life by my absence when Little Brother was born and hospitalized. Then, one day, just a few short months ago, I heard Big Brother say to Little Brother, "You were in the hospital for a LONG TIME. But don't worry. You don't have to go back there EVER AGAIN."

Tears stung my eyes, and my heart sunk with the realization that he had not forgotten. For a short time, I was tortured by this. I wondered how it was going to affect him in the future; I worried that he was "scarred for life."

Then something clicked in my head. I don't know if it was the Holy Spirit whispering to my heart or what, but these words came to me: Yes, he remembers. He remembers and he is okay. Quite simply, it was part of his journey, just like the things that have hurt me in my life were part of my journey. I realized that just as there is no part of my life, no hurt, no circumstance, that is beyond the redemption of Christ - that same truth applies to the hurts in the lives of my loved ones! He can redeem my mistakes as a mother and use them for good. Of course, it will be up to my boys, but it will be their choice. They do not have to be scarred for life.

Verse Two

There was a time, in the not-so-distant past, when I was dealing with the aching pain of rejection. It was a dark, insecure place. Not only was I feeling rejected, but I also felt isolated, as if I were the only person on the face of the earth who had ever felt that pain. I truly doubted that anyone could understand how I felt. In the midst of my despair, the homework for a Bible study I was attending at the time directed me to read Isaiah chapter 53.

If there was ever a chapter of the Bible that so radically changed me, it was that chapter on that day. I was amazed, and filled with the love of God when I read that I was not alone ~ I was not the only one to experience rejection! Not only did Christ experience the gut-wrenching pain of rejection (and therefore understand how I felt), he was rejected by everyone on the earth. There is no comfort on earth  that compares to the realization that Christ so loved me that he died on the cross for me, despite enduring all the pain of (my!) rejection. My pain pales in comparison to his - and he loves and forgives anyway!

Words cannot possibly describe how much this chapter has meant to me; how I've returned to it time after time for a reminder and reassurance. This is the first time that I've selected a verse of this chapter to memorize, and I chose this verse because I never want to forget that he has not only felt my pain, but borne the pain of my sin, and yet he loves me still.

What about you? Feel free to enter your memory verse in the comments below!

Imperfectly Perfect Christmas

Being the idealist that I am, last year I had grand plans for the Christmas season, including lots of quality time with Big Brother, decorating, shopping, baking and doing crafts together. Then our lives blew up with the premature birth of Little Brother and suddenly I didn't care about any holidays at all. Fast forward through 2013. Every month I thought (and talked) about how I didn't get to have "last Christmas" the way that I had wanted. I thought (and talked!) about how this year would be different. I spun dream webs in my head of a perfectly decorated house, filled with the smells of freshly baked Christmas goodies; I saw Big Brother and I doing crafts together and discussing the Christmas story.

What IS this dream world in which I insist upon residing? Sometimes, I just need a smack in the head.

Obviously, my idealistic dreams have not been reality (and will continue to not be reality for the rest of my life, I'm sure). I'm not being defeatist here. I'm just admitting that what I want probably isn't what is best for me. Here is reality: the Christmas baking that I've attempted so far has been hastily done between interruptions that sound like this:

"STOP sitting on your brother!"
"Why are you crying? OH. You need your diaper changed!"
"Please take your hand out of your pants."
"STOP climbing on the ________."
"No, you may not watch more TV."
"No, you may not ________."

I'd love to bake a long list of traditional Christmas cookies, but all I've done so far (and I probably won't do any more) is to dip some pretzels in white chocolate, make peppermint bark, pecan tartlets and pizelles.

My tree, while pretty, isn't the way that I would want it. Part of this is due to the small hands that helped to decorate it. Part of it is due to the small hands that continually take ornaments OFF the tree (because they look delicious?). My Christmas decorations are limited to a tree, a nativity candle holder (which I love) and two stockings hung haphazardly high out of the reach of little hands. These items, I might add, are hung on an incomplete entertainment center.

My favorite nativity!

How our living room currently looks.

For a few days after we put up our tree, I was inwardly bemoaning the fact that the incompletion of our project (that's right; STILL not finished) has once again ruined my idealistic picture of how I wanted Christmas to be this year. Then, as I was lying on the floor in front of the tree, holding Little Brother in the air to make him laugh, I was reminded of something.

"Last year," I told him, still holding him aloft, "I would have given anything to have you home for Christmas, even with an incomplete house." Tears sprang to my eyes and I brought him to my chest for a big hug.

Attitude: adjusted.

Merry Christmas!

That one moment...

The moment that changed my life was not my moment.

When I was sixteen, my dad accepted a new job in a different state. The move that we made as a family when I was sixteen changed the course of my entire life. When I look back over my thirty years, no other single moment changed things as drastically as that one.

As I ponder that particular memory, a couple of things jump out at me. First of all, it wasn't my moment. It wasn't my choice. In fact, if it had been up to me, we would not have moved. We were comfortable. I was happy. I had a plan for my future. I didn't want to change it.

The second thing I think of is the fact that because of that move, I am changed. If we hadn't moved, I would still be quiet and shy. When we moved, I was pushed outside my comfort zone. I made new friends, which is very hard to do at any age, but especially at sixteen.

If we hadn't moved, I would not have married The Hubs. I would not have two beautiful sons. I wouldn't be the same me that I am today.

Sometimes, someone else's moment can change your life more than anything else.

Sunrise on my morning run.

INFJ

The Blogtember challenge for today is to take this short personality survey and to respond to my results.

Apparently, I am Introvert, iNtuitive, Feeling and Judging.

Interesting. 

Actually, I'd recently read this article and when I showed it to The Hubs, we both knew that it was ME to a T. I am an introvert, and there is no debating that! (He likes to say that he is introverted, but the only thing in the article that describes him is his extreme hatred of small talk!)

The Jung Typology Test results personality profile states:

INFJs are deeply concerned about their relations with individuals as well as the state of humanity at large. They are, in fact, sometimes mistaken for extroverts because they appear so outgoing and are so genuinely interested in people -- a product of the Feeling function they most readily show to the world. On the contrary, INFJs are true introverts, who can only be emotionally intimate and fulfilled with a chosen few from among their long-term friends, family, or obvious "soul mates." (source)

There is nothing in the world more important to me than people, and getting to know their heart and connecting on a deep level. I truly do care and want the best for everyone (idealist... see below!), and this has sometimes gotten me into trouble. (Oh, the stories I could tell if I had the time and space!) 

Also interesting:

INFJs are distinguished by both their complexity of character and the unusual range and depth of their talents. Strongly humanitarian in outlook, INFJs tend to be idealists, and because of their J preference for closure and completion, they are generally "doers" as well as dreamers. This rare combination of vision and practicality often results in INFJs taking a disproportionate amount of responsibility in the various causes to which so many of them seem to be drawn. (source)

The words "idealist" and "dreamer" are me, me, me! My handle has been daydrmr82 for YEARS. The Hubs and I just had a conversation not that long ago about how my idealist tendencies have caused me great disappointment in different aspects of my life. I grew up believing in the happily ever afters and the Prince Charmings and "if you work hard enough, all your dreams will come true." Oh, man! AND I do tend to take a disproportionate amount of responsibility for just about everything. True.

While this kind of thing is really interesting, I think that personality profiles can sometimes be a crutch. You see, my personality profile states that I'm strong in "Judging." It means that I have a heightened sense of discernment and my commitment to justice is strong. However, on the downside, I can also be judgmental. Herein lies the problem. I can easily say, "Well, that's just my personality - can't be helped." Just because it is my natural bent to judge does not mean that it is ok - or right. So, if you want to take a few minutes to take the personality profile for fun, I think a lot of insight can be gained. I'm not going to settle for what the profile says that I am, though. I know I am still capable of change. 

Turning Blue

The Downton Abbey craze hit me after Christmas. (Spoiler alert! Do not continue reading if you don't already know what happens in season 3.) My sister bought me seasons 1 and 2 on blu ray and I started watching them after Little Brother came home from the hospital. I fell in love with the characters and got caught up in the story line. Then I started watching season 3 and after the first episode, things started going downhill rather quickly. I'm not even excited about season 4. In fact, I doubt I'll watch it. I almost despise Downton Abbey now.

Lady Sybil (Photo Credit)

It started with Sybil, and turning blue.

Lady Sybil dies in a terrifying, excruciating childbirthing scene. The acting is beyond stellar. Essentially, she suffocates before her family's eyes, turning a devastating shade of blue that was all-too-familiar to me.

Little Brother turned that same shade of blue.

When Little Brother was in the NICU, I would hold him for a certain time period every day. They call it "skin-to-skin" or "Kangaroo Care" and it is mommy-baby bonding time. One day, as I was holding him, his Dr came to speak to us.

"He is doing really well," the Dr. said. "I think we may move him to the Special Care Nursery. He might even be home by Christmas!"

I was delighted by this, naturally! I could almost see the words "Home For Christmas" hanging in the air like a cartoonish speech bubble above the Dr.'s head. They didn't have time to evaporate in my imagination before Little Brother's monitor started beeping loudly.

While he was in the hospital, Little Brother was hooked up to all kinds of monitors. The one that had started beeping was his oxygen saturation monitor. As long as his oxygen levels stayed above 85%, all was well. His levels had dropped.

This, in itself, was not altogether startling. In fact, it happened all of the time. I turned to look at the monitor, trying to massage Little Brother's back at the same time to stimulate his breathing a bit. That usually worked.

Not this time. The oxygen saturation number dropped, and kept dropping, and Little Brother's face was blue and suddenly a nurse stepped in, whisked him from my arms and started helping him breathe with the dreaded green bag.

Time slowed, and the moment was burned into my brain. I could still see his little blue face, and all that I could do was watch helplessly. Please God, Please God, Please God, Please God... That was the only prayer I could come up with at the moment. I could almost hear the Holy Spirit groan.

It felt like an eternity passed, but the numbers on the monitor slowly began to rise and soon the monitor stopped its incessant alarm. He was safe.

This turning blue thing that Little Brother did happened more times than I care to count. Every time it happened, I was afraid. It was in those moments that I clung to Isaiah 49:16 and remembered Hannah, who gave Samuel to the Lord.

That's - partially - why I'm not a huge Downton Abbey fan any longer.



Today's Blogtember assignment was to tell about a time when I was afraid. 

Grateful

Imagine the scene:

It's Christmas Eve. I'm driving home from the hospital, where I've spent the day with Little Brother. I know that I will not have my baby home with me on Christmas Day. Big Brother is at Grandma's house, and I need to stop at the grocery store to get salad to bring to Grandma's house the next day, as well as something for me and The Hubs to eat for dinner. I pull into the grocery store parking lot, preoccupied with too many thoughts to notice that it is pretty bare. Yes, the grocery store is closed and I'm sorry that I won't be able to bring the salad to Grandma's house for Christmas dinner, but I'm glad for the employees who get to go home and be with their families.

Weary. Worn. Weak.

I drive through at a local fast food chain, acquiring burgers, fries and shakes for The Hubs and me for dinner. We NEVER do this. But hey. It's Christmas Eve and there is little to no food in the house, and so I plunk down over eighteen dollars for the convenience of artery-clogging semi-food.

When I arrive home, The Hubs is ecstatic over my choice of dinner (you might say that I'm the healthy eater of the family) and informs me that It's A Wonderful Life has just started on TV. So, we pull out the TV trays and munch on our food while we watch.

For the first time in my life, I cry as I see George Bailey cry, begging to live again. I cry again when all of the people George's life has touched congregate at his house to help him in his time of need.

I cry, because as I watch those black-and-white faces on the television screen, I see the faces of the people I know in the here and now, as they congregate to help me in my time of need.

I see the dozens of coworkers who took up a gift card collection for my family. A whole basket full of gift cards, cash and checks from people who love us because they do.

The basket of gift cards from my co-workers

I see the faces of friends who anonymously took up a collection and left a cashier's check to help pay for medical bills. I still carry the envelope around with me in my purse because I just can't seem to throw it away.

I see the faces of friends who selflessly cooked meals for weeks and delivered them to us.

I see the faces of my in-laws, who are so much more than in-laws to me now, who watched Big Brother so that I could be with Little Brother.

I see the face of the beloved friend who took me to the hospital when I couldn't drive after surgery, who went to the grocery store for me, who did my dishes, who prayed and texted and emailed and made sure I was okay.

I see the face of the other friend who sent me mail EVERY SINGLE DAY because she couldn't be there with me in person.

I see the faces of the dozens of other friends who called, texted, emailed, sent cards and letters and made hospital visits and who prayed and prayed and PRAYED for us.

When the movie is over, The Hubs and I look at each other and we both have tears in our eyes. When we go to bed that night, we feel blessed. It truly is a wonderful life.

The next morning, it is Christmas, and we are going to the hospital to visit Little Brother before we go to Grandma's house to pretend to have Christmas just like every year. It isn't Christmas because Little Brother isn't there. It just isn't. But we pretend. We put those smiles on our faces and we snuggle Little Brother and as we drive away, we keep those smiles on our faces. As we drive to Grandma's house and I hope that no one notices that I forgot to bring the salad, we talk about the movie from the night before.

"We should watch It's A Wonderful Life every Christmas Eve," says The Hubs. "It should be our tradition."

I get warm fuzzies because I love things like this. "I agree," I reply. After a pause, I say, "I feel like all of the people who have helped us through this time are like the townspeople and we're like the Baileys."

The Hubs nods his head and says, "Yeah, but I don't feel like I deserve to have such good friends."

I know what he means. There is a certain humility that comes with receiving abundant blessing and knowing that we have done nothing to deserve it. I nod and say, "I agree - we haven't been as good of friends to these people as they are being to us."

As we drive, we sit there in silence. I think about how tough life is. It is disappointing, and yet... we would never have known how deeply we were loved without the tough spot. And while I'm not yet mature enough to be grateful to go through trials, I am grateful to God for those who love us enough to sacrifice for us. No, it doesn't feel like Christmas, and I don't want to be celebrating. Yet, here I am, receiving gifts from Him through other people. Being loved just because.

And I am grateful.

Day Twenty-Nine: Five songs that speak to me or bring back memories

It is because of THIS post topic that I was sold on doing this blog for a month thing! Music plays such a big role in my life... almost as big a role as books have played. God has used music to minister to me more times than I can count.

I have an eclectic love of music, and it was REALLY difficult for me to choose only five songs! I put a lot of thought into these choices... but I could easily choose five times five MORE songs that I love just as much as these. I've got them categorized for fun.

1. Motherhood - If you only listen to one of these, please make it When You Come Back Down by Nickel Creek. This is the song of my heart when it comes to my sons. It never fails to bring me to tears, as I envision them grown and going out to do great things on their own.

2. Movie Soundtrack - I enjoy a good movie soundtrack more than just about anyone else I know. When the Hubs and I watch a movie, I will comment to him, "This show has a great soundtrack!" Some such movies were "Social Network," and "True Grit." I listen to the "You've Got Mail Soundtrack" a lot and own all of the Disney Princess soundtracks. (I can belt 'em out as good as any princess, you bet!) However, my favorite movie soundtrack has to be "Sense and Sensibility." I used My Father's Favourite as the music during the photo slideshow at our wedding. It is also one of my favorite songs to play on the piano.

3. Praise Song - Oh, man. I could list at least fifty songs in this category alone. Over the last few years, I've burned cd compilations for this category. I call those playlists "Amy's Songs" and send the cds to my Dad. (I get my love of music from him.) There are so many that make my hands go in the air, praising my Savior. Still My Soul, Be Still is one of my favorites to sing in church. Aaaaaand, because I can't choose just one in the category, and if you want to listen to another, try In Christ Alone. Tears, tears, tears.

4. Love Song - Who can choose just one??? I've made cd playlists of love songs for friends before their weddings... The song that always brings back memories from when The Hubs and I were dating is If You're Not the One by Daniel Bedingfield. One day, when I got off work and started my car for the drive home, this song began playing. It wasn't on the radio... The Hubs (who was The Boyfriend at the time) had purchased the cd, used my hide-a-key to get into my car while I was working, put the cd in my cd player and set it to start immediately when I started my car. LOVE. Oh, the romantic things he did when we were dating. So sweet.

5. Just For Fun - We love Rascal Flatts and own all of their cds. Banjo is a great song. It makes me want to drive the dirt roads with the windows down in a big ol' pick up truck.

Hope you enjoy these musical selections!

Day Seventeen: A favorite photo of yourself and why

This is the background on The Husband's laptop

This photo was taken a year and a half ago. We (The Hubs, Big Brother, and my two brothers) were at an outdoor seafood joint on the boardwalk in Clearwater, Florida. We'd been walking on the beach, and I'd gotten chilly, so my brother Aaron lent me his gray hoodie. The Hubs snapped this photo with his iPhone as I was talking to Big Brother about selections on the menu, asking him what he would like to eat for lunch.

I didn't know that he took the picture until a couple of weeks later. We were talking about something and I made the comment that I don't look like a model. He pulled this photo up on his phone and showed it to me, basically implying that I looked like a model in THIS photo. I laughed, because when I see this picture, I think drily that it isn't the most flattering picture in existence. My hair is wind-blown, I'm wearing a bulky hoodie, and I'm not even smiling at the camera. You can tell I was talking as it was taken. Yeah. Sure. Real attractive.

However, as I thought about it some more, I realized that the reason he thinks I'm attractive in this picture is not because it's the best picture of me, but because it captured a moment of happiness. In this picture, all he sees are pleasing things. This picture brings back good memories of a lovely day. Since it's one of HIS favorite pictures of me, it's one of my favorites, too.

Day Seven: Your Biggest Fear

There is a scene in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix where Harry walks into a room to find Mrs. Weasley being tormented by a boggart. A boggart is a physically harmless beast whose real threat is to rattle its prey emotionally. It is a shape-shifter, and takes the form of whatever it thinks will most frighten the person in front of it. Harry is astonished when he witnesses a boggart take the form of each of Mrs. Weasley’s children, one at a time, laying before her, cold and lifeless. As a horrified and confused Harry watches, Mrs. Weasley sobs, completely debilitated by the thought of her children being hurt.

That detail of the book didn’t really impact me until I became a mom. It brings me to tears now! If I was to come across a boggart, it would appear to me as the cold, lifeless body of Big Brother or Little Brother, and I, like Mrs. Weasley, would be reduced to a sobbing mess. In Harry's world, there is a magic spell that can easily defeat a boggart, but I don't have a magic wand here on earth.

Thankfully, my God is greater than my fears, and the real way to fight off those “boggarts” is with the power of The Sword. It always seems to come back to scripture memory for me. That is the only way I know to fight against the temptation to worry over the fear of “what ifs.” I don’t say that lightly. Several years ago, I was battling some pretty significant (almost crippling) fear. It wasn’t unwarranted fear, either. However, I took my fears to my pastor, and he gave me a list of scripture* that I could read and memorize to help. It made a big difference then, and came in useful again more recently.

Little Brother had a rough time after he was born. He was in the hospital for ten weeks, and there were days when fear for his life and health gripped my heart. I was shaken to my core more than once. I had to continually give Little Brother back to the Lord (because I kept “taking the burden back on my shoulders”).  I reminded myself over and over that no matter what happened, God is still God and He is still Good. It was hard. Oh, was it hard! It is STILL hard to surrender the lives of my precious sons to Him! Yet, how ridiculously prideful of me to think that they are mine anyway! As if I was in control! And really, as I’ve mentioned before, He loves them more than I ever could, anyway.

So every time fear raises its ugly head, I take up My Sword and fight. No boggart is getting into THIS head!

*II Tim. 1:7, Isaiah 26:3, Psalm 50:15, Isaiah 12:2, Psalm 27:1, Isaiah 43:1-3a, Joshua 1:9

Day One: Story of my life in 250 words or less...

I was born Amy Elizabeth. My parents chose the name Amy because they liked it and Elizabeth after my maternal grandmother. I was home schooled from K-12, and while there was a time when I wished I could go to school, I truly loved being home educated and feel that I got a wonderful education. My family moved from Florida to Kansas when I was 16 and it was one of the hardest things that happened in my life, but also one of the best. There was never a time that I didn’t know that I wanted to go to college and I graduated with a degree in English from Wichita State University in 2004. I got married in December of 2004 to a wild man. He grins when I call him that. He doesn’t think it’s true, but sometimes I list off the reasons why he is wild and then he can’t argue. Since I’m not wild at all, it’s good for both of us. We had a beautiful man-child in 2009. I call him Big Brother. We had another beautiful man-child in 2012 who was born 13 weeks premature. (I call him Little Brother.) His journey in the NICU was one of the other hardest things I ever experienced, but I wouldn’t trade him for anything! I used to work outside the home (at a financial institution), and now I have joined the ranks of the stay-at-home-moms (SAHMs).

My Sword, V12

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.
-Romans 15:4

This is going to be a story.

I'll try to be brief.

Or not. As the whim (and Little Brother's nap) takes me.

As you know, I've been selecting and posting my scripture memory verses this year. I've memorized two verses per month for the last two years, along with the Living Proof Ministries "Siesta" community. This has been huge for me.

The last time I faithfully memorized scripture was for the two-year period when my husband and I were dating. When we first started dating, he asked me to memorize John 15 with him. We did 1 verse per week, then started on Psalm 91. For some reason, we got out of the habit of scripture memory as soon as we got married. (Don't allow that to happen to you. The Older, Wiser Amy of now shakes her head at the Younger, Newly-Married Amy of 2005.)

The Hubs knows about my scripture memory, and he has been doing some on his own with an accountability partner for a while now. However, two weeks ago, he asked me if we could start memorizing together again.

Um, YES. {I hope you can see all of the little hearts floating above my head at this point, just like Sally from the Peanuts.}

So, we are going to take turns selecting a verse every week and memorize them together. Ergo, the verse above was his choice and I don't have a whole lot to say about why it was chosen. I don't think you can go wrong memorizing ANY verse, though, because at some point it will be relevant if it isn't today.

I will continue to do My Sword posts, though, especially for the verses that I select!

Victorious

My son's name means victorious, and this is no accident.

I started out 2010 with a New Year's resolution to be victorious.  We know that we will ultimately be victorious when we are on the Lord's side, but sometimes we fail on a daily basis.  I want to have victory in my life over the things that attack me.  I want victory over insecurity, victory over pride, and victory over anger and bitterness.  I want victory for my son, victory in my marriage, victory over Satan's evil attacks against all the relationships in my life.  He wants to separate us from Christ AND each other, but I'm on to him!  I will hold onto Jesus and cling to His peace and trust in His name for my victory.

This is not always easy.  Let me rephrase that.  It is NEVER easy.  I know that He wants me to live a victorious life in Him, but I have to choose that victory.  I have to fight for that victory.  We are warriors, after all.  I hope it gets easier as time passes, but at this point in my life it is a daily, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute scene of hand-to-hand combat.  The sweat pours off me and my blade is hot from hitting my foes so frequently.  I have to keep my focus Heavenward in order to be victorious.