you're welcome :)

ah...

new every morning

It's been a hard day to be an adoptive mom.

Hearing her talk about her birthmother nonstop. Nonstop. Nonstop. It's a new phase we seem to be in. No memory of her. Just wants to talk about how she was a baby in her "birth mother's" tummy. All. The. Time. I know it's healthy to process through. But this level of constancy is getting o-l-d.

Likely connected to this phase, has come a period of trial and testing. So much so that we had to hear the hard but honest words from her sister, "I wish we'd never ... " (well, you know). And in that moment, you couldn't blame her. In a day's time she'd had her ipod reset to Chinese, she'd been hit in the back of the head with a book, she'd been grossed out at our girls-only-lunch-date by a half chewed chip being spit into the community bowl of salsa, and she'd had her blankets bitten. Yes, I said her bed blankets were bitten. And slobbered all over. So, who could blame her with the, "I wish we'd never..." comment. But it hurts. I know she doesn't mean it and I know she feels guilty not only for saying it but for thinking it. I know because that's how I've felt when I've thought it...

It's been a hard day. Yes. Harder than most, for sure. But as I put my daughter down to bed, I sang to her (as I always do). I stroked her forehead and sang,

I'll love you forever

And I'll like you for always

As long as I'm living

My baby you'll be

The steadfast Love of the Lord never ceases

His mercies never come to an end

They are new every morning

New every morning

Great is thy faithfulness O Lord

Great is they faithfulness

And I breathed a prayer, that our Good God would hit her and I (and her sister) with a double dose tomorrow morning. Three hours and 52 minutes to go ... (weak grin).

pondering parenting: one change at a time

Parenting our kids, we've found it's overwhelming to think about all the goals we have for them - all the character flaws we see that need direction - to consider all that at once is too much. So we sit outside on the front porch and drink wine together (my husband and I, not the kids ;) ) and talk about what matters most. What do we want to hone in on. Then, the next day we talk to him or her about it. And we work on it, all of us, together.

But you know what's infinitely more impactful on our family life?

When we do this with our selves. The parents.

Parenting better means parenting myself better. It means sitting with God, identifying what (in my life) is most in need of work, and committing to work on it - Together. It's intentional. It's exhausting. It's Holy-Spirit-Glory-Strength kind of work. But the payoff for correcting one bad parent-behavior is equal to a hundred bad child-behaviors.

For example? Well, I remember the day I decided not to Y-E-L-L at my children across a crowd anymore. I don't know if I read something or if an older wiser mother pointed it out or if God just revealed to me, "Hey love, this habit is ugly. Put it off and put on a new one." However it was brought to my attention, I distinctly remember becoming aware that every time I corrected my (then) wee ones by Y-E-L-L-I-N-G across a crowd, I was drawing attention to them as the "bad kids". I was painting a bulls-eye on them in the eyes of everyone else. Not only that, but when I addressed them that way ... they didn't listen. The yelling at them to listen would turn into chasing after them. It was ugly all around. Disrespectful. Ineffective. Tiring. Depressing.

So I changed. I started calmly calling them to me. I started asking them to take my hands in theirs and look me in the eye. And I started talking with them. Privately. Quietly. For this to work I first had to train them to come to me when I called their name. We played games where they'd hide and I'd call a name. The child I called would reply, "Coming mom!" and run to me as fast as they could. It was fun. Then I expected that whenever we were out. It took training but it stuck. When we're consistent, it's awesome. When we're not, I'm reminded to be more intentional.

We added a new twist. When I need all of them at once I call "Huddle!" and we

pull in close like a sports' team to talk. I love this because I can still see us calling family huddles no matter how old we all get.

And can I just say? Wow. Night and day. Effective. Respectful. Impactful. And it feels good, too. Read: not depressing.

Now, this may seem like common sense. And it is. It's not profound to suggest that it's better pull someone aside than to yell at them in front of God and everybody. But to put it into practice? Regular rhythm-of-life practice? To put off an old habit and put on a new one? Well, that takes a lot more than common sense. It takes conviction. Consistency. Discipline.

Kind of like training a two year old.

But I'll say it again.

In our families, the payoff for correcting one bad parent-behavior is equal to a hundred bad child-behaviors.

beloved

I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics. Even if they dress in rags, even if they aren't pretty, or smart, or young. They're still princesses. All of us. Didn't your father ever tell you that? Didn't he? ~A Little Princess

pondering snark

One of my greatest temptations is to criticism, sarcasm, and a snarky attitude. Biting my tongue to keep myself from saying something ugly, I'm learning, doesn't make me a hypocrite. It's just one way of keeping my sinfulness from spreading to others.

I can justify all day long why I woke up this morning wanting to jump online and say something brilliantly cutting about the fact that I'm embarrassed at our country, for having treated its first black President like a non-citizen (I almost said second class citizen but that's not true). I want to call out the injustice, racism, and other-isms ("his name sounds Muslim") inherent in this situation. And we should. But if (when?) I do, I must do so with humility. Until I can speak that way, I must not speak at all. At least that is my conviction, today.

And as my heart broke for the people who have lost their lives in Alabama in last night's storms and tornadoes, another temptation crept into my mind and fingertips (another "tongue", as far as we writers go). I wanted to be snarky and ask whether the people of the southeast, the beautiful land we drove through just last week, had done something to "deserve" this "judgement". Many are quick to point out why others deserve what comes to them. What's the reason here? Again, to speak boldly and truthfully about injustice and hypocrisy is needful in its proper place. But with pleasure? With a triumphal spirit? With a desire to get a laugh or a thumbs up or a big ole pat on the back? No. That's just me being puffed up about how right I think I am. That's me pushing my way forward to the most honored seat at the table. And that's sick.

My point is that a lot of my walk these days is about testing myself. Checking myself. Inspecting my motives. Trying to confess the ugliness (there is so much of it) before it escapes me and infects others. Longing for it to disappear not only from my words but from my thoughts and heart. It will be a process to last a lifetime, I am certain.

Be agreeable, be sympathetic, be loving, be compassionate, be humble. That goes for all of you, no exceptions. No retaliation. No sharp-tongued sarcasm. Instead, bless—that's your job, to bless. You'll be a blessing and also get a blessing.

Whoever wants to embrace life
and see the day fill up with good,
Here's what you do:
Say nothing evil or hurtful;
Snub evil and cultivate good;
run after peace for all you're worth.

I Peter 3, The Message

hard to improve on Bono

That there’s a force of love and logic behind the universe is overwhelming to start with, if you believe it. But the idea that that same love and logic would choose to describe itself as a baby born in shit and straw and poverty, is genius. And brings me to my knees, literally.

a good read

a friend shared this with me: Remodeling Hell by Brad Jersak

I was touched by this recollection

As a sensitive little boy...

I accepted in good faith

the word of camp counselors

who described the fate of the

lost as we stoked orange

coals during late night

marshmallow roasts.

What about the unchurched

cousins I loved so dearly?

God loved them, but if they

didn’t love him back, he would

skewer them on an everlasting

rotisserie—just like the stick I

used for roasting my

marshmallows.

And appreciate this excerpt:

That said, the data summarized
herein did lead me to four conclusions,
which you may or may not
share after all is said and done:

1. We cannot presume to know
that all will be saved or that any
will not be saved.

2. The revelation of God in
Christ includes real warnings about
the possibility of damnation for
some and also the real possibility
that redemption may extend to all.

3. We not only dare hope and
pray that God’s mercy would finally
triumph over judgment; the love
of God obligates us to such hope

4. Revelation 21–22 provides a
test case for a biblical theology of
eschatological hope.