Sleep Rules

When I was a new parent, I read lots of parenting books. How to get your child to nurse, sleep, poop and so on. There were a lot of very helpful things I gleaned out of those books.

One of the books was about getting your baby to sleep and keeping them on a schedule. I took that to heart. We kept the schedule no matter what. I read that they need to fall asleep on their own, self-soothe and not be dependent on the parent for sleep. Grant learned to cry himself to sleep.

I forgot everything I learned somewhere down the line. Most of our kids go to bed on their own anyway. Maren screams her head off and kicks the door until she decides to climb back in bed and fall asleep. I know it wouldn't help a bit if I decided to lay down with her. And if I thought it might help, I would totally do it. I mean when you have five kids who has time for books and schedules and sleep rules.

When my kids were all still nappers, I remember a friend saying that their kids didn't nap anymore and I was horrified. I could not imagine making it through a day without the glory of naptime.

But time has marched on and now we don't really have naptime in our house either. Generally if Maren naps she is up until around 1 a.m. so I try to hold her off. But there are those days when there's no way under the sun we'll make it without one. Yesterday was one of those days.

Sometimes when I am putting her down in the afternoon, she pats her pillow and says, "Mommy sleep with me please?" and I think about the rules. I think about the sleep book collecting dust in my basement. And I think I just have to break those rules. Maybe it's because I'm lazy. Or maybe it's because I have 5 kids and I'm stinking exhausted.

But I think I mostly oblige because there is nothing sweeter than cuddling up, exchanging some words and kisses and laying next to her warm little body as she drifts off to sleep.

Sometimes you just have to break the rules. Sometimes your heart knows better than a book. And sometimes you just need a nap.

In the Pit with Chuck and Abe

I'm reading the book "Paul: A Man of Grace and Grit" by Charles Swindoll. I love his writing because it is so warm and personable it feels like he is sitting across the table from me with a cup of coffee. It seems like it would feel natural to just call him "Chuck". Or not.

So I had read like a whole page and a half of the book when something struck me. He was writing about Abraham Lincoln and all the pitfalls and failures in his life. I had heard about that from other sources lately but being a non-history buff it was new to me. He had so many failures and breakdowns it doesn't seem possible that he became such an important and well-respected President. Here's what Mr. Swindoll said:

"Not knowing any of that, we reflect on a presidency like his and our tendency is to think, My, what a magnificent background he must have had. Then we peer deeper into the dark cave of his past and realize it's riddled with failure and tragedy, heartache and pain. We're surprised. Even shocked.

The steel of greatness is forged in the pit. It's true of all of us. Don't ever forget that, especially when you're in the pit and you're convinced there's no way anything of value will come of it." Charles Swindoll, Paul: A Man of Grit and Grace page 2-3

This week has been a rough one: messes, sickness, crabbiness, fatigue, and rain. It's those times, when things are tough I definitely feel like I'm in the pit. I certainly feel that no one is looking or cares. Let's face it, mothering can be the pits.

If you're worn out, left behind, and sacrificing for your family you're in the pit.

If you're giving it all up until you feel you can give no more and keep on giving, you're in the pit.

If the choices you are making are leaving you strapped for cash and your priorities make you look odd, you're in the pit.

If you're wondering if you will ever have a marketable skill again, you're in the pit.

If you're cleaning up another mess, doing another load of laundry or cooking another meal; you're in the pit.

"You can count on it, the circumstances and events that led to greatness in that person took place in the hidden years when few were looking and no one cared."
Charles Swindoll, Paul, A Man of Grit and Grage, page 1

To me greatness is found in following Christ and becoming more like Him. It's in the pits of life we learn humility, service, gratitude and love. And I'm assured of this: there is Someone looking. He cares about the details in my life that no one else does. He loves me even when I want to cry or scream while I'm wiping who-knows-what off the floor.

I know there are bigger and darker pits, but this is the pit I find myself in now. And I can already see shimmers of greatness emerging. I'm forever changed and I have the privilege of pointing my kids to The One when they are in the pits of their own lives. And that is great.

Psalm 40:1-6 (The Message)

I waited and waited and waited for Yahweh,
And last he looked; finally he listened.
He lifted me out of the ditch,
pulled me from deep mud.
He stood me up on a solid rock
to make sure I wouldn't slip.
He taught me how to sing the latest God-song,
a praise-song to our God.
More and more people are seeing this:
they enter the mystery,
abandoning themselves to Yahweh.

Blessed are you who give yourselves over to Yahweh,
turn your backs on the world's "sure thing,"
ignore what the world worships;

Because I Care

My husband is pretty great. I can say that because he doesn't read my writings unless I e-mail him the link. So this is a pretty passive-aggresive way of addressing this issue. (and a warning: put your breakfast down before you read this)

I really, truly appreciated that he dealt with and cleaned up the latest middle of the night mess fest in our house while I slept away. I really didn't want to see all the food that my son had eaten at his sleepover the night before. Although I'm sure it was fabulous going down.

There is something I feel the need to inform him of because I care.

When you put dirty, gross and puked on things in the washing machine, the "dirty" doesn't just disappear or disintegrate. It collects inside the rubber tubing in front of the washer. Someone then has to clean that out with a paper towel, take out the sheets and shake them outside, wash out the washer and then re-wash the sheets with bleach and fabric softener. I just thought you might like to know that.

Because I care.

Shower: The Final Frontier

There is one small space of solace left in my life where I can actually be alone: the shower. I love showers even if I don't get to take them as often as I'd like. Showers are kind of like coffee for me. I can't function well without one.

But with my spirited two year old around, showers are risky business. She is a master at getting into things. She can open the fridge, take the cap off the honey, climb up into the pantry, get into the dog food. She even colored all over my Grandparent's new chair with a ball point pen when we were there. Thankfully it all came out.

I was panicked after church on Sunday when Mike discovered she drank a little vial of Albuterol, the medicine that goes in Annie's nebulizer. Mike called poison control and they said it was fine but she might have the side effects of Albuterol, which is hyperactivity. The neb is now in a much more secure place. She moves so fast that I should never turn my back on her.

So today after several accidents and dumping a bottle of shampoo all over herself I thought I'd do damage control and kill two birds with one stone by taking her in the shower with me. I was hoping she would hate it and cry and it would miraculously stop her from making such massive messes. But wouldn't you know, she loved it. She washed herself and scrubbed the wall and wants to take a shower with me everyday!

Tonight when I was putting her to bed and she grabbed my face between her little hands and gave me a kiss right on the lips, I decided that was just fine with me. Personal space is overrated anyway.

Complexities of Faith

I've been spending time wondering about the complexities of faith. Is there absolute truth? What's the point of life on earth? Why would God allow suffering? Those are all very good and important questions and may find their way into another post.

But my perspective changed the other day with one phone call. A dear woman in our church is in her final days. One of the joys of having been at SonLife this long is seeing kids that were in grade school when we arrived get married and have kids. Now one of the challenges is going to be mourning the loss of some people that have become dear to us.

This woman will tell it like it is. She tells how she used to have to go the creek and break the ice to get water in the winter. She is a fighter and is very generous. Our family's new tradition is to go out to their property to cut down a Christmas tree, followed by our kids being filled up with cookies and milk. We received a hand-made quilt from her when we moved into this house. The craftsmanship is amazing. In fact, it's on our bed right now.

She is fond of Mike. One time she asked him what he liked to eat before he came over. He jokingly said prime rib. (Well, he does love it, but didn't actually expect her to make it for him). On her orders, her daughter scoured the restaurants in the area to find a place she could take him to for prime rib. She did that many times and loved every minute of it! She was very happy that both her doctor and pastor were young so they'd outlive her and wouldn't need to train new ones. Even though she can't talk much now, her son noticed she can clearly ask for Pastor Mike.

Mike has been there a lot the last few days. After a series of strokes she is ready to go home. When asked if she meant home to Holyoke, she said no. Home to heaven. She wanted to talk about love so Mike read her 1 Corinthians 13.

And I realized that in the end when you are laying in your hospital bed, faith is not complex. It's simple. God loved us enough to sacrifice His son for us. If we accept His gift, we look forward to a heavenly home going. Now that is simply beautiful.

Hebrews 12:2
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

I Corinthians 13:4-7
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.