Choosing Your Word

A homeschooling friend who, like me, parents two special-needs children, writes:

"My mother has had rheumatoid arthritis for 25 years. I'm slowly going down that road but I'm fighting it with everything I've got. My brother has already been diagnosed."

How I live that sentence..."I'm fighting it with everything I've got."

I have a strong family history of anxiety disorders--mainly Generalized Anxiety Disorder, which my Peter has. My brother, several cousins, and my mother, have related driving phobias. They must take an anti-anxiety medicine to use freeways. My maternal grandfather had agoraphobia and quit working well before retirement age.

At least five times in the last ten years, I've come close to needing an anti-anxiety med myself. Each time, I fought the pull of my genes. Not me. Over my dead body...it isn't going to happen to me.

In early December we went to a hospital building for Beth's eye appointment. Upon our entry a piercing fire alarm begin, continuing to terrorize the occupants for twenty minutes! Someone told us it was a test, but the longer it went the more anxious my Mary felt. She cried and even when it stopped, she couldn't calm down right away. Following that by a couple weeks, we were exiting the library and the door alarm sounded. We went back to the front desk but the librarian waved us on, telling us we were fine--the alarm's just being silly, she said.

Those two incidents were catalysts, apparently, for latent anxiety in my Mary. I had seen definite signs for a few months, but now it seems inevitable--unless, like me, she's up for the fight. If it persists beyond age 7, she could go the way of the family genes.

My Peter had a similar catalyst at age 3.5, when we were at a fire safety fair and unwittingly participated in a mock fire alarm set up in a portable building. It traumatized him and became the catalyst that awakened latent anxiety, which persists today.

Lately there have been times I could have curled up in a ball and just cried and cried. Beth's condition plays with my emotions--good one day, bad another day, good for five days, bad for three. It cruelly bounces me between hope and despair, even though I see signs of God's plan in her life, and in her condition.

She needs me. I'm nearly always there for her, remembering how scary and awful chronic pain must be to a three-year-old child. However, as I've spent more and more time with her, I've continued to try to do all the other things I used to do, including writing on this blog. My dear husband reminded me recently, "Your life isn't like that of most moms. You aren't required to do what they do."

He wasn't putting me down in saying this. Rather, he reminded me that mothering two special-needs children means my life must look different. Less is more.

I read recently that mothers who stay at home full-time report more depression and health problems than mothers who work part-time. Part-time work is healthier, if one believes the article, than full-time motherhood or full-time working. It didn't cite this, but I suspect chore monotony is the greatest contributer to depression. Doing the same chores over and over, and reminding our children of the same things over and over, lends a perceived pointlessness to our daily existence. Faithfully and steadfastly serving a family is not pointless to God, of course. The pointlessness is only a perception of the moment. Most of us fully understand the importance--and eternal rewards--of our home endeavors.

My blog and the online friendships I've enjoyed are that healthy "part-time" dimension in my life, though they take up fewer hours than a traditional part-time job, thankfully. They keep me engaged intellectually, the same as reading does. Intellectual engagement is pretty important, it seems, to balance those ten thousand sweepings of the floor, and the ten thousand pick-ups of a husband's socks.


God designed our minds. We needn't feel guilty about needing something more, as long as it remains secondary to our primary endeavors--loving our Father through worship, Bible reading, and prayer time; nurturing and discipling our children; encouraging and respecting our husbands.

You've heard of choosing a word of the year? Ann has done it for the few years I've read her blog. In order to continue to fight anxiety, my word of the year must be balance. Yes, I need to write. I need my online friendships. What balance will look like isn't quite clear yet. But God knows. I needn't try to figure it out on my own.

As you wrap up your year, think of your own life. What word is the Holy Spirit whispering?

photo credit

Merry Christmas 2011

Merry Christmas from our family to yours!

Don't ask me about the colors. I let them choose. :)

Blessings on Friday

No one has time for blogs this week and I wouldn't bother writing today, except that I need this thanks-giving discipline. I caught the girls' cold and while it was mild for them, it doesn't feel mild for me because Beth still isn't sleeping well. Too little sleep makes it harder for Mom to heal. If you have a baby right now, you know what I mean.

I bought a decongestant yesterday and maybe that will help my head? Have you noticed they treat certain decongestants like a semi-controlled substance, meaning you have to provide your driver's license and sign for it? Every time I need one I feel like a criminal. I always wonder if they'll say..."Sorry, you just bought one six months ago. We can't sell it to you this soon...you know, because of that meth lab you've got at home."

Thankfully, and this is the first blessing on my list, we haven't been sick since last April, and before that it was November 2010, so God has been kind to me as a mother these many months. In the past it seemed we couldn't go six weeks without another cold virus.

My everyday blessings:

~ Each child got a haircut today, thanks to a $50 bill my other aunt--on my mom's side--tucked into a Christmas card. These kids sported scruffy hair before today. The girls had never had a haircut at all, other than my own lame attempts. I only wish I hadn't asked them to texturize Mary's bangs. It doesn't look attractive, but they will grow out within a few weeks, I'm sure. At least the girls bangs are now straight.

When I opened the Christmas card and the money fell out, Peter was excited but I felt like crying. When you badly need any money people send, it makes you feel like crying, more from shame than anything else. Peter asked about the tears in my eyes. It's hard to receive sometimes, I told him. "Really? I don't think so." He receives gifts like a grateful, excited child. I receive them reluctantly, wishing I could be the giver instead. As much as the Lord works on me, I'm not sure that ugly pride will ever go away. Will I ever receive a gift like a child again, other than from my own husband?

~ Children using construction paper, paper bags, tape, glue, yarn, toilet paper rolls, and scissors to make gifts for each other.

~ I only need two kinds of potatoes, green beans, cranberries, and apple cider for our Christmas celebration. I'm thankful that's all I need.

~ Laundry caught up, folded, and put away.

~ Four kids who delight in new schemes and games. Lately they've been playing bandit and sheriff, running through the house with their teddy bears in hand, pretending to capture the one who stole the cattle or the horses or the sheep's wool. Each one gets a turn to play the bandit. Oh, the giggles! (Oh, the noise!)

~ A husband who loves the Lord and faithfully disciples his children through the Word.

~ Letters from Compassion kids.

~ A rare five minutes of quiet to drink a cup of cocoa.

~ Husband is off all day Monday.

~ A warm home in December. (Still no snow here. Is the earth turning correctly?)

~ A nearly ten-year-old who delights in time with Daddy. His Daddy is now the most important person in his life. This is how it should be as he slowly becomes a man. A mom must get out of the way in these years.

~ Three children who still fit in my arms in the rocker.

~ Your friendship. Yes, you, my reader.

~ A gift from my brother we can use to purchase curriculum we've been trying to do without. Praise God!

That ringing would be the drops bell for Miss Beth's eyes. I'm on a perpetual two-hour clock with these steroid drops.

May you have a blessed Christmas! Love to you all.

Teddy Bear Movie, Scene 1

My children, suddenly very interested in videography, present Scene 1: Teddy Bear Movie.


Being very prideful, I reminded them not to record any messes. At the end, as Paul scans the messy playroom with the camera (in which a large tent was constructed today), Peter reminds him, "Oh no, you're recording dirtiness!"


All day long their messes drive me insane, but these kids sure bless me!

Blessings On Wednesday

Counting my everyday blessings:

~ Four children taking their new teddy bears along to the bank. On the way home they asked, "So teddy, how'd you like the ride? Did the rain scare you? Did you like the windshield wipers?" Yes, even the almost ten-year-old likes his new teddy bear. Earlier today we talked about the world's two most famous teddy bears--Pooh Bear and Paddington Bear--and how entire books were written about their adventures. I think teddy bears are one of the most imagination-sparking toys a child can own. The possibilities are endless. Miss Mary is now making a teddy bear journal.

~ Suddenly, Beth knows all her colors.

~ Peter writing reading lessons for Mary.

~ Beth charming the staff at physical therapy. She cries most of the 30-minute drive home due to fatigue and impending naptime, but while she's there the word charming doesn't even cover it. This can be said of most 3 year olds....charm and stubbornness all wrapped up in one beautifully exhausting package.

~ We checked out a Mary Poppins movie from the library. We hadn't seen it before and normally I don't get a book-based movie until we've read the book, but because of family movie night I made an exception. My two favorite movies are now The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins. There are five Mary Poppins books and we plan to enjoy them all. We're thoroughly charmed. The children have taken favorite phrases from the movie and Mommy has too. "Come along children, spit spot."  "Oh, Bert, you're worse than the children." Oh, the giggles. We all have our favorite scenes. Mine is when they try to get Uncle Albert to stop laughing and come down from the ceiling. The songs are wonderful too. I'm hoping the library has the sound track for check out. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious has been all the rage here, as well as A Spoonful Of Sugar.

My favorite thing about the story is the timeless reminder for parents...treasure your children...lay down your life for them...don't get caught up in your causes and grown-up worlds and let their childhoods pass you by.

I have more...much more to say. But time to make dinner and shuffle the laundry. Have a blessed evening!