How Do You Solve A Problem Like Emelia?

My blond haired, blue-eyed daughter is sweetly and innocently snoring beside me curled up in my favorite fuzzy blanket. Just an hour and a half ago she was beating up her big brother with his Star Wars sword. I marvel at this child.
I can’t get enough of her. She just amazes me. She is only 4 years old and she is already so many things I always wanted to be. Bold, witty, aggressive, funny, endearing, tenderhearted and nurturing. Of course she is also bossy, mean, obstinate, hard headed, obsessive compulsive, insatiably hungry, wildly mischievous and terribly rebellious. And I love her so absolutely passionately that I cannot imagine life without having to clean up her magic marker masterpieces from the walls or reminding her for the 26,347th time that ladies don’t sit like that when they are wearing dresses.

One day not too many months ago we were picking out some new black patent leather dress shoes to match a new dress. She tried on the shoes, pointed her toes, did a test twirl and they were as good as hers. Then a sales lady came by and asked if she would like a sticker and proceeded to hand her a Cars sticker. A CARS STICKER. My daughter, instead of being thankful for what she was given began throwing a royal fit because it wasn’t Hannah Montana. So as I dragged my crying, screaming, tantrum-throwing daughter from the store after spending nearly $20 on a new pair of shoes, I looked up into the heavens (really, I did) and asked God, Why? Why did you give this child to me?
When I was an opinionated single young woman (before I became an overwhelmed white-hair-growing mother) I looked on in judgment at the feeble minded parents who had children like my daughter. I snidely glowered sideways at them as they dealt with them in the checkout at the grocery store, their child throwing a fit over candy or a toy they wanted while they desperately tried to calm them down. I would shake my head at their wimpy attempts of reigning in their little monster and self-righteously think to myself ‘What that spoiled brat needs is a good spanking!’ or ‘That woman needs to learn how to discipline that child!’
And of course it doesn’t help that my first child was so luxuriously low maintenance. Kellan has always been the sweetest, quietest, happy-go-lucky mellow fellow. When he was about 1 year old, we were run off the highway by another vehicle veering into our lane which spun us around two and a half times into the median acquiring a healthy souvenir of grass and dirt along the ride. And the entire time, Kellan was a happy camper just chugging away at his bottle of juice in the fashion of Maggie from the Simpsons like nothing had even happened. Even today, he can quietly amuse himself for hours, ah sweet peace!
Enter Emelia Rose into the world and from her first cry, I am not kidding you, my husband and I looked at each other in fear and slight horror. We knew she was different, even alien if you will from her sweet mild mannered big brother. From her daredevil attempts of jumping out of my arms, the stroller and the shopping cart during her infancy to pushing, scratching, hitting & biting her brother as soon as she could slither across the floor, to picking the perfect moments to show her bull-headed stubborn streak and sassy mouth in such places as the library or the sweet poignant quiet moment in a child’s play where she chose to pass noxious gas, loudly; we have been amazed, astounded and yes even amused at times by our tornado on feet.
There are days she is so emotional, we have to send her to her room to have a good cry. After 10 minutes of raining tears and earth shaking bellows I have checked on her only to be told between her heart breaking body racking sobs, ‘I’M …gasp… NOT …snort-sniff… DONE …sob… YET!’ and 45 minutes later she prancingly exits her room, sunshine on her face, eyes twinkling and in sing song voice announces with wonder ‘Mommy, I’m not crying anymore!’.
She is the most unpredictable child I have ever met. One of my favorite stories about her is when we were driving to the store and my husband was discussing his exasperation with her on what had been an especially trying day. He told me in deep frustration ‘Honey, I even spanked the daylights out of her, and she STILL wouldn’t listen!’ And just as soon as he finished the sentence, Emmi’s raspy lisping voice piped up from the back seat as she reprimandingly shouted ‘No you didn’t Daddy! I thtill got the daylighth in me!’ And of course, we laughed, and laughed and laughed.
We have had to be creative in our measures of discipline with her, finding out what works, and what very obviously doesn’t work. And yes, I have noticed the snooty single women watching me at the grocery checkout as my daughter has a perfectly orchestrated meltdown that showcases me as having poor parenting skills (in their opinion). But I know better now. Just like any storm, the dramatic display of my strong-willed child will pass and I’ve learned to pick my battles, well… most of the time.
I really wouldn’t trade my fireball daughter for anything because like I said, I marvel at this child. She is only 4 years old and she is already so many things I always wanted to be. Bold, witty, aggressive, funny, endearing, tenderhearted and nurturing. And I love her so absolutely passionately that I cannot imagine life without her. I can’t get enough of her. She just amazes me.

The Loss of a Friend

Originally posted 02/23/08, but edited to reflect present day:

Since joining various social online networks, I've had the best time finding people that probably thought I had forgotten them, or that more likely had forgotten me. I've found relatives I haven't seen in several years, friends I haven't seen in more than a decade and schoolmates that honestly, I can't remember their last name, but their faces do look vaguely familiar to me. Just to know that I can click on a friend's page and see what is happening in their lives or how their children are growing makes me feel like I'm 'virtually' involved in their lives again. There are just some people that I will never forget and it's nice to stay in touch even if it's only 'virtually'. So I've been having a lot of fun searching for my peeps and sending out friend requests.

The weird part is I never considered some people wouldn't want to accept me as one of their 'friends'. Okay, maybe one or two I thought might not accept me because I wasn't the coolest kid back in high school and didn't run with the in crowd, but I wasn't exactly a reject either. Or at least I'm egocentric enough to think I wasn't. But to be rejected by someone I've known for years and have laughed with, that my kids have played with their kid(s), that I have gone to church with; well, to be honest it's a bit of shocker.

I'm stepping back to do some self-evaluation and I'm faced with some confusion. It's true, much has changed in my life over the last several years. When I married I somehow dropped the ball on some important friendships and realized later after my blissful newlywed months that I neglected some extremely special people. Particularly, a bridesmaid whose friendship was vital for me as a single. I still miss laughing with that friend and so often think about her. She's one of the few people I wasn't able to find (until recently ~ love you Silver!).

After college, I was the best letter writer and used so much postage on the massive mailouts to the friends I'd made there that I knew the postman on a first name basis, literally. I used to be so great at keeping in touch with friends and somehow once I married and had children my priorities completely shifted. Especially with the recurring physical battles my husband has faced in the last few years (www.nnff.com - look for his survivor story under Donnie Thibodaux), my focus has been primarily on my immediate family. But I'm trying to change the trend I created and although of course my husband and kiddos are still my priority, I'm working hard on attempting to be less selfish, more giving and being there as much as I possibly can for my friends even if only through emails or comments and occasional phone calls for the time being.

But the rejection or the act of not accepting me as a friend has really thrown me. I remember back in junior high, how excruciatingly painful it was that I wasn't 'popular'. I was not the IT girl, I did not have the latest greatest 80's wardrobe, (although I did have gorgeous hair thanks to my mom the greatest hairstylist I've ever known) and I was very much the shrinking violet - wallflower. Eventually there was a group of friends that I became a part of during those preteen years and somehow I suddenly belonged. We even called ourselves 'The Group'. There were 6 or 7 of us and we did everything together from hanging out in the halls, to sleepovers, to weekend mall excursions until one day the leader of our group decided I didn't quite fit anymore.

She was the most influential girl I knew at the time and when she passed me a note between classes I was thrilled. Until I opened it and read her kindly worded note that she didn't think we should hang out anymore because our group had become too crowded, but she would still say hi to me in the halls. I didn't know what I had done, or what I hadn't done. That memory still haunts me and even today I would genuinely love to know what triggered that note of non-acceptance and social ostracization. It's no surprise that years later as a young single my heart's desire was to serve as a junior high youth teacher at church. I well remembered what I had endured and wanted to make some kind of difference for kids in that potentially tormenting age bracket. Being rejected as a teenager was nearly the end of the world for me, or at least in my highly hormonal state I thought it was.

The non-acceptance of this particular friend request has my head spinning. I'm sure it's not meant to personally offend or hurt me and I'm not asking for a pity acceptance by writing this blog. And please understand too my words are not written in a ranting or raving tone. I only hope to sincerely convey my heart, imperfections and all. In the ministry world there are many challenges to deal with. After serving a ministry for a period of time, your heart becomes knit together and entwined with the people you work for, the people you work with and the people of the church. In many ways it's a marriage of sorts and parting is always awkward, no matter how smooth of a transition you attempt to make it. I haven't been through a divorce, but I can imagine the feelings of conflicting loyalties must be much the same.

A few years ago, we spent 5 years on staff as Music Pastors at a church in Arkansas. We fell in love with the people of the church from our first conversation with the Pastors. We wholeheartedly took on the vision of the church and did our very best to put 100% of ourselves into everything we put our hands to. When God spoke to us that our season there was over, we were hesitant to leave because of the relationships we had formed and the people we loved because to us, they had become our family. But when God speaks we've learned it is wise to listen and to obey, so despite our ties there we resigned. We left without a place to go and without a definite plan or road ahead of us except that God said to go and so we went.

Although leaving a ministry can be an uncomfortable transition on both parts: the ministry left and the minister that left, there is something that hopefully can be understood throughout the transition process. As Christians, we call each other the family of God, brothers and sisters in Christ. We, who hold the truth of God's word as life itself, don't take this bond lightly because that is God's literal word. He calls us His children, which makes us brothers and sisters. I guess that's what has me somewhat confused. If I believe that my friend believes as I do (and I do) then why wouldn't they accept me as a friend? If my friend is my sister or brother in Christ, then we are intrinsically, in-separately family. We forever will be connected. We will worship together, again.

And yet, they have chosen to reject me as a friend. I am not sure if there is something that I may have done that I don't even know that I did to hurt or offend this friend. But if I did, how will I know if I'm not told? How can you fix a wrong if you don't know what it is that you did wrong? I would rather know and ask your forgiveness and move forward to work with you in the kingdom whether we are in the same church, denomination, state or not, than to stand in confusion wondering what I did to be rejected as a friend when at the same time we are still, family. Maybe I'm making more out of this than it is; maybe I'm super analytical and hypersensitive. Maybe I'm being a silly emotional 36 year old little girl. Maybe. But still even to this day, a loss of a friend, just as when I was a preteen, is a devastating thing.

Retro-Blogging

I love to purge. It feels so good to get rid of things I don't use anymore. I use the rule of 'If it hasn't been worn or used in 6 months to 1 year, it's time to get rid of it'. The victims of my purging become designated to piles labeled in my mind as "Trash", "Goodwill", "Ebay" and yes, I admit it, "ReGifting"!

My closet has been savagely edited and now I've moved on to reading through my old rants and blogs and having some good laughs at my own expense. I am closing down my old blog on myspace and recycling a few of the posts that made me snort out loud, sniffle or remind me of a lesson I need to relearn. I'm knee deep reading and weeding through the past to determine what to keep and what to throw.

So to my invisible audience who I think I am talking to when most likely I am just entertaining and amusing myself: Please endure the retro-blogging over the next few days or weeks or however long it takes me to complete this purging process. Be sure to read the 'Hotdogs & Popsicle Sticks' post... oh, so, funny.

Hot Dogs & Popsicle Sticks

Originally blogged 10/05/07:

I have to say, when I thought about having children, some things just never crossed my mind... if you are easily disgusted by doting parents, then please read no further. And if gross things gross you out, really, you need to stop reading RIGHT NOW.

The longer I am a mother, the more I wonder what I was like as a child... where's mom when I need her?!? Here's the latest that my beautiful, lovely children have done:

My daughter Emmi has been potty training herself. Yes, I said, potty training HERSELF. We've been working on it quite a bit, but just mainly going through the motions without any results. A couple of weeks ago, she was 'playing potty' and called me to tell me she had gone poo-poo. So I went to check and expectantly looked in the potty for nothing, when to my surprise she really had done exactly as she said! We commenced to cleaning and as she stood up, she looked proudly in the potty, gasped loudly and said, "Oh momma! It looks like a beeeea-uuuu-tiful hot dog!!!" ~ I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life!

Not to leave out my son , Kellan just had his 5th birthday this past Monday and of course we took him to the Doctor for his 5th year check up. As the Doctor was examining him to make sure he was developing properly in the private area, he said "Oh, what are these popsicle sticks doing here?" My husband and I looked at each other in confusion and I whispered to him, 'Oh, he must be trying to be silly to make Kellan comfortable'. We laughed quietly, relaxed and the exam continued without further mention of popsicle sticks. After the exam we headed out to eat for dinner. Halfway through our meal, I glanced towards my son's plate to the left of me and I noticed about 8 popsicle sticks on the table... and then I put 2 and 2 together... my son had actually put popsicle sticks in his underwear!

Allright, so there it is.

Doggie Paddling

Originally blogged 04/05/06:

Remember when you were first starting to learn to swim? One of the first things you learned to do was to doggie paddle... you submerged yourself nearly completely, with just your head and shoulders barely above the water and you cupped your hands palm down at the water alternately, so that you stayed afloat and moved ever so slowly and slightly from point A to point B. It took a long time to get where you were going, and sometimes it didn't seem like you were moving at all, and it took a lot of effort to keep yourself from sinking down into the water again. You were breathless, you were tired, and you wondered if you'd ever get to where you wanted to go.

Last week my new boss asked me how things were going. I told her I was "doggie paddling", just trying to stay afloat and keep my head above water. Since then, I started thinking how much the concept of doggie paddling can relate to so many areas in life. I don't know about you, but there are some areas I have been doggie paddling in for a while now, desperately trying to get to my destination, feeling like I'm not moving or making any progress, barely able to keep my head above water, breathless, tired and wondering if I'll ever make it.

It's so easy to let life's distractions, worries and concerns overwhelm you to the point that you're struggling to keep yourself from going under. It's easy to make mistakes and it feels nearly impossible to fix them. Sometimes it can feel as if you are nearly drowning. You are stuck in the middle of the water, all alone, desperately trying to keep from sinking. And sometimes you can get so tired, so exhausted from all your effort to stay afloat, that you can't keep your head above the water, you can't quite catch your breath... it's as if you've reached the point of no return and there is no other way to go but down.

This is where I am so glad, so thankful, so blessed... because I have a God, a personal God, who is my best friend, my biggest encourager, my source of joy, my confidence and my strength. Every mistake that I make, He has forgiveness for. His strength makes up for my every weakness. Without Him I am nothing, and with Him I can do anything, be anything. When I've done all that I can do, I have used all my resources, I have doggie paddled until I can't doggie paddle anymore... He is there to rescue me. When I fail, He is there to lift me up and keep me from drowning. He breathes new life into me, and gives me strength to begin again. That's the kind of God that I have... the kind that will give everything He has to give me everything I need, whether I deserve it, or not.

This weekend is Easter weekend, a weekend that symbolizes the moment that God gave his only son to bear the weight of all our burdens, all our pains, all our grief’s and sorrows, all our failures. And as well it symbolizes Christ rising from the dead. His resurrection brings new life, renewal, healing, hope, forgiveness, peace and freedom.

And this is my prayer. I pray that this will be a weekend of renewal for you... where you are weak, you can find strength in Him; where you are wounded, you can find healing in Him; where you have failed, you can find forgiveness in Him. And if you are doggie paddling right now, I pray you will surrender to Him whatever it is you are holding onto and trying to make happen on your own. No matter what it is you've done, no matter what obstacle you're facing, He is there just waiting to lift you up and keep you from drowning. That's the kind of God He is...