Am I There Yet?

As I sat on the couch this afternoon, untangling two balls of yarn and sitting next to my newest little peanut, two thoughts ran through my mind.  One was, “I am thankful the balls of yarn are rug yarn and not some fine yarn”—it was probably the easiest untangling job I’ve had in a while.  The other was, “Will I ever feel like I’m a competent parent?”

Let me back up.  This past Sunday I realized that October starts very soon.  That means I am back to “normal:”  teaching piano lessons one day a week, providing snacks at church once in a while, and playing organ for church.  When I told people I would be back in October, I was basing my decision on how I felt after the birth of our first two children.  And, physically, I feel the same now as I did then—ready to go.  But mentally, I feel quite disorganized.  I’m working on getting my youngest on a schedule, potty training my middle child, and taking my oldest to preschool three days a week.  I’m sure many of you reading this are laughing at me—you’ve gone through the same thing, and maybe even more so because you have five or seven children instead of only three.

Then, Monday came, and my new little peanut started acting out of sorts.  He’s three weeks old now, and almost 11 pounds, so I figured he was experiencing a little colic.  But that night he started sounding stuffy and having a hard time breathing.  In fact, we ended up calling 911 at 1:00 in the morning, and getting a ride to the ER in the back of an ambulance.  Of course, by the time the EMTs arrived at our house, peanut had settled down, was breathing normally, and fell asleep in the ambulance.  The ER doctor and nurses assured me that I did the right thing, but I couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed.  I mean, this is my THIIRD child, and I know they get sick and I know how to handle these things, right?

Tuesday morning meant a follow-up visit to the doctors’ office, where once again I was assured I had done the right thing in taking my son to the ER.  In fact, the doctor told me that if my son’s cough didn’t improve over night, I was to bring him back.  But, it seemed to my husband and me that he was getting better.

That was until about 3:00 this afternoon.  As my new baby lay on the floor, he kept spitting up and sneezing (much to the amusement of his two older siblings).  I was debating calling the doctor, when I realized that it was too late to get an appointment anyway.  I settled for holding my baby in a more upright position (duh!).  Of course, that was before my two oldest discovered the balls of rug yarn.

And so, as I sat thinking of the last few days, I felt less and less competent as a parent, which is right where God wanted me.  I realized that over the past few days, I’ve been spending more time in His word and more time in prayer.  I know I’ve said this before, but I can’t do this on my own.  God is the one who is with me, helping me in ways I can’t even imagine when I’m praying.

Of course, things don’t always go perfectly.  In my hurry to make supper tonight, I mixed things up and made and inedible Johnny Cake.  (My kids were excited to get to have Little Caesars for dinner!)  But, as I sit here writing, my kids (all three) are sleeping peacefully in their beds.  I may not be a competent parent yet, but I’m hoping to get there someday.  Meanwhile, I can rest assured knowing God is good and he is in control.

Our New Normal

This week was “Welcome to the new normal” at our house.  My three-year-old started preschool, turned four, and had his first sleep over.  We survived our first three-kid doctor visit.  (Don’t worry, it was a well check.)  We dropped off and picked up my husband from work.  And we went grocery shopping.  In the many conversations I’ve had with other mothers, many have said how surprised they are that I am out of the house at all, let alone running around doing various activities.  My response has been, “Life keeps going.  I just have to keep doing what needs to be done.”

However, as I’ve been sitting here this evening, I’ve realized that my response has been fairly hollow.  The truth is I have nothing to do with the relative smooth transition we’ve made as a family to our new normal.  It really started last Friday.  As I was going over my calendar, I realized I had a lot that I would need to be able to do.  And I was NOT feeling anywhere near capable or well enough to handle it all.  But, a hymn popped into my mind.  The words are:  With the Lord begin your task, Jesus will direct it.  For his aid and counsel ask, Jesus will perfect it.  Every morn with Jesus rise, and when day is ended, in His name then close your eyes, be to him commended.  And so I prayed something like, “God, please help my body to recover and help me to be able to do all the things I need to do.”

And God answered my prayer with a resounding “Here you go!”  He not only provided me with the strength and energy to do all the things that need to be done, he has provided me with people to help when I need it (and even if I think I don’t).

My Mom worked tirelessly while she was here, cooking, cleaning, playing with the big kids, all so I could sit and heal.  My Dad loaded and unloaded the van and drove us to doctor appointments, carrying the baby in his car seat and putting up with the funny looks from people who assumed he was the baby’s Daddy, not his Grandpa.  My Grace family has stepped in, bringing us unexpected dinners and offering to babysit and just help out with whatever is needed.

And, most of all, God has given me a wonderful help-mate.  My husband has come home in the evening ready to make dinner, play with kids, clean up after dinner, bathe the kids, and listen to any concerns or complaints I’ve had.  He’s gotten up with me to change diapers and put big kids back to bed.  Tonight, he even put up with my crazy impromptu cleaning frenzy, even though he had work of his own to get done.

Our new normal has nothing to do with me.  God is using the many wonderful people in my life to help me out.  My prayer now is two-fold.  I pray that I can share what a blessing these people are with those around me.  And I pray that I can be such a helpful blessing in turn to the people in my life who need my help.

Perspective

I fit into my fat jeans!!!  (That is an exclamation of excitement, not exasperation.)  One week after coming home with a beautiful new baby, I dug out my “normal” jeans.  After much hesitation (I tried putting on “normal” dress pants on Sunday, only to be still too big), I took out my “fat jeans,” slid one leg in at a time, pulled them up to my squishy belly, and, more easily than I expected, buttoned and zipped them.  And then I did a little happy dance.  Not too many people would be excited to put on “fat jeans,” but a new mom eager to get out of maternity clothes is one.

As I finished dressing and switching a few maternity clothes out for a few more “normal” choices, I was tempted to bemoan my meager wardrobe.  My husband has twice as many clothes as do I (not at all kidding), and my selection right now is worn, stained, too big or too small.  But then I realized how spoiled I really am.  Not only do I have multiple outfits to choose from, I have multiple outfits in multiple sizes.  The multiple sizes indicate that I have been blessed with plenty of food to eat.  I have a wonderful, comfortable home to live in, with a big, soft bed to sleep in every night.  And that’s just part of the “things and stuff.”  I have a God-fearing, hard-working husband.  I have three precious children of God.  And I have the confidence of an eternal home when I die.

I think we are sometimes brainwashed into seeing the glass as half-empty.  I challenge you to go beyond seeing the glass as half-full and see your cup running over.  God not only showers us with blessings, he pours them out on us bucket after bucket.  Consider James 1:2-17 as think of all the blessings you have.

Surprise!

My husband and I had a wonderful surprise last week.  The surprise wasn’t the birth of our third child.  My constantly growing belly and numerous doctor visits helped us prepare for that.  It wasn’t that we have a wonderful second son to count among our blessings.  We had found out his gender in an ultrasound about 4 months ago.  It was that he was so big—almost 10 pounds.  Even my doctor and nurses were surprised when they put him on the scale.

It reminds me of Jesus’ second coming.  We know that he is coming again.  He tells us numerous times throughout the New Testament.  We see the signs he promised being fulfilled, too; wars, rumors of wars, natural disasters, all these point to our Savior’s hastening return.  But, the day will still be a surprise.

But, what can I do while I wait?  My husband and I took many walks with our older two the weekend before number three was born.  We cleaned the house and made sure the car seat was in the van.  We set up the basinet and talked to our children about mama being gone for a few days.

As I wait for Jesus, I can continue studying His word, praying that the Holy Spirit strengthens my faith as I read.  I can teach my children about Jesus and pray that the Holy Spirit continues to work in their hearts.  And, I can follow Jesus’ command to tell others about Him and help them prepare for His second coming, too.

When we told our kids that I would be gone for a few days, my daughter started saying to me at bedtime every night, “Don’t leave, Mama.”  In fact, she is still saying that to me now.  I try to console her, letting her know I am here, just in a different room.  But she still is afraid of being alone. 

Jesus knew that we would have a similar fear of being left alone.  When He sent us out to share His word, he sent us with a promise.  He promised to be with us always.  And he is.

I have been blessed with a wonderful surprise.  I pray that God continues to help me prepare for the surprise of a lifetime.

Impatiently Waiting

My husband and I are anxiously waiting the birth of our third child.  Our first was born 10 days early, our second two weeks early.  Now, at 8 days before my due date, this is the most pregnant I’ve ever been.  We truly expected to be holding our new son in our arms already.  We’ve been to the hospital twice this week with false alarms.  (That really makes me crazy, because this is my THIRD child, and I should know better.  I don’t like being one of those moms.)  We’ve been walking almost every day.  One day, I even took two hour-long walks without my husband, meaning I had to push the double stroller with our two older kids.  And still, no baby.

Not that it isn’t worth the wait.  I know that God’s timing is perfect.  When I hold my new son in my arms for the first time, I know that I will forget the past three weeks of bed rest and impatient waiting.  I know that he will be another tiny miracle for our family to love.

As I sat in church this morning, thinking over all these things, I was reminded of our impatient wait for Jesus’ second coming.  I am often discouraged by the sin-filled world we live in.  I am disheartened by impatient, rude behavior.  I am distressed when I see news stories filled with death and devastation.  And I am dismayed by my own inability to consistently avoid Satan’s temptations.  I long for Jesus to return, to take me and all my fellow believers to be with him in perfect peace.

But, God has a plan.  His timing is perfect.  He wants me here to share his message of sin and forgiveness with the world around me.  He wants me on this earth to teach my children about him so they may feast with me at his heavenly banquet.  He has a plan.

Just like waiting for my son, waiting for The Son is worth it.  When he comes again, he will take me to my heavenly home.  I can’t wait!