Faith Like a Child

Faith.
For being such a simple word it sure is hard. Just when I feel confident in my faith something happens and it doesn't take but two hot seconds for me to start doubting again. I doubt myself, sometimes my beliefs,  I doubt God and his presence or concern for my life. It takes work to reel myself back in to how I know I need to think. Sometimes I just picture God saying, "I got this, Maggie. Just like I had the thing before, and like I'll get the next thing to come."

Why, however, is it so easy for kids to have faith? My children have a raw unhindered faith in my husband and I as their parents. The other day I was going down the stairs holding my 9 month old. As I neared the end, I went bounding fast down the last few to jostle her around just so I could hear her infectious giggle. As I started going faster, she let go of me and put her arms in the air with her head back laughing continuously. She trusts me that I wont let go of her. In fact, I know it didn't event enter her mind. She let go and had an amazingly free experience. Why can't I do this? As God carries me through life, why do I hold on so tightly? And, when the bumps in road come, I cling harder in fear of getting hurt or being let down or worse....loosing control. Imagine having a faith where I just let go. Experience to the fullest of what I'm supposed to out of every situation. It might even put a smile on my face.

Not but an hour later, my husband came home from work and started playing with the kids. I was cooking dinner and peaked into the playroom to see him holding my son (2 years old) by one ankle upside down and swinging him around. This was not an unusual sight in this house, but I couldn't help but notice the joy on my sons face as he flew through the air. He completely trusted his daddy to not drop him or put him in harms way in any way. So much so, he was thrilled to be dangling by his foot upside down and asked him to do it again as soon as he was put down. Sometimes I think we miss out on some of the fun that God intended for us because of our lack of faith.

That night we had a bad thunderstorm, and my 4 year old ended up sleeping on our bedroom floor. In the morning I said to her, "You know what thunder is, and you know that it can't hurt you, so why were so scared last night?" She replied, "I don't know it just made me feel better to be close to you." I loved her response. You see in reality I am as helpless as she is when compared to Mother Nature, but she didn't expect me to stop the storm or make it go away. She just wanted to be close. Wouldn't it be wonderful if when the storms of life blow in and thunder hits so close the house shakes, I just set up camp at the foot of Jesus? Not because I expect him to make the storm stop (which he can!) but because just being close brings comfort. 

What a challenge.
To have the unhindered all trusting faith of a child.
So the next time God goes bounding down the stairs....Let go and laugh loudly.
The next time He hangs me upside down by my ankles.....enjoy every minute.
The next time the skies get dark and the winds blow hard....run to His presence.
Challenge accepted!

Today, I have a four year old!

Four years ago today my water broke and my husband and I began a 17 hour journey to parenthood. I've heard my own "birth story" 26 (almost 27) times, told to me every year by my mom. I have vivid memories of rolling my eyes as she told me how she curled her hair before going to the hospital because she didn't know any better and then described in detail the horror of 24 painful hours of all natural back labor before I came into the world. I never understood why she felt the need to relive that every year....then it happened to me! Needless to say, I totally get it now!

There's something about reliving the nervous excitement mixed with sheer panic that only giving birth can provide. So, here's an extremely shortened version:

Four days before my due date I stopped working. For three of those days I did nothing but watch movies and bounce on an exercise ball. My husband and I were watching a movie one day before my due date when my water broke. I really thought that meant we'd be holding a baby soon. After all, in the movies when someone's water brakes they have about 5 painful contractions and then a three month old, dry, cute, cooing baby pops out. What no movie shows is a women whose water broke 12 hrs ago and is still only 4cm dilated......I opted for the epidural around hour 15 (5 hrs on Pitocin). My nurse kept reminding me that this was my first baby and I could push for 3 hours!! (I kept the "ARE YOU NUTS?" to myself!) Around 4:00pm it finally was time to start pushing. After 1 "practice" push I heard, "STOP PUSHING!" I watched two nurses and my doctor frantically open packages and run around for a minute and then I was told to push again. Quickly followed by, "STOP PUSHING!" again. Her head was out and her shoulders were stuck. My doctor shared a not so subtle nod to my nurse who pushed the Code button on the wall, and all of a sudden I DID feel like I was in a movie. People started running into the room, my husband was pushed out of the way, and everyone got serious. My nurse was 8 months pregnant with twins so the next person to come in the room jumped on the bed with me. My doctor counted to 3 and the nurse jumped on my stomach. Not pushed, not applied pressure, but JUMPED!! Her knees left the bed...I know....I was there. At that moment I thanked God for the decision to get the epidural as I surely would have not survived what just happened. Out shot a 7lb 10oz baby girl! There was more running around for a few minutes and then just as fast as they all came, they all went away. 

My perfectly fine daughter spent the first hour of her life in her daddy's arms (I was being attended to, and yes it did take that long!) it was love at first sight for those two, and he's still her favorite person! Becoming a parent was surreal. This little person is a mix of my husband I (this means she needs some extra prayer!), and a gift from God. What a responsibility, and what a blessing! 

My husband gave her the nickname "Chili Pepper". This fits her perfectly. She adds so much flavor to our life. Having her makes everything just a little bit more special. She's hot and spicy and keeps you wanted more of her, however if you get the raw thing....it can be....um.....a little to much, and leave you needed a large glass of water to cool down! She has turned into quite an amazing little girl in these few short years of her life. She brightens our home and brings joy to our everyday! She is a natural born leader, and loves having her little brother and sister along on her latest journeyg's. She has an amazing imagination and loves to snuggle. She has been a huge challenge and an even greater joy. I can't believe God has trusted her in our care, and I can't wait to see what He does with the rest of her life. I feel blessed to have a front row seat for it. 

Balancing the "Mommy guilt"

Apparently I have severely underestimated my ability to carve out 30 minutes a week to write on this blog. I'm going to go ahead and blame the baby for teething with a double ear infection, the toddler for transitioning into a "big boy" bead, and the 4 year old birthday party in less than 2 weeks. This would explain why I've been slipping into a coma-like state come 8:30pm every night.

Tonight I was determined to grab a snack and settle down to start typing. What I realized when I sat down was that it was driven by a certain kind of "Mommy guilt". Not the normal: "I don't provide organic snacks and perfectly educationally stimulating activities for my children every day" guilt, but the reverse kind. The "you need to take care of yourself" kind. Lately I've been getting hit from both sides. Do more for my family and home? or do more for me?

Sure I could stay up late every night making homemade fresh organic goodies for the next day, but my marriage would start to suffer and surely my sanity wouldn't be far behind. It's so easy to log into Pinterest and start pinning away all the good intentions in my head. Every closet organized with a purpose and perfect functionality, my children's rooms magazine perfect, the garden, the craft corner, the laundry room, even a better "junk" drawer. It always starts out innocent enough. When I have time for one of these projects I'll know where to find it now. But, all to fast it turns into discontentment, or discouragement, or "mommy guilt". Why doesn't my house look like my pin boards? What's wrong with me that I can't find time to glue gun, modge podge, cut, crinkle, bake, cook, and create my way to a better home? (I have three answers, and they're all sleeping upstairs.)

In my not so strong moments, yes, I think these things. I feel the guilt. Am I letting my family down by not providing such an environment? Then there's the other kind of guilt. "Why don't you have a hobby?" I ask myself this a lot. Well, most hobbies take time. This is something I really don't have much of and to be quite honest, when I do get it I would choose sleep over scrapbooking any day. This can't be healthy right? Many articles and other blog posts have been focusing on the importance of taking time for yourself. After all, if you don't take care of yourself you can't take care of others. Right? Or is this some notion to hide behind? Is there something wrong with sacrifice?

I'm having a crazy time balancing it all. Pour myself into my family and home. Pour myself into myself. I believe I just struck the key word. BALANCE! This is where I am. I want the best for my family and will provide it to the best of my ability. To reach that ability it also means I have to do some things for myself. (Does this mean I need a pedicure every few weeks? I think not....Another post for another time.) At the end of the day while I'm laying in that coma-like state....I have to remind myself that I'm the very mom my kids need. And my kids are very kids that I need. My husband is my partner and I need him. I'll do what I can to make my home a homey welcoming place to open to friends and for my children to enjoy and remember, but I wont sacrifice reading books and building forts to get it. I'm done feeling guilty for giving my kids goldfish and not having pictures up on my bedroom walls. After all, I have three little kids and sometimes that's just hard....and I'm okay with that.

Now I have couch calling my name.