what they don't tell you

what they don't tell you at your baby shower is that you will be sitting outside one afternoon watching your children playing, and your 5 year old daughter will suddenly grab her stomach and inform you that her "tummy hurts."  they don't tell you that at that point, you have exactly 3 minutes and 29 seconds to find a pony tail holder to put her hair up before she spews all over the driveway.  they don't tell you that the boys playing in the driveway will then scatter to the outermost parts of the earth and leave you to clean up the mess, along with the mess they've made with all the balls, bikes, scooters, nerf guns, etc.  they don't tell you that cleaning up this mess will have to wait, as you first have to change the five year olds' clothes, rinse off her shoes, wipe the vomit out of her wispy hair and off her hands and face.  you will then have to find her a new tshirt, and blanket that she will immediately puke on.  those will need to go in the washer and she will need a new tshirt, and blanket.  they don't tell you that she will continue throwing up at regular 5 minute intervals for the next 6 hours.  they also don't tell you that she is not old enough to make it to the toilet and that you will have to pay attention to her to make sure you have the bucket ready at the right times in order to avoid buying a new chair and ottoman and a new room full of carpet. 

they also don't tell you that somehow, in these 5 minute intervals between hurls you will be taking care of the mess, as well as your other two children, all the while assuring your daughter that its not her fault, that she's not going to die, that you love her and that you're so sorry she's sick.  here's what you'll be doing:

interval 1: cleaning up daughter. sending a quick text message to your husband to inform him of the situation.
interval 2: putting daughter's clothes and towels and blanket in the washer and starting load #1
interval 3: taking a waterhose to the driveway to scatter the chunks of curdled milk into the grass
interval 4: informing 6 year old son that he is responsible for entertaining 2 year old son in the backyard until further notice
interval 5: informing 6 year old's friends that it is time for them to go home because its not fair if they play basketball in your driveway while your son watches through the holes in the gate longingly, all the while becoming more and more bitter at his sick sister, and his too-little-to-roam-free little brother. 
interval 6: taking resolve cleaner to the living room carpet to avoid the impending doom of smell that is sure to get worse with every second the residue sinks into the fibers of the floor.  at this point you will have the sense to place a towel underneath your daughter to cover the chair, as well as a towel on the floor in front of her to cover the carpet. 
interval 7: conversation with 6 year old and 2 year old to remind them that you are not mad at them and that you know its not fair, but that mommy needs them to play in the backyard for a little while until she can think straight. 
interval 8: stroking daughter's hair, getting her a cool rag and some 7up.  she will then request some "crunchy" ice to chew on.  your heart will then break as you look into her pale little face.  you will then remind yourself that it's not her fault. 
interval 9: move load of laundry 1 from washer to dryer.  move load of laundry 2 from garage floor to washer
interval 10: taking a breather, realizing that you will have to inform your husband when he arrives home in 20 minutes that he is on his own for dinner.  hoping that he will understand. 
interval 11: retrieving other children from the backyard and finding them some cars to play with in the living room while they wait for their daddy to come home and save them
interval 12: answering questions from 6 year old boy about why girls cry when they throw up.  your answer will sound something like, "because girls cry for lots of reasons."  you will then begin to cry yourself.
interval 13: wait, no, vomit 13: as your daughter is leaning over the bucket, your husband will walk in the door.  somewhere in the back of your mind you are grateful that he is walking in right as she is puking so that he will understand the seriousness of this situation and that he will feel sorry for you.  and for her.  and for the boys.  sorry enough to not complain about having to fix dinner or fend for himself for the next 5 hours.
interval 14: grabbing a piece of cheese for yourself, as you are starving
interval 15: making a fold over peanut butter and honey sandwich, remembering not to eat it in front of your daughter.
interval 16: remember to thank Jesus for helping you until help could come.  remember to ask him to help your daughter feel better.  remember to ask him for continued sanity as you know that more than likely, she's not the only one who will get sick. 

ok, so at least the intervals are getting longer now, but less predictable.  so you will now not be able to rely simply on the clock to tell you when she will need the bucket.  you will now need to listen for her to begin shifting in the chair.  she hates throwing up so she will always shake her head "no" when you offer her the bucket.  but you can know that when she takes two deep breaths and begins to wimper slightly that its coming, so be ready!  and now that you've somewhat gotten down a routine to try and keep the vomit off the floor and off the blankets, your attention will now turn to your marriage.

because the whole time you are taking care of your sick child, you are mad at all the people who didn't tell you at your wedding shower that you would be wondering if your husband will still love you when he walks in the door and finds you this way.  will he still think you're beautiful when you haven't washed your hair in 3 days because you've been sick and taking care of sick kids?  will he still hug you when you smell like stomach acid and sour milk?  will he still cherish you when you look like you just rolled out of bed?  when he finds you in your pjs instead of a nightgown, and he has to fend for himself with cold cereal instead of coming home to the steam rising from his plate on the table, will he still say, "you're the one!" 

what they don't tell you is...... you better pick a good mate, whose beauty is more than their clothes or how they smell or how their hair looks.  and if you've already picked one, pray for them.  because they didn't expect it to be like this either. 

the beginning

for some reason it seemed appropriate to me to post some of my old poetry.  i haven't looked at most of it in years so this ought to be interesting.  i began writing as a teenager and one of the first poems i wrote was called, "the artist."  it's about God being the Creator.  its funny because i think a lot of my writing parallels my growth as a Christ-follower.  this one was written while i was a spiritual infant.  funny, cuz i think one of the first things we must accept in knowing God is knowing Him as Creator.  that's why the Bible starts "in the beginning," with creation.  "For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities - his eternal power and divine nature - have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse."  (Romans 1:20)  accurate science is proof of a Creator God.  and evidenced by that creation, the Creator is infinitely wiser than science is ever capable of proving Him to be. 

c.s. lewis has a brilliant symbolic account of creation in chapter 9 of his book, "the magician's nephew," which is part of his chronicles of narnia series.  it brought me to tears.  for beauty and excellence, please reference that, or Psalm 8 or Genesis 1.  for fun you can read this one.

The Artist

The brush his hand, the pallet his heart

The artist forever draws

His strokes perfecting every part

In his painting no hidden flaws

He paints the sun's set and its rise

The leaves in autumn's fall

The grass below; above the skies

The clouds, he paints them all

The sandy pebbles on glistening shore

Dashes of sunshine on the waves

The white sand under blue water, the shallow floor

The dark rocks within the caves

The canyons splashed with his delicate patterns

The rivers raging and free

The moonlight lit by his candle lanterns

With the falling stars he paints harmony

The mountains are peaked with snowy white

His brush flows for the shadows with gray

Majestic trees, vast lakes will seize the sight

While in valleys shades of green softly lay

He paints the eagle with wings soaring high

Picks colors for the flowers below

Sketching animals of the fields, birds of the sky

In everything his workmanship shows

The rainbow of colors from which he chooses

The reds, the yellows, the blues

Through time not one speck of its beauty loses

But gains power and love in all hues

But the most precious of his many works

The one by which man was blessed

Is the one he painted the day he hurt

So that any soul could live in rest

But why oh Lord on that day

Was red the color you chose?

And why for the color of blood did you pay

When you could’ve painted a lush red rose?

He poured the red over the black

Covering guilt sin and shame

My heart his love nevermore to lack

For in white he colored my name

December 5, 1995

here goes nothin'

over the last few weeks, several friends and family have mentioned they thought i should write a blog, so here goes.  i have no idea what will come of this or even if anyone will read it, but it seems good to me to write for God's glory, so i will. 

i didn't really know what to call it, or how to best sum up the purpose of my words and my life in 2 square inches. then the term, "cabin fever" came to mind. i turned to webster's dictionary to see if "cabin fever" truly fits with where i am in life, and here's the definition i found:
"cabin fever: noun: extreme irritability and restlessness from living in isolation or a confined indoor area for a prolonged period of time."

haha.  yep. any of you other stay at home moms can surely resonate with this on some levels.  "restless" is definitely a term i would use to describe myself most of the time, and  "irritable" is the term my kids would probably use if their vocabulary was that big.  so then i looked up the term "restless." again, from webster's, its an adjective meaning: (1) lacking or denying rest, (2) continuously moving, and (3) manifesting unrest especially of mind."  wow.  you might as well put my picture on that page of the dictionary! 

sometimes i lack rest because of life.  sickness and the stress of everyday living can keep me from rest.  but sometimes i willfully deny rest by keeping myself too busy.  i often scribble my name on every sign up sheet that pops up just to feel productive.  and then i wonder why i'm so stressed out.  Jesus said, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)  maybe i ought to quit enslaving myself to the drudgery of my own to do list and simply take on the yoke that Jesus designed me for.  i ought to filter every potential task through him first, making sure it fits with His purpose for my life.  maybe that way, i won't get stuck in the mud so much.

i am also usually and continuously moving.  i don't do sitting well, and i don't do silence well.  i feel like i've got to be getting something accomplished, so most of the time, even if i'm watching the tv, i am multitasking and working on something else.  and i don't like being left alone with my thoughts much, so there is always some kind of background noise from either the tv or the radio.  no wonder eight hours of sleep just doesn't seem to cut it anymore.  but there is often a still, small voice in the back of my head somewhere, or in my spirit, whispering, "Be still and know that I am God...." (Psalm 46:10)  although i believe we can talk to God amidst the business of our life, i don't think we can hear him unless we get still and silent.    

i'm also real good at "manifesting unrest, especially of mind."  i love the way that's worded, and unfortunately, it's so me!  anxiety, worry, angst, stress, good grief, whatever you want to call it, i'm good at it.  but God's Word says in Philippians 4:6-7, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."  so basically, i can worry, or i can pray, but i can't do both at the same time.  i get to choose rest or unrest and the difference is keeping my thoughts to myself or taking them to Jesus.   

i believe that i will always be somewhat restless on this side of heaven.  i was not created for this world, and i am longing for my real home.  but while i am here, i can live in rest by resting from my work and resting in His perfect work on the cross.  (Hebrews 4)