A Village

In early September, the kids and I were in Texas for a visit, and I wrote this as a caption to a pic I snapped while I hung out with a girlfriend of mine who was going through some tough stuff.
 
I believe with my whole heart
that we were made for deep, connected, belly-laughing, ugly-crying community.
A village of perfectly broken people to sharpen us,
develop our empathy,
foster our creativity,
holler for us in season of joy
and lock arms with us in seasons of struggle.
A web of love and admiration and respect
that will launch us into life
and catch us when life's junk gets us down.
I'm so thankful, down deep in my soul for my people.

It's true. Every word of  it. 

I've been wrestling all my to-dos in to submission so I could find some time to write a post on the vital role community plays in my life. I've been turning over all my thoughts, kneading them into one cohesive mass like bread dough. But now... I thought I was ready. I was. But when I sat down today to actually get my thoughts out, I kept seeing faces in my minds eye. Faces of people I don't even know. Pictures I've seen over the last few days, brown eyes like mine, blue eyes like Aubrie's, green like Jace's. And community turned into a subject that meant so much more. 

Last night, scrolling through facebook and seeing videos, articles, and observances people have posted I was struck by the tone of the comments that went with them. Some angry, argumentative, bitter. Others compassionate, sad, even hopeless. I thought about replying to a few, or even posting my own opinion, but after a minute, my conclusion was that it doesn't matter. Writing a post on facebook doesn't matter. My opinion doesn't matter. It doesn't. Because it does nothing to help the situation. So then, I thought, "What can I do to help?" Pray. From last night:

There's so much hurt.
Rivers feeding into oceans of tears that have rolled down the cheeks of people.
People that Jesus loves.
Tears caused by people.
People that Jesus loves and died for.
I wouldn't even begin to assume that I know the steps to right the wrong.
I don't.
But I know my job.
Love God.
Love people.
Tragedies have a way of dividing as we try and categorize good and bad.
My very human brain wants a solution that makes sense.
My very human heart floods with emotion.
And I'll pray.
For wisdom to infect the minds of those in positions of leadership.
For mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers that endure the terror incessantly while I have the luxury of scrolling through Facebook.
For the hearts that are tender and hurting.
For the families deeply mourning a loss- of loved ones, of safety, of homes, of the hope of tomorrow- that my privileged ears will never hear about because the media wasn't there.
I don't have a solution.
But I have a heart to pray.

It's not that I think my own village is insignificant or diminished because of the news. They're just as important. Their joy. Their trials. My people are important. We hold each other up in the most beautifully imperfect way. My weaknesses are made stronger because of their strengths. And it's an honor to hold the vivid hurt of another's heart and, with the love of Jesus, be a help. Burdens are lightened when they're shared with other hearts, made bearable when we're able to look to our left and our right and see people walking through the deep valley with us simply because of their love for us. Being human. It's a condition we all share. 

My village. They're going to help raise my children. They'll be lamp posts, gently lighting the path for my littles. My people are going to keep me sane when I'm at the edge. They'll tell me they've been there, or laugh about how they will be there eventually and we'll share a glass of wine and dance it out. These precious people will be the ears that hear the crazy that comes out of my mouth and will be the gentle rain that puts out the fires of marriage and parenthood that will inevitably come. And then I'll return the kindness. Human. Good. Bad. Gray. Complicated. Loved. 

Romans 12: 4-8 says:
"⁴ For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, ⁵ so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. ⁶ We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your^[a] faith; ⁷ if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; ⁸ if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead,^[b] do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully."

We're different. But together, we're best. As I read that passage, I can name the people in my circle that fulfill these different roles and more. But then, again my mind shifts and I think of the greater body. The Church. Us. We. We're better together. Stronger when our voices are lifted as one as we seek wisdom, ask for the mercy we don't always feel towards others, and receive the grace that none of us have earned or deserve. My village is important. And so is theirs. My people are loved fiercely by The Lord. And so are they.

I have zero answers. I'm hoping that sometimes there's wisdom in, "I don't know". I hope there's some redeeming maturity in admitting to the lack of experience or knowledge to form a solidly educated opinion of a situation. I'm holding out for the opportunity for growth rather than the death of conversation that can happen when thoughts saturated with feelings (and not enough facts) are haphazardly disguised as discussion points.

I'm still hopeful.

 

Overload

I don't really know if I'll even publish this one. Goodness. I'm a bit of a wreck. Big changes usually do this to me. I don't even know where to start, because my brain is on a cyclical thought pattern that keeps repeating. Do you ever have that happen? It's so distracting and frustrating.

We're moving. And it's a good thing. There's nothing wrong with where we are, it's just time to be closer to family, friends, our people. We miss them so much. I'm so excited to be moving. It's going to feel so good to be around the familiar, to have the comfort of community. To maybe have a date-night that doesn't involve squeezing in conversation in-between sets while the kids are in childcare at the gym! I'm so grateful that we have the flexibility to move and that things have worked out well. All the good feelings. So many good feelings....

And so many other ones too. The big kids (mainly Jace, but the girls too) have asked us if they could try going to public school when we move. We said yes. Yes! Go to school, be brave, dive into new situations with courage and curiosity. Make friends. Learn lots. And tell me all about it....

But in my head, I think...stay little. Stay with me. In my arms. In my sight. Within my reach. Stay where I can make sure you're safe. Your hearts, your minds, your bodies, your spirits. Stay close.

Will their teachers love them? I mean, sure, I hope they'll learn. But really? I hope they'll be valued, seen, loved.

A wreck, I tell you. I'm a mess here.

Will someone be rude to Jace because of Tourette's? Will Aubrie's teacher know that she's a hands-on learner and needs to see something done before it clicks? And my sweet, sweet Bear. All feelings and wanting to please, help, add value. She wears her huge heart on her sleeve. I already ache for the first time it's bruised.

And then I transition to: NO. We do not make decisions based on fear. We don't do that. Having them home was what we needed. What we all needed for a season. And now, we're approaching a new season. Homeschool is not a crutch to aid my anxiety. Our kids, I think they're pretty awesome. I know there will be hurdles for them to jump over, and complicated situations that they'll need our help navigating.

I also know that we're raising them to love Jesus. To love people. And I think their beautiful lights are going to be a blessing to people they meet. There is a lot I wish I could shield them from- everything from bug bites to bullies. But I'd be robbing them. I would be the thief that steals their chance to build character, deep friendships, to learn compassion, and what it feels like to wrestle with the challenge it is to do life with people just as broken as we are. (and Pandora starts playing my favorite hymn at this very second and I lose it...one sec...)

Big changes rattle me. I know we're moving in the right direction. The new, the unknown, what-ifs, they take me over. This is where 2 Cor 10:5 rings out, "We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." And I tell myself, my God isn't a God of anxiety, and worry, and apprehension. He didn't give me a spirit of fear.

“Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God” (Psalm 42:5)

"May our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and by his grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and word." 2Thes 2:16-17

And I will speak scripture over my babies, 2 Col 2:6-8 has been the verse I prayed over my family since September 28, 2009.

"So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the basic principles of this world rather than on Christ"

I felt really weird getting this out via typing, but I'm so glad I did. Often times, I tend to run short in the grace department when it comes to turning it inward. I tend to reach for the external validation of my husband, or my best friend before I'll validate my own feelings and work through them. I'm working on that. 

This helps. I'm sure I still have a few more late nights ahead of me, a few more glasses of wine, a few more reminders to myself that being in this space is ok for a bit. It's ok to mourn. Keep walking. One step and then another, because every time a big change happens, it works out that the destination is beautiful. 

Mountains of New Mexico

At the end of July, Mike, our 4 littles, and I drove down to Santa Fe, NM to meet up with our family for a camping trip. The kiddos were champs on the road, as usual and we made it there easily.  Driving through the mountains is one of my favorite things to do. I look forward to every twist and turn. The Rockies look different than the mountains we drove through in Santa Fe, but both are stunning.

Mike's parents took him and his sister, Steph,  camping when they were kiddos, so Mike knew the area. I've only been to Santa Fe once, a few years ago to ski, so it was a whole new world to me. Our nephew, Jordan, drove up with his mama and Nana and Grandad a day before we could make it. He was so excited to show his cousins all the things he'd been discovering.

The cousins loved looking in this old trunk. There were chipmunks living beneath the roots. The kids would leave pieces of apple or trailmix out to see if they could entice those little guys to come out. At some point during the trip, a chipmunk was brave enough to scurry very near my sister-in-law's chair- with her in it.

Grandad brought some fishing poles and a tackle box from Texas. I love fishing and haven't had the opportunity to cast out a line in years, so I was so happy to grab a pole and head down to the pond. There were fish jumping all over the place, but they were pretty good at just grabbing bait off our hooks and swimming away. Aubrie seemed to have the most patience with it. She was adorable casting out her line and then waiting for a tug while reading her book.

Aubrie would pick out a spot and settle in comfortably, sometimes looking at the beautiful green mountains surrounding us, sometimes watching the fish jump, and other times, she'd pick up her book.

Levi really liked the idea of throwing something out into the water but, understandably, his attention span, and enthusiasm weren't the best fit for fishing at this point. Mostly he ran around the pond finding rocks to throw in, or a little stream to splash in. He is pretty attentive when his Grandad is talking to him, and Mike and I loved watching Grandad show Levi how to fish.

How wonderful are those roots? The views were breathtaking. This gorgeous pond had a little trail around it that the kids pounded even flatter chasing each other.

They would jump into the tall grass on the outside of the trail and wait for Levi to come near and, BOO! Makes me smile just thinking about their squeals of laughter!

Look at those cousins! Does it get better? The still water, the gorgeous clouds rolling in, the tall trees, the stream just out of view. 

Our Little Tank had so much fun once he warmed up to being in such a new place. Getting used to all the new sounds, noises, and creatures took some time for him. I was so glad when he started playing a little more independently because I knew he'd love exploring. Haha! He got a little carried away at one point and I couldn't resist snapping a few pictures of him in timeout. That face just melts me!

Later on he helped the big kids on their worm hunt. We ran into a fishing guide that was very helpful. He recommended we use worms and try a couple of different spots. His advice was on point! The pictures I took of Jace catching a few are still on my phone. I can't wait to get them up here. There's a great little story to go along with them.

Here is the view from our campsite towards the road. You can see our restroom facilities on the left. I was expecting far more primitive conditions. This little building was a huge and welcome surprise! Haha! One of my funniest memories from the trip happened here. I'd forgotten completely the very cold blast of air that greets you as you sit down. I yelped, "WHOA!" and immediately heard my father-in-law burst out laughing. Mike and his mom were around the corner and joined in as well. Oh. My. Gosh. I'm cracking up just thinking about it!

There are many great memories of this trip floating around my head. Hiking with Mike, Steph, and the kids. Laughing as the altitude got the best of us. Driving into Santa Fe for more pants (mama didn't pack enough!), and to find a laundromat to dry the rain-soaked Tula. The really, really great camp food that Grandad cooked for us. Laughing until tears were rolling down almost all of our faces. I don't even remember what about. The whole thing- it was worth every minor annoyance.

We really had a special time. Without the distractions we usually have around, we got the chance to take time and just BE with each other. I'm so grateful for the memories we made together in those beautiful mountains.

Balance

Balance. Juggling. Teetering on the edge of 'having it all together' and 'watching it all fall apart'. There is no recipe. I think what I mean is being able to let go of unrealistic expectations that I’ve put on myself in exchange for a reality that is less than perfect, and more filled with grace. 

I was wrapped up in what others may think of me for a long time. I felt like I was in this awful place like limbo. Stuck. Where did I fit? I didn’t. I looked around and saw no one that I could relate to. I am an emotional, relational being by nature. I tend to navigate life through words and feelings. Like echolocation. I bounce off of the words and experience of others and sort out what feels right and truthful to me and let more of that into my world. It’s much easier to put into words now. Back then I just felt out of control. 

When we started our family there was no one I knew in the same situation as me. With no point of reference to anchor me, I fell to extremes. I took what I thought being a mom, wife, college-ager looked like and tried to manifest those perceptions. It was overwhelming. A foundation set up for failure. 

Part of the healing process (and a big part of our lives from then on) has been intentionally having conversations with Mike about what is important to us. These conversations become a compass of sorts, one that keeps us on track and moving towards the family we want to be. 

For our family what this looks like (ever evolving!) may be abandoning the chores for the evening and foregoing a cooked dinner in lieu of hurriedly packed picnic food and a long bike ride to the lake. It may mean that we opt out of a get-together with friends for a family hike in the mountains. Or that we kiss bedtimes goodbye and have a movie night. It may mean that after a particularly stressful day, Mike takes the kids to the library so I can decompress by watching tv and taking a long shower (without kids in the bathroom with me! Win!) Balance may mean being intentional about carving out time to reconnect, because even living in the same house, there are times where Mike and I seem to be on clouds that float by each other, co-existing but not really interacting.

As I write this, there is a big boy reading upstairs, girls doing math on either side of me, a baby driving a train on the floor next to my chair, and Thomas and Friends on the tube. And we’re all in our pjs at 11:30 am. We aren’t living in a magazine. It’s far from the picture of perfection that had a hold on me so many years ago, but it’s our perfect. It fits. And every day we get to live this crazy life, I am amazed and grateful.

Father's Day 2015

June 21^st was epic. We celebrated our favorite guy by giving him more of us. More time. More laughter. More words.

The morning was lazy and slow. Lots of cuddles, some impromptu dancing. We took off late morning. He knew nothing (though I bet he suspected much, I’ve never been good at keeping things from him!) and climbed into the passenger seat with only a little grumbling. My guy is used to being in the know. He likes knowing what to expect. His trust was a gift to me on his day. 

After picking up some lunch, we found a nearby park and picnicked there. The kids went around the table (save Levi) and told Daddy the many things they appreciate about him. Safe to say- this man is loved endlessly. They love his strong arms, the way he cooks bacon. They love how happy he is when he gets home and appreciate how unhappy in makes him to leave. They love that he tickles them until they almost lose it, his smile, his humor. Him.

Before we pulled away from the park Mike got blind-folded with one of their jackets and we headed over to his BIG surprise- Indoor Skydiving! I think the kids and I were as excited as he was. I wondered how the kids would react to the news that he could only pick one of them to fly with him. My girls made me so proud. Mike decided that Jace would be the one. Without skipping a beat, the girls started cheering and congratulating him. They told him how happy they were for him. Made. My. Day.

Jace flew first. I could see him going over the information the instructor gave him. Hold your arms this way, hands that way, head up. He’s so intense sometimes. Like his Daddy. Jace flew well. It was obvious that he paid attention! Mike hopped in next. Ha! If you could have heard the squeals coming from our girls and Levi! They had all the people around us smiling. It all seemed so appropriate. He is our superman in so many ways. Of course he should fly.

I’m so thankful for this man who knows that, love? It’s a verb. He loves them, loves us with a million actions and intentional choices every single day. From the choice to rise before the sun and be at work at 7am so that he can be home early enough to spend the maximum amount of time with us before our littles hit the sack, to dancing in the kitchen with their mama and kissing her at red lights. He shows them his love for them every time he walks in the door after a long day and a tedious commute and lets them attack him with hugs and kisses. He doesn’t hold our babies at arm’s length, instead he melts into them, genuinely happy to be with his favorite people. He makes choices with the end in mind, with our best interests front and center. One day, they’ll understand how incredibly blessed they are that he is theirs. 

As for me, I look at him and still see my teenage sweetheart. I’ll fall for him every season of our life.

When Opposites Attract

Mike:

In the beginning of our marriage, we didn’t just have the typical newlywed problems.  Such annoyances as where I dropped my dirty clothes, if I pitched in with dishes, or how many date nights we got were the least of our concerns. I’m not saying that the other, more mundane things were not important, but we were focused on bigger things first- like newborn sleep patterns, paying bills (and have money left over for food, formula, and diapers!), balancing school/work/marriage/parenthood, and our own immaturity. One hang-up that really got us was handling disagreements.  

What do we do when we’re coming from completely opposite sides of a problem and we’re both certain that our way is THE way? Being married to a creature that is so different than me was incredibly stressful.  We’d grown up with completely different home-lives, and we were set in how we grew up.

Us at 17

Mandy:

For Mike what this meant was that he didn’t fight. As we were talking about the things we wanted to include in this blog post I asked him for about the 12,536th time, “You really don’t remember your parents ever fighting? Yelling? Really….. nothing?!” He doesn’t. If his parents had any disagreements he sure doesn’t remember it. It’s baffling to me. Utterly unfathomable.

My head holds different memories. Like I said before, I was privy to a marriage that was an unhealthy cycle. That cycle was like Old Faithful. You knew it would blow, in this case though you didn’t know when. I learned to gage emotions, body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice carefully and accurately.  Around 12 I learned to be the calm in the storm with my parents. Admittedly, my immaturity allowed me to take some pride in my self-control and pleasure in the fact that the calmer I was the more it would tick them off. I was a teenager and fed up.

Once on a mission trip in high school I woke up earlier than I needed to and wandered into the mission’s kitchen. Mike’s mom (his mom went on mission trips with him!) was already up and working with the other ladies to get breakfast ready and she let me lay down in her bed since it was empty and the room was quiet. There was a quilt was on the bed. The cracked door let enough light in for me to see that it was handmade. I curled up and stayed awake wondering what it would be like to have someone make me a quilt. It sounds like such a little thing now that I’m typing it, it was just a quilt. It was moments like these, just going about a normal day that would sometimes grip me because of the contrast. Mike’s parents love him so. When he was home for the weekends from TAMS they would enforce a curfew. I remember him dropping me off so he wouldn’t be too late and instead of being annoyed, I was envious. He respected and loved them enough that even at 17, living away from home during the week, and having his own car, he obeyed. And they loved him enough to make sure he did. My parents didn’t know when I got home.

Our starkly different upbringings combined with our immaturity and the suddenness of the situation made that first little bit very challenging. I knew how to be calm in the chaos, but with Mike there was no yelling, no chaos…so I became it. And he shut down. It wasn’t working.

New Year's Eve 2014

Mike:

Like Mandy said, we figured out pretty quickly that the way we were ‘working through’ things wasn’t actually working.  We read in some of our books on marriage that a good strategy to stop arguments before they begin is to talk through difficult subjects before they become a problem. We started doing that.

Approaching a volatile subject on a good day, when everything is ok and we are both feeling loved and secure is vital to our marriage. We are able to calmly work through things rather than try to touch on that same subject on a day we are both feeling frazzled or unappreciated.

Another strategy that has become our normal (even concerning friends and family) is holding at the forefront of our minds the belief that your spouse (family member, friend) has your best interest at heart. I try to approach any sort of disagreement with the mindset that Amanda may have a different idea, belief, or opinion, but not that she’s necessarily attacking me.  Because we have the same mindset, we were able to more openly discuss things without walls up.  That about-face of our normal thinking was hard at first, but we found that the walls it brings down in our own minds is worth the preparation to get there.

Pregnant with our fourth little love. (Credit: Becky Roberson Photography)

Our marriage is not a competition.  I’m not in the relationship to browbeat, dominate, or otherwise rule over my wife.  I’m married to Amanda to make her happy in the best ways I can, and one of them is to decide to approach her, especially when I may think she’s defensive or wrong on something, with an open, trusting, and loving heart. This approach makes both of us vulnerable to the point that we’ve hurt the other from time to time, but more often we’ve come to a deeper, closer understanding of each other and our relationship. 

Amanda:

Ultimately we really had to go beneath the surface and figure out the ‘whys’. Why would he shut down? Why would I turn into someone I couldn’t stand? Why would he get defensive? Why would I run away? Why, why, why? What it came down to is that if we focused first on figuring out the whys then it was easier to switch our viewpoint.

We went from attacking or being attacked to coming to a point where we were vulnerable enough to deal with the issues that were the real problems rather than just our reactions, or symptoms of the problems. When Mike tells me what he struggling with and lets me inside his bubble, rather than feeling what I had been 10 minutes before, I feel compassion and gratitude that he shared with me. Also, when I let my guard down and trust him with my fears and worries, he feels needed and wants to make things better for me. It took us a while to turn this new approach to disagreements into a habit. We still fall into the trap of being guarded and selfish sometimes, but with far less frequency.