Kids Are Resilient

I hate the phrase "kids are resilient"  It's just a saying grown ups say to make themselves feel better when they have to make a tough decision.

I survived my childhood, you survived your childhood, but is that what we want for our children?  For them to just survive?

"Kids are resilient."  Tell that to a woman who was sexually abused and if that didn't affect her as an adult.  Say that phrase to someone who lost their mom when they were little.  Or to a man who was beaten or tortured by his father to the point of disfiguring.  Were they like you? Did they just bounce back?  Did they survive?  Were they resilient?  Or did they hurt?  Were their invisible scars carried into adulthood? Or perhaps they had some "issues."

How many of us can remember even the simplest of bullying in middle or high school.  I can.  How many of us cringe at the names we were called?  I do.  My freshman year was miserable. How many of us pray that our children have a better childhood than we had? Hope we are better parents...even if we had great parents... we hope we are better role models, make less mistakes?  I do.

Obviously sexual abuse, death and torture are extreme cases, but we all have baggage that we carry from our childhood and teenage years as we enter our adult years.  Nearly everyone I talk to has significant changes that they can remember that hurt them deeply.  Some had changed them.  Some for the better, some for the worst.

When I was on staff, I remember an old man that was still bitter by his father who had beat him as a child.  He refused to forgive him.  I still remember his scowl and demeaner. The man's father had passed away more than twenty years ago.

According to livestrong.com how you develop emotionally, intellectiually and socially in your early years can affect your entire life.  Good or bad.

My point is:  I hate that phrase.  My family is in the middle of a big change.  I worry about how it's going to affect the kids. Someone used that phrase and I said, "really what does that mean?" It's like a pat answer when someone dies and says, "they're in a better place"...well, we want them here.  "Kids are resilient," no, they're not.  They hurt, they scar, they resent.... and they always wind up on the couch someday blaming the mother. *grin*

I dedicated my children when they were babies and gave them to the Lord.  Symbolically like Hannah who gave Samuel to the priest....for the first 5 years of his life.  She gave him away.  I can't imagine.  Yet I symbolically did the same thing; giving my children to the Lord, for life.  However, I want to put them in a bubble and let nothing of this world harm them.  Nikki had a different upbringing in her beginning years.  Now, she's added to that bubble.  Now and again, I release them into man kind...then I snatch them back.  It's a constant letting go.  I don't want them hurt.  I don't want them to make the same mistakes I did or Rich did.  Or anyone did.

I refuse to use the phrase "kids are resilient" to make myself feel better over a tough decisions.

Perhaps I'll use it in the context that my kids are resilient because they choose the right path under the obedience of Christ.  They made the right choice because we  have...."trained up a child in the way they should go...."  Proverbs 22:6  And because we adore them.  Truly.  Take for instance, Jacob.  When he was asked who these people were, he said, "The children who God has graciously given his servant." (Gen 33:5) They are my pride.  My joy.  I don't want them to just survive.  Just be resilient. Tough.  Hard.  I want them to be gracious, kind, compassionate...Godlike.

Okay.  I'm stepping off soap box now.

God Doesn't Waste a Hurt

I hadn't thought about her in a long time.  She would be twelve today.  As the days pass and the years stretch, the wounds seem to close and heal.  But in the quiet of the night, my mind tumbles back to those dark days and lonely nights.

I was twenty-two when Micayla was born.  It still amazes me that God had allowed that little miracle to grow inside of me. A little over a year later, another miracle started to grow.  I was twenty-three when Dale burst into our lives.  Micayla, a little princess; Dale all boy.  I came from a big family and wanted my children to experience the joys, laughs, stories and love of the same thing.  Shortly after Dale turned one I found out I was pregnant again.  I was thrilled. My due date? September 3.

Micayla looked just like me: fair skinned, blonde tuffs, big blue eyes.  Dale looked like a miniature Rich; tanned skin, dark eyes, same cowlicks.  Crazy.  I dreamt how this one would look like.  Would it favor me or Rich?  Maybe this one would be a blend.

We had told the kids, told our parents and family, pretty much took out ads and billboards announcing that I was expecting again.  It seemed that I had told the last person, when I started to bleed.  My hands went to my throat, tears sprung to my eyes, and my heart sank to my stomach...maybe trying to protect my baby.

I went to the doctor's and sure enough, he confirmed my worst fears.  I was miscarrying.  I was only nine weeks along, but she was mine.  She was a part of me.

As he was talking, I was quietly crying.  He was saying that I could have a d&c or let the tissue pass on it's own.  I said, "tissue?"

He stuttered,"uh, uh, the baby."

I looked at him and said, "baby."

He told me, "Well, I think from this point on, it will be easier to look at this as just a piece of tissue and not a baby."

I lifted my chin, tears and snot all over the place, looked him right in the eyes and said, "baby."

He nervously looked at his chart and said, "So, Mrs. LaCount, what would you like to do?  Would you like to have a d&c procedure or would you like to pass the, uh, baby naturally."

I asked him how long it would take and he said that there was no way of knowing.

I went home and waited.  Cried a lot. And waited.  I waited for two weeks.  Oh it was so hard!  I was so happy when I was pregnant with Micayla and Dale! I planned the nursery, bought clothes, picked out names, plotted their future and prayed.  I prayed on this one... but it was more heart wrenching prayers.  "Why?  How did this happen?  Was it my fault?  Why would you do this to me?  Help me through this...."

It was two weeks after my initial visit with the Dr. when I called the nurse and complained about some symptoms I was having.  She said, "you need to come in right away!  I think you're hemorrhaging."  Awesome.

So I drove there.  With Micayla and Dale in tow.  Haha, I wasn't that smart.  I was delirious.  Rich was at work, I didn't know what to do.

I sat Micayla and Dale on a little bench while I laid on the table.  I tried talking to them and told them stories.  But I just frightened them more when I broke out in sobs.  So I just held out my hand for them to hold.

Having the baby die, carrying it around in me for two weeks and now losing so much blood was causing me to lose my mind.  Or so it felt.  The Dr. came in and performed a little procedure.  The placenta was caught in my cervix...that was what was causing me to hemorrhage.

I couldn't stop crying.  It seems like I had cried oceans of tears...just when I felt like I couldn't cry any more, another wave passed over me.  It was awful.  I sunk into a deep depression.

I know people meant well, but sometimes I really wanted to smack them.  I didn't want to hear, "well at least you didn't go until full term and lose the baby then." or "There must have been something wrong with the baby." or "This is just God's will." or "At least you have two others."  Well, yes I do, and I'm really thankful for them, but I wanted that one too!

Being sincere and saying "I'm so sorry" and giving a hug says a lot!  Chocolate says wonders too.  All the other stuff can be chucked.

The thing is, I know that God didn't do that to me.  And it's ok to get frustrated when I don't understand.  When I don't see His will in it all.  It's ok to ask God why.  He has big shoulders, He can take it.  It's ok for me to be sad... it gives God the opportunity to allow us to lean on his big shoulders and be comforted.  He likes it.  We're His babies after all.

We may never understand why we go through trials.  I don't understand miscarriages at all.  I don't know why a woman gets pregnant, gets excited, only to have it taken away.  A year after this miscarriage, I lost another baby.  However, in 2003, a shiny, bouncing, bubbling Abrieanna came into our lives.  If I had the other two babies, would I have had her?  One may never know.  I can't imagine my life without her.

All I know is:  God doesn't waste a hurt.  Genesis 50...what you meant for evil God meant for good.  God will take any situation and turn it into a positive.  And I'm so thankful that "...God, shield me on all sides: You ground my feet, you lift my head high." (Ps 3:3)

He has allowed me to minister to other women who have suffered through miscarriages.  Of all the things I've done, of all the things I am, I am the most proud of being a mom.  There is something about a baby that makes the whole world disappear.  There's something about the way a child tilts her head, flashes a smile that can capture your heart all over again.  It amazes me how a tiny baby can smile at your words, and your heart just beams back and it seems to that he is the brightest baby that God ever created.  There is something about a child and the way they look at you, the way they look at a flower or a dandelion puff...the innocence in their wonder...that makes you feel so close to the Lord.  So close to His presence, and so thankful for having been a part of His creation.

Even though I know the joy of motherhood, I also know the pain and disappointment of having that stripped away.   But God doesn't waste pain.  If we don't experience pain, we'd never know what healing feels like.  If we've never been imprisoned, we'd never know what it truly feels like to be free.  If we've never been abandoned, it's hard to know what it feels like to be reunited.  God doesn't waste a hurt.

He won't waste yours.  "What you meant for evil, God meant for good."  Gen. 50:20

(My little bundles of blessings)

Encourage

I was watching television the other day and a commercial came on that made me tear up.  I know, I know you're shocked.  It was so touching.

It made me reflect on all the times I have told my kids no when maybe I should have encouraged them more.  Or when I have shrunk in my seat in embarrassment when I should have stood up for a child.  Or when I have scowled at or judged another child or parent for being out of line instead of compassionate.

Here, take a look and see for yourself:



The message is obvious.  Encourage your children.  Or encourage children in general in the talents that God has given them.  Or to not want the floor to swallow you up when your child makes a mistake because you're worried about what people will think.  After all, aren't we an advocate for them?

But there was another thing that gnawed at me as I watched that video.  It was so easy for that little boy to trust the maestro.  He simply glanced up at the master, smiled and kept playing.  He didn't worry that his song was too simple, his playing too inadequate, his timing too slow, his level of playing too small... he just trusted that he was enough with him.

There's a reason that the Jesus says that we need to come to Him as little children.  They are so innocent and pure.  So confident in Him. As adults, we have all this junk in our lives.  All these insecurities, baggage, frustrations, mistrust, anxiety....

I found myself looking at that little boy and wishing that I had that blind faith.  Faith to sit at the piano and let the Father put his arms around me and sweep across the keys of my life and make a beautiful sonata out of it.  Not worrying that my pay check is too simple, my mothering inadequate, my timing with Him  off and my offering too small.  I just want to trust that I am enough... with Him.

"Jesus called over a child, whom he stood in the middle of the room, and said, 'I'm telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you're not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in.  Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God's kingdom.  What's more, when you receive the childlike on my account, it's the same as receiving me.'" (Matthew 18:2-5)

Lord, let me be like that little boy and have faith to trust you completely. Grace over my marriage, my children, my work, my finances, my everything.  I'm yours.  Love, your kid.