The iPhone Influence

This morning I walked into middle school as part of Parent Visitation day.  The school was buzzing with the every day hustle and bustle of kids and classes.  Memories of my own middle school days quickly came back to me.  So much was the same 25 years later and yet so much was different.

Math class was group activities and worksheets.  Boring, rote, "busy work" worksheets.  Kids working with partners, kids working alone, kids trying to stay focused, and kids totally distracted.  Enrichment class was reading aloud a novel and following the book with the movie.  The current book interested some and others could have cared or less.  Where the book couldn't hold the attention of some, those kids were able to absorb the story line through the movie.  Gym class was a battle of the cliques as kids were able to pick a sports station to participate in.  The dominant children manned their stations and the others could follow at will.  French class was a mix of students going through the required motions, students not even bothering to put forth the effort, and students so completely lost they may not have known they were even in French class.

As I mentioned, so much was the same in middle school 25 years later.  Students, classes, bells, intercom, cafeteria, books, lockers, hallways, worksheets, diverse learning, homework, wide range of attention spans, and teachers carrying the education torch to the next generation.

But what blew my mind was the middle school cell phone craze.  I have been informed of this epidemic many times by my children.  And often I have found it would be helpful for my children to have their own cell phone; convenient, but never necessary.  We've remained steadfast in our resolve against entering "the childhood cell phone society" and I am proud to say each of my children have been very respectful of our decision.  (even if a cell phone is on their Christmas wish list for the third year in a row)

Today, I was able to see first hand how influential the cell phone has become in our middle school.  More students have a cell phone than those who do not.  I was so tempted to take a poll in each classroom.  I probably would have been further shocked by the number of students (besides my own) without a cell phone.

I am confident in my brief visit this morning, I was not able to witness the variety of benefits in having your own cell phone.  Students can access Google, calculator, QR Reader, dictionary, and many other tools at their disposal.  I certainly do not want to come across as "anti-technology" or step on any toes.  Parenting is a tough gig; one where I fall and have to get back up many times!  But today, 25 years after my own middle school journey, there was a distracted atmosphere I can only explain by the "iphone influence".

In each class I visited, cell phones were "accidentally" chiming, dinging, whistling, buzzing, vibrating, and causing an underlying distraction for students and teachers.  Class just seemed like something to do when cell phones weren't an option or couldn't be easily hidden.  If there was a lull in classroom activity, cell phones came to the rescue.  When the bell rang, cell phones were the first thing to be checked.  If a student needed to step out of class, the cell phone was immediately slipped into their pocket first.  During gym class, my purse became "safe keeping" for many cell phones so that students could actually participate in gym class without damaging their phones.

The teachers barely blinked at all these cell phone interruptions.  Occasionally a stern look or raised eyebrow was given signaling the cell phone infraction, but class continued as normal.  Normal for this generation.  Distracted with a white noise of technology.  Students and teachers struggling to focus on learning.  When learning didn't capture their attention, students had their cell phone as entertainment back up.

And I can only surmise the amount of drama and relationship strife that goes on during school hours via this cell phone craze.  Bullying, peer pressure, fashion crises, cheating (relational and academic), fitting in, approval, criticism, he-said-she-said, texting wars, the list goes on.  Proverbs 18:21 tells us that words have the power of life or death.  The cell phone holds the same potential.  The "iphone influence" is just as powerful, and is also capable of instant and widespread devastation with the single click of a "send".

So much life happens at the fingertips of students in middle school, and 25 years later, it seems that this is just how middle school rolls.

Firing the Maid

Mama was inspired by this great book!  (My kids, not so much.)  The author challenged me to jump into action so that my children were no longer served in ways that would not serve them well as adults.  I needed to get rid of my guilt of asking my kids to step up their responsibilities, which meant I needed to fire the maid (aka Mama).

The teen and diva have both been doing their own laundry for quite some time, so I'm guessing they thought they were ahead of their friends in the chores dept.  But really, Mama was behind on her game of equipping them.  They have been capable of so much more for awhile now, but I've caved to the excuse that it would take longer to teach them than to just do it myself.

Somewhere inside I was also probably living by a false truth that as a stay-at-home mama I should be taking care of most chores during the school day.  Serving my family was my job.  Yet really,  I was overloading myself and under-loading everyone else.  The maid had to go.

So today our two worlds collided.  A Saturday with nothing on the calendar + a very dirty house =  Operation Cleaning House.  I organized a chore list for each room of the house, assigned age appropriate tasks for the little girls, let the older kids pick their tasks (making sure they both were able to practice each type of cleaning), and then hubby and I filled in the rest while also completing  the heavy duty ones.  Organization is the antidote to chaos.

The day went remarkably well!  The upstairs was finished by lunchtime and the downstairs (minus Willie's heavy duty kitchen tile scrubbing---which is happening as I type) was finished in time for dinner.  There were plenty of sighs, eye-rolling, grunts, and attempts to opt out, but overall it was a success!  The kids learned how cleaning works, Mama learned perfection is overrated, and the end result is that we have a clean house from top to bottom that everyone can take pride in!  And most importantly, the house was not cleaned by the maid, because each person living in our home is more than able to handle it.

Laundry and cleaning may be small steps in gaining ground against being served, but I am so grateful my children are at least learning how capable they are to serve in their home.  Mama is also learning to empower her peeps which in turn empowers her to serve in areas beyond the home (and not go crazy trying to do it all).

It felt so good to fire the maid today!

We discovered more than dust bunnies:
~no logic supports making your bed everyday
~showers need cleaned???
~clean does not equal spotless
~moving couches is quite revealing
~Swiffer and Duster mean different things to different people
~a lot of people make a lot of dirt
~crumbs and dust will never be totally conquered
~we really like having a clean house!
~those who didn't think they needed to "practice", actually need a lot of practice
~praise is a great motivator
~Windex is NOT a streak-free product
~the maid will not be returning

Bare to be Brave

The dreaded middle school gym class.  The first time kids are required to change into and out of gym clothes........with all the other girls.  It can be an anxiety nightmare.  Insecurities bubble to the surface, fears morph into monsters, acceptance by our peers is on the line, assumed judgement awaits, and the playground of our imagination takes us to the scary worst-case-scenarios.

A few months ago Jillian stood at this crossroad with her 6th grade peers.  The girls locker room provided a number of privacy walls and curtains for girls to change behind, but the number of girls outnumbered these areas.  Sort of like the rescue rafts vs Titanic passengers.  Only a handful of girls could be rescued from changing with all the other girls.

The night before Jillian's next gym class, Mama and daughter cuddled up and dove into these fearful waters together.  What if they tease me?  What if I'm the only one?  What if all the private places are taken?  Mama realized the anxiety of trying to find a private changing place every class was going to be far greater than the anxiety of simply being brave and changing in the open space.

So I spoke courage into my girl.  Be brave.  Be the only one.  Bravery is contagious and it won't take long before you're not the only one.  Instead of praying for the Lord to provide a private area for Jillian to change, we prayed for the Lord to help Jillian be brave and confident in who she is.  Beautiful and strong.  Bare your bravery and you just may breathe confidence into another girl struggling too.

Of course, sometimes we also need a practical plan to compliment our bravery.  A quick trip to Target and Jillian was set.  She was now equipped with a large supply of undergarments that would ensure she only needed to change her shirt and shorts every gym class .  Baby steps to baring bravery.

As I prayed for Jillian the next day, I couldn't help but smile.  She was tackling something this Mama rarely has been able to pull off.  Being me, whether its accepted or criticized.  No matter what the outcome, I was so proud of my girl for choosing bravery over fear.

As soon as Jillian climbed into the van after school, I asked how gym class went.  Her face beamed with a smile and she said, "I did it Mom!"  "I was brave and the other girls saw that."  "I was pretty much the only one to change in the open area."  "But it was ok, we all have the same parts, just in different shapes and sizes."

Oh, my sweet child!  If you can hang on to and keep claiming that bravery, you will go far!  There is so much beauty in being the you Jesus designed.......

Blankets of Grace

Jillian and I recently attended a blanket making party for baby girls in China where gendercide threatens their existence.  A powerful need that squeezed my heart the moment I heard.  A cause that we could inexpensively contribute to while also enjoying this craft as mama and daughter.

With the chaos of a 6-passenger family, our time to pick out the necessary fabric for these blankets ended up being a trip with all 6 of us in tow.  Between crankiness, sensory overload, and preschoolers over-active bladders, the errand turned stressful.  My hubby and I tagged team the children, but I was the last one back in the van and carried more than a bag of fabric; I carried the burden of unmet expectations.

My expectations were to simply purchase fabric for 2 blankets, a frugal investment, knowing two baby girls in China would be wrapped in warmth and love in Jesus' Name.  But what ended up happening is that on our trip to the fabric store, Jillian wanted to get fabric for a Paris blanket and Braeden wanted to get fabric for an Air Force blanket.  When it was all said and done I felt heavy with the weight of my own children's selfishness, but even heavier was the weight that I did not say "no" to their requests.

My mind banter ping-ponged between "why do they have to have everything they see?" to "why didn't you just say "no" and stick to your original plan?".  Beating myself up proved useless until it was time to turn all this fabric into blankets.  That's when God covered me in a blanket of grace.

The afternoon making our blankets was very special.  Jillian teetered between perfectionist and free-spirit as she cut, tied, and prayed over her efforts.  The desire to create excellence needed to be balanced with the beauty of imperfect love.  Our blankets weren't perfect, but the heart and hands that made them were pure.

All of my fretting about her selfishness in wanting her own blanket disappeared when I read the beautiful note she wrote to the mama of the baby girl that would receive her blanket.  It was from Jillian's heart and it was something this mama still ponders and treasures.  A little glimpse of what Jesus is doing in the heart of my child.

After arriving home from the blanket making party, Jillian's enthusiasm continued and she wanted to jump right in and begin making her and Braeden's blankets.  Mama was tired and had a trophy size blister on my thumb from fighting dull fabric scissors.  But Jillian's hands wanted to create more love.

So we closed ourselves off in a room upstairs, and side by side, we spent another few hours cutting, tying, and creating blankets.  Music, laughter, a bit of whining by Mama, stiff backs and legs, and the thrill of seeing the completed creations made for an amazing day.

What I saw as unmet expectations, God revealed as exceeding my expectations.  The love Jillian felt when she gave Braeden his handmade blanket and the appreciation Braeden showed when he received it, tugged at my heart.  I could only see selfishness at the store and it's cost at the cash register.  But God could see the love and grace that were yet to come.

And so the gift of fleece blankets just keeps on giving.  Jillian is making one for each our foster girls for Christmas and we are collaborating our efforts to make some as inexpensive-priceless gifts for others as well.  The time we spend together will be the true gift.

How like our amazing God to turn my original 2 blanket investment of love into something far greater and richer than I could have ever imagined!

The Miles a Mama Travels

We have hit the 1 month milestone since the beginning of school!  It's hard to believe its already been a month some days, and other days its hard to believe we're only 1 month into this journey;  it feels like so.....much.....longer.

The active lives of 2 middle schoolers with the addition of a preschooler and a 3 year old has been busy to say the least.  We have been blessed beyond measure with the expansion of our family for this season.  Busy, and blessed.  The girls have brought so much to our family and I am slowly seeing how much our family is bringing to these girls.  Attachment is happening across the board in our 6 person family.

As this first month of school unfolded, I quickly found myself dreading the afternoon commute.  One and a half hours in the van picking up all 4 children at 3 different locations.  The I-81 overpass bridge is currently being reconstructed and downsized to one lane in either direction.  Mama travels across that bridge a minimum of 4 times each afternoon.

As I am compiling all of my foster care paperwork in preparation for our home visit later this week, I (stupidly) decided to add up the miles traveled in my van (aka The Mama Mobile) since the first day of school; just for kicks.  1,851.  Now of course that is a grand total including weekend and family travel.  But seriously?!  1,851.

My curiosity was piqued, so I decided to look back over my calendar for the past month and look at where those miles had been traveled.

School
Daycare
Weekly Visits with bio parents
Counseling appts
Eye appts
Chiropractor appts
Dentist appts
Dance x 2 classes a week
DSS Training
Awanas
Hair appts
Youth Group
Orthodontist appts
Grocery store (even though I don't put that on the calendar)
Gas Station  (you can't travel without refueling!)
......and one CBS class for Mama....

And get this........the 1,851 miles traveled do not include Baseball 3 times a week because those miles are all on Dad's truck.  In addtion to his miles traveled dropping 2 kids off at school and 1 kid off at daycare every morning!  CrAzY!

So when Mama feels like I live in my van, I almost do!  A lot of great things happen in that van to and from so many places.  Lots of laughter, jokes, heart talks, praise, dvds, bonding, and stories.  And to keep it real: lots of fights, battles of the wills, short fuses, farts, "are we there yet's?", pee in the portable potty seat, opinions, and crankiness.

Are there days I wish I could hail my own taxi to take me far away from my van?  YES.  But deep down I know I'm where I'm supposed to be in this season, and that Jesus is riding in the van with Mama and all her peeps.

The Ugly Side of Beautiful

I can stand in front of a mirror and never truly see beautiful.  My eyes focus on all the flaws and imperfections; all the "I wish" and "how can I"s.  I only see what I want to be transformed from my perception of unattractive to my perception of what beautiful would like---if only......

I truly believe every woman is born with an innate desire to be found beautiful.  I believe it was placed within us for God Himself to validate with His unconditional love.  It then naturally moves into the desire for us as wives to be gained from our husbands.  We desperately want to be found beautiful by our man.  

Yet how often do we ever believe we are beautiful; even when we are told so?  By God or by our man?  We fill our heads with disclaimers and emphasize our flaws to rationalize how their words can't possibly be true.  We stamp out their utterances of beautiful with our bigger stamp of ugly.  We override any chance at being found beautiful with our own perceptions of messiness.  We are more comfortable believing satan's ugly lies than we are with believing in the beauty God created us to be.

What would happen if we dared to truly believe the words "You are beautiful"?  Would we feel vain? Feel like a fraud?  Be fearful of someone exposing us?  Become twisted up with comparison of different kinds of beauty?  satan can gain so much more ground if we stay stuck in the ugly.  

My struggle with beauty is becoming more and more real as my own daughter's struggle begins to bubble up to the surface.  Last year as a 5th grader her vocabulary was sprinkled with words such as diet, skinny, calories, exercise, fat, weight, scales, treadmill routines, bras, and jean size.  It shocked me and hurt me inside for her, but I did nothing but assure her she was "just right" and more beautiful than she could see with her own eyes.  (words I struggle to believe about myself, but expected her to easily embrace)

The summer provided reprieve from the daily focus and discussions among friends who were all conscience and processing the same things as pre-teen girls.  However, the summer also provided several months for these girls' bodies to change shape and mature.  The lovely "blessings" of hormones that just keep on giving for decades to come.

The night before Jillian's first day of middle school, she fussed and fidgeted and frowned and fretted over her back-to-school outfit.  Not so much about the outfit itself, but how she felt about herself in it.  (us Mamas go there too!)  Her body was changing and she was only seeing the changes in the mirror as ugly.  My Mama vision was blurry with tears as I saw the beautiful.  But she couldn't see it; she could only see the ugly side of beautiful.  Much the same way my man sees the beautiful in me that my own eyes can't see.

As Jillian reunited with classmates that first day of middle school, she was quickly reminded of how much emphasis is placed on outward appearances.  One friend announced her insecurity by blurting out she had gained weight over the summer.  Another friend countered with her own insecurity by stating that she had lost weight over the summer.  This Mama wanted to shout "you girls are in 6th grade!!!  You have no idea what FAT really looks like!  I can show you rolls and stretch marks and acne scars and wrinkles and........(gasp)cellulite!"

Its hard and messy trying to breathe the truth of beauty into your girl when you struggle to find a breath of it for yourself.  We are born yearning for beautiful, yet when our genuine beauty glows, we dismiss it and look to the world for validation.  The ugly side of beautiful is that we never give up the pursuit of trying to find beautiful; while deep inside, we never believe we will truly find it.  We think beautiful exists for everyone else but ourselves.

I wish I could close this blog with profound wisdom that has helped me overcome, but I can't.  I'm still knee deep in my own beauty battle and now have a daughter who has joined me on the front lines.  Because God designed us girls with the need to be found beautiful, and He Himself is the source of that treasure, I know where to find true beautiful.  Its the digesting it, the claiming it, and the living it that keeps us stuck on the ugly and messy side of beautiful.

Lord Jesus, remove the scales of ugly covering the eyes and hearts of your daughters, so that we may see the beautiful, believe the beautiful, and live the beautiful.  

"He takes great delight in you, He rejoices over you with singing!"  ~Zephaniah 3:17

I Hugged an Angel Today

Today, Mama went postal.  As hard as those words are to write, living them was one of the scariest Mama moments I have ever survived.  Even as I type, emotions and tears spill out from that place today.

We planned a fun trip to the Zoo for our Crazy 8 family, plus one more borrowed child.  We managed to successfully and smoothly ride the Metro with 9 people, 3 strollers, and a slew of backpacks, from Shady Grove to Cleveland Park.  And then my world stopped in the blink of an eye.

The Metro doors opened at our Cleveland Park destination and Jillian pushed Emily in the stroller out the door onto the Metro platform.  In a matter of 3 seconds, before anyone else could exit the Metro car, the doors closed--separating Mama from 2 of her peeps.

Willie tried physically re-opening the doors, but to no avail.  As the Metro train pulled away from the station, leaving my daughter and foster child stranded all alone on the platform, this Mama screamed and banged on the doors with all her might.  Mamas' don't go down without a hell of a fight.  That crushing feeling that there was nothing I could do consumed me.  I crumbled to the floor and prayed.

Willie got on the emergency intercom and tried to explain the situation to the driver, but the Metro continued rolling along taking me further from my children; all alone and scared.  In the panic of the moment as the doors closed between Jillian and the rest of us, Willie remembered making eye contact with a woman already on the platform near Jillian.  This was our angel.

At the next station, our family exited the Metro car where God had placed a Metro employee directly in our path.  He called back to Cleveland Park and alerted the staff of our stranded children.  In the rush of this action, my phone received a text:  an unknown number---"Hi, I'm with Jillian.  Give me a call when you get off the train."  I cannot put into words the peace that rushed over this Mama's heart like a healing salve.  God had heard our prayers and sent an angel to stand guard over Jillian and Emily until we could get to them.

In what seemed like forever to this Mama, our family circled back to the Metro exit and rushed off the train.  Flying strollers and escalator frenzy, we were reunited with our girls.  Mama's hugs were deep and full of heart.  But my eyes searched the platform for our angel.  I didn't know what she looked like, but when I saw her I knew it was her.  I walked over to this complete stranger and embraced her in a bear hug of gratitude with tears of indebtedness streaming down my face.  When the hug was over, we were both crying and her words were:  "I would never have left them."  She simply repeated this phrase over and over again.  One mama to another.  One stranger to another.  One angel to rescue His children.

 As I still feel like an emotional mess recalling what happened today and daring to imagine other ways the crisis could have unfolded, I am praising God tonight for the angel He sent to watch over all of us.  Amy Grant's song "Angels Watching Over Me" plays in my mind and heart........

Amy Grant "Angels Watching Over Me"

"Messy Mama, Reporting for Duty"

The messiest part of fostering children is navigating the minefield of each of their messes.  Each child is different.  Each story is different.  Each one carries a different brokenness, like a heavy piece of luggage, with them.  Each child bears scars;  some we know about, others we learn about, and others we will never know about.  

Their mess is their life.  They are very limited in what they can do about it.  Most just fight to survive their mess on a daily basis.  Meshing their messes with our messes (because we're all human) makes for one big minefield.  At any point in any day you can find yourself battling a full blown explosion.

Just like each child and each mess, each explosion is different with a variety of factors, causes, damage areas, and effects on others.   As the foster parent, it is your job to assess, act, stabilize, and secure the safety of everyone in your home at the time.  When needed, call for back up!

Our most recent crisis moment completely caught me off guard.  Did.....not......see.......it.....coming.  Before I knew it, we were smack dab in the thick of an all out escalated explosion of emotions.  That crazy minefield got us!  Dang it!  Why wasn't I more careful or more prepared?

I've spent the weekend beating myself up.  Actually, I've spent the weekend riding the pendulum---swinging between "beating myself up for allowing the explosion to happened" to "thank you Lord for revealing this danger sooner rather than later".  It's been a messy ride inside this heart.

When God sends a child to our home for us to love on and care for and represent Christ to, I don't want a Messy Mama reporting for duty.  But the reality is, perfection does not exist, therefore we are going to be messy and get messy.  Some days, more so than others.   You can't deal with an explosion of emotions in your home and not get messy.  And God knows that.  And God still asks you to report for duty.

We have no idea the why's or how's or what's next of this assignment, but we answered the call, I reported for duty as a Messy Mama, and we can rest assured that God is more than able to provide damage control in His perfect will.  We will continue to open our arms and home to the messes, baggage, brokenness, scars, and deep needs of those struggling just to survive their own lives.

Will we get messy?  Yes.  Will they get messy?  Yes.  Is this what God is calling us to do?  Yes.  Is this what children need from us?  Yes.  Nothing takes God by surprise, so I am a "Messy Mama, Reporting for Duty" and following God into battle; knowing He is fighting for us AND them.

"Move Over Messy; God Wants More"

Today marks one week since our home became Grand Central Station (again).  Our family of four was joined by a 17 year old and her 18 month old son for a month.  Our 3 and 4 year old girls join us every weekend until next month when our home becomes their home for awhile.  That makes for a Crazy 8 the majority of the week!

As I grab a few minutes on the quiet of the back porch (I bet I just jinxed myself!), all 6 kids and the hubby are out front playing baseball, hopscotch, sidewalk chalk and probably things I don't want to know since they'll require cleaning up a mess.

We have survived our first week.  This "Mama Ministry" has been successful.  Everyone has survived, relatively unscathed, and we've met challenges we couldn't have foreseen.  As you can read on my Facebook page (Diary of a Messy Mama), there have been daily highs and lows.  That's real life folks.

What has struck me the most over this past week is how limited I have viewed my abilities.  I have  put myself in a box and more honestly, I've put God in a box, as to when and how He could use me.  All I see is messy.  God sees more.  Not in me, but in HIM IN ME.  This messy Mama likes predictability, safety, organization, and plain and simple---a neat packaged life.  When those self-imposed expectations get messy, I tend to streamline and pull back.  Simplify.

But when life gets messy, God desires more of me and sometimes that means more mess.  Can I live like that; more messy?  Can I restrain my expectations so that God can use me as He desires?  It's a stretch people.  This chic thrives in her comfort zone.  God wants more; and it never seems to be in our comfort zone.

Well, the kids and hubby have found me on the back porch.  They are all heading up the street to the park for a game of wiffle ball and asked me to join them.  As I close this blog, I just got a text to grab toys that they need and forgot to take with them to the park (yay for technology!).  But before I start walking to meet them, I'm grabbing the can of bug spray I see, because something tells this Mama it will prevent a lot of future whining!

This is the evidence I found as to what the other 7 were up to while I was blogging:
I love being a messy Mama......

The Mama Ministry

There are times when God lays something on your heart that just doesn't make sense, but He does it in such a way that you know it was from Him.

I've been a messy Mama for awhile now.  My son turned 13 (yikes!) this winter and my daughter turned 11 (what?) this spring.  That's a lot of MESSY!  Plenty of mistakes, but plenty of miracles too.

Just recently, God called me back into my home full-time.  He asked me to step away from the Community Bible Study ministry in my hometown and focus on the ministry of being a Mama and a wife.  A Mama to my own children, and a Mama to foster children.  But of higher priority, a better wife to my man.  Marriage can be even more messy than Mamahood!  (Can I get an AMEN!) 

But with this call on my life, came a loss of writing and loss of intimacy with women.  Writing is like breathing for me at times.  Especially when it's what God writes through my fingers.  There's an exhilaration like none other when I sit down at my laptop and God starts pouring His words all over the keys and screen!  And the sisterhood of women just makes this girly-girl dance on the inside!

My compassionate God knew this new journey would be a sacrifice for me.  Yet He planted a dream in my mind and heart that would meet this desire to write and connect with women;  while giving God the glory in what may seem mundane and repetitive---being a Mama.

There is no greater ministry than being a godly Mama.  We shape our children's adult years NOW.  Good and bad.  That's a significantly high calling!  One we can only accomplish through Jesus Christ.

So, I invite you to join me on this crazy, messy journey that only God knows where it is going.  It may crash and burn, but it may grow wings and fly.  Either way, God is in it and only His purposes will prevail.  

God is writing this story for his Glory!  And so the "Diary of a Messy Mama"  begins...........