Making the Ordinary Come Alive

A friend of mine recently posted this passage from William Martin's, The Parent's Tao Te Ching: Ancient Advice for Modern Parents on her facebook page

When I read this it summed up perfectly a lesson the Lord had reminded me of recently. This excerpt is a great example of where my phrase, 'ordinary moments, extraordinary life' takes root. There is so much beauty in life's simple pleasures if we take the time to seek them out, or let them happen as they come, and give them the chance to take root in our hearts. 

I was just thinking about this when I took these pictures of a few of my kids while we were attending family camp. We had come back to our little family cabin to quickly change out of swim suits and head back for organized game time. While some of the kids were changing a few of the big kids made their way into the creek by our cabin and began to explore. 

As I looked down on them from a little bridge above I witnessed them helping each other across the rocks and water. They were excitedly pointing out treasures and creatures to each other. Squealing in joy at these new discoveries and not wanting each other to miss out on any of it. 

As I watched my children from my vantage point above I was suddenly in no hurry to get back for camp game time. It was time to let go of the busy schedule and live in the beautiful moment they were experiencing right then.  The hope in my heart that day was that when my children grow up and reflect back on their childhood, that moments like this would come back to them. That ordinary moments exploring creeks and catching frogs would add together to build an extraordinary childhood for them. 

Ordinary Moments, Extraordinary Life

I'm often told that these days when my kids are young, are going to fly by.  I try to think back on my oldest daughter learning to crawl, or her sweet little 3 year old face covered in sticky pink cotton candy from a visit to the fair.  I realize if it were not for pictures and videos these moments would be gone. My brain has to push out the old to make room for constant assault of here and now. When I look at a photo it brings the moments back to me. It fills in the blanks left behind with time. It's time travel. A little bit of magic if you ask me.

I always wish I would have taken more photos and videos when my youngest two were babies. Alas the daily demands of caring for two kids 11 months apart in age didn't even leave me with a thought to record the daily chaos. But in this age of social media I'm thinking more about it. I learned about this free cell phone app called Timehop. It shows you what you posted on facebook, twitter, and instagram, exactly one year ago, two years ago etc. I really enjoy opening the app each day and seeing my kids faces look back at me over the past 5 years that I have been using these social media outlets. I'm watching them grow up before my eyes. I'm reminded what they looked like and what they were doing years ago on this very day. So all this got me thinking. What can I post today that will capture this day, these moments, this stage in life so I can time travel back to this very day when I open my app in 2015 and beyond? I know I won't recall the joys of potty training an ADHD child, or the explosive diapers of a baby with cystic fibrosis, or that my sweet Katie was student of the month. My boys may not remember that they got along a year ago and were cuddled up in bed together playing games on their kindles when I went to see what they were up to. But now I have proof! On days they need to be reminded that their siblings are their biggest blessings I will pull up these photos to show them how lucky they are to have so many siblings to share this unique journey with. I'm documenting these days as they go by and I'm hoping it will be a blessing to them as they grow older. This is my legacy. This is my joy. To watch them grow, to shape them as I can, but to really just celebrate who God has made them to be.

I've taken on the challenge to commit to capturing moments. Messy ones, sweet ones, frustrating ones, slow gentle days, crazy hectic days that feel like they will never end, days I question why I'm doing this at all, and the days I feel like I'm a rock star at what I do. I want to be able to travel back to these fleeting moments and reflect on how they have all been added together to give me this crazy beautiful life I call my own.  I want the raw and real moments along with the sweet ones. I want to be able to show my daughters that motherhood is the most complicated, challenging, and beautiful thing they may ever do. That families are formed in ways that you may never see coming. That you may never have it all together, but together you can have it all.

How will you capture your moments? What is happening around you right now that you can document and preserve? It only takes a moment to snap some photos during your day on your cell phone. Think about capturing a moment as it happens. When you walk in to find your toddler has taken off his diaper and proceeded to paint all over the walls with its contents during nap time, stop and take a breath. Then pull out your phone and take a picture. You will want this photo when he's 18. That's where you get payback from cleaning poop off his wall all those years earlier.

I've also had to work on letting myself be in photos. It's easier to be the one taking them and not have to worry about how plump I look in the photo.  But I'm thinking I will never be as young as I am right now. I will want to remember how I look right now as I move on the wrinkles and smile lines phase of life. I want my daughters to be comfortable having their picture taken, so I need to set the example for them. I am beautifully and wonderfully made, and so are they.  All too soon these type of days will be gone and replaced by different kinds of days with their own special moments. These beautiful children of mine will be grown and capturing their own moments. I hope I will be able to convince them to capture their own days and send them to me as they begin to go off on their own journeys. But for right now these ordinary moments of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, homework, tantrums, and pre-teen hormonal fluctuations, are adding up to make one extraordinary life.

Check out this link to the free Time Hop app I mentioned by clicking on the link. It's not to late to start capturing your families daily moments! Timehop App

The Waiting Room

Have you ever sat in a waiting room? Waiting for the doctor to come back in and tell you what's wrong with you? Waited for test results? Waiting for endless hours as your child burns with a fever and cries because they are in pain, and yet there is absolutely nothing you can do to fix it? Your foot taps nervously without your notice. Your stomach churns. You feel desperate, out of control. You pray constantly without words but with cries for help. The cry of please, please Lord. Because He knows your heart. He knows the struggle you can't breathe into words.

I'm stuck in a waiting room right now. I have no idea how long I will be made to wait. They say 2-4 weeks. If feels more like a lifetime. See I'm waiting for my future son or daughter to be born. I'm waiting for the phone to ring. Waiting for my caller ID to say DHS. Waiting for the words that will come while I silently pray, Please God Please.... As I listen I will forget to breathe. Everything else will fade away. The noise of the children at home around me, the dish I was just about to put into the sink, all that, all that will just be gone. I'll feel that deep sick to my stomach feeling that comes with adrenaline, fear, and silent hope, all mixed together. I can hear my heart in my own ears racing on faster and faster. Still I will forget to breathe. I wont remember to do so until I hang up.  I know this is how it will be because I've been here before. But this time....This time is different.

Last time in the waiting room I was full of hope and excitement. My biggest worry as I answered the call I had been waiting for was if drugs would be on board at the time of birth. Even with just that small worry the world paused for me when I answered the phone. That mix of fear and excitement were coursing through me. My heart leapt forward without me. I heard her say that he's here. He's good. Mom managed to stay clean the last 3 weeks since she took off from treatment. He looks just like his brother! He has a clubbed foot though. The nurse said its a pretty significant one but thankfully its just one of his feet and not both.....

Two minutes go by as she tells me the details of who I will hear from when it's time to pick him up from the hospital. I hang up. I realized I had been holding my breath as I frantically called Husby and shared the news. I went immediately to my computer to look up what a  clubbed foot was and what treatment would look like. I discover that it means 6-8 weeks of on going full leg casts from hip to toe. I realize it means weekly appointments. It will mean having to get creative with clothing and mobility. It will mean a baby who is upset by confinement. I remember the small passing thought of how I won't be able to carry him in a ring sling like I was looking forward to. I went on to read he will wear braces on his feet until he is 4 years old. 4 years old?! His development may look different as he's learning to roll over, sit up, crawl and walk. I called my besties. Asked their advice. Could I do this? Would they help? When you have a ton of kids logistics come into play. How will I take 6 kids to the doctors office weekly for casts? I'll need to farm them out. Besties say that got me covered. I say a prayer of thanksgiving for the people in my life that the Lord has blessed me with. It takes a village to make this calling on my life possible. And let me just tell you, I have the world's best village.

Two weeks of little mans life go by. The phone rings again. This time it's his pediatricians office. There's a problem they say. This time the world around me goes into slow motion. That feeling of adrenaline and sickness comes back in full force. He has several markers for Cystic Fibrosis that came back on his PKU testing that was done at birth they say. Another test will be needed to confirm it. We schedule the appointment. I hang up. It feels like I may never breathe again. One phone call has altered the course of my life, and my child's. I sit down at the computer again to start looking up what cystic fibrosis is what it will mean for him while I call Husby on the phone. I bust into tears the second he answers. I read on. I see the words through blurry eyes. No cure. Life shortening. Life expectancy 37. Some CF children don't survive through childhood. Digestive and lung issues. Frequent hospitalizations. The list goes on....

I find myself wishing that his clubbed foot was once again my biggest worry for him. There was a moment after the original phone call that I wondered if the clubbed foot would be too much for me. Could I manage all that entailed while raising my other 6 children? I see now that God was preparing me. He had to bring me through that before I could face his cystic fibrosis diagnosis. From that moment on I had to hand it over. It was too big for me. It continues to be too big for me. But it's not bigger than God. It's not too much for Him. Thankfully He is my measure and my portion. He gives me what I need when I need it. He fills my cup, and my cup runneth over. This child is my joy. An ever abundant blessing. I'm thankful to be part of his journey. God has chosen this little one just for me, and me for him. God's got me covered.  He has my back. And yet...

I sit in life's waiting room once again. I'm having trouble leaving the room. The stakes are much higher this time. The fears reality. I feel stuck here as I wait for the phone call that will pause my world as I hear the words that will determine my babies life long struggles. But that's just it. I have absolutely no doubt that I'm supposed to be in this very waiting room, waiting for this special baby. I know in my heart that we have been called to parent this child along with our 7 other blessings. I know it sounds crazy. But this is our brand of crazy. You have your own crazy, trust me you do, and I have mine. This is the life He has laid out before me and it humbles me to the core that He trusts me with it.

So here I sit, and here I wait. I pace the waiting room floor. There are grooves worn where I tread. I lift up prayers that this little one will defy all the odds stacked against them. I internally panic each time my phone rings or an email comes through. I know the moment is coming. I can't help but worry non stop for this child.  It's hard to have no control, to have no information. Knowing someone else is making unacceptable choices with your child's life in utero.... It's too much. It's way too much for me. But once again it's not too much for Him. So I'm going to try to curl up in His lap as I wait in this waiting room for this child that He all ready knows. Please come wait with me. Offer up prayers for this sweet little one. Prayers that defy the odds, prayers of protection, prayers for peace, and for a constant understanding that despite this being too much for me, He's got this. And he's got me.