Captain America in the 5th Grade

Yesterday at Zoe's class party, all the kids were outside playing games.  Zoe was among 4 kids playing "jump the line"  3 of those kids were boys.
Very athletic boys.

I was standing there, just in awe of her confidence, watching as she gave each jump her everything, running as hard and as fast as she could, jumping as high and as far as her legs would take her... in her dress shoes.

They played several rounds, her taking initiatve and using teamwork along with another kid to move the rope further away after each jump.

I'm just standing there like a goofball, all proud and excited about this amazing kid of mine, cheering all the kids on after they landed and rolled on the ground, making the long jumps.

And then, another classmate, a boy I had never met, wearing a long sleeve Captain America shirt, his hair slightly unkept, clearly not a part of the "athletic" group of kids, walks up to me and says "Hi."

"Hey!  Are you gonna jump?  You can join in.."

He's not shy with me, but looking over at the other boys (and Zoe), shakes his head matter-of-factly, and kinda laughs an insecure laugh "Me? A kid wearing a Captain America shirt?  Nah...."

I knew what he was saying, I knew what he meant.  These words were hidden under that one little sentence, under that nonchalant wave of his hand  "I'm not a cool kid... I'm not part of that crowd"

"What?!?!  Captain America is like, awesome!!!  Of course you can do these jumps.  He's like super strong... "

And this kid perked up.  "Ya!!!!  He is awesome!  Have you seen Winter Soldier..."  He keeps talking.
And he gets in line behind Zoe.

As he takes his first turn, (I'm now in charge of helping to move the rope back), I smile and give him a sideways glance, "But Captain America is NOT as cool as the Flash."

He takes another jump.  "Hawkeye could take the Flash any day."

"Not a CHANCE, no way."

And we continue our banter about which Avenger is better, and which DC Comic character could take on an Avenger...

I'm a nerd.  I know more than I should.

 "Iron Man isn't as awesome as Captain America.  Stark has to wear a suit to have powers. Captain America is genetically modified, he's strong without a suit."

We keep talking.

He's in line again, behind Zoe, for the second round, and someone else has taken over the rope moving.
I'm back to observing.

He's fired up, talking to Zoe, (who literally wrote a paper at school about the Flash being better than Quicksilver).  He asked her a question, and she didn't respond.  He asked again.

And my Zoe.  My girl who is so sweet, an incredible athlete, and whom I've observed being so compassionate toward her friends, shook her head and rolled her eyes, and she didn't even acknowledge that kid.

She took her jump.
And looked at me, waiting to hear me praise her.
I was NOT gleaming with pride.
I was standing there, mouth open, shocked and disappointed.

I mouthed "Zoe?"

She threw her hands up, and shook her head  "What?!"
She knew why I was staring her down.

She took her jump again.
We made eye contact.
My eyes were saying "Get-over-here-right-now"

Her shoulders dropped, and she walked over.
Before I could say a word, she defended her actions, and she whispered ".... He's weird, Mommy..."

I whisper-shouted my reply "But YOU'RE weird!"

"You love that kind of stuff... Consider your heart, Zoe.  Are you being kind?"

There she was.  Faced with a dilemma.
Be a part of the rest of the group; the jock boys that she was holding her own with, and who didn't speak a word to that sweet boy... or...

(I wonder what was in her heart.  Fear of her mama being disappointed?  Fear of a lecture?
Or did I somehow get through to her and allow her to see the err of her ways?)

She took her place back in line, the boy behind her, and she looked over her shoulder and smiled "I'd choose the Flash..."  
She jumped the line, and ran back, he jumped, and missed, and took his turn moving the rope.

And from the back, one of the boys that hadn't said a word to this boy piped in and said "Batman is better than any of them...."

I resumed my position of pride and joy in my Zoe girl, noting that, regardless of her reasons, Zoe chose to be kind.  She chose to honor her mama, and she did it with a positive attitude.

When the kids were done, the boy walked over to me, and with the sweetest and most emphatic tone,  said "Ms. Anderson, thank you!!! That was really fun!!"

"Awww.  You're WELCOME. You did so good, too!  Aren't you glad you joined in?"

"Ya.  That was fine... but I was saying thank you for talking to me...  It was really, really fun!!"

Time stood still.
I had to somehow swallow the lump in my throat and get words out of my mouth.

"You're a really cool kid!  I had a blast talking to you, too!"

This kid, in spite of his insecurities, walked up to a complete stranger, just to say hello.

Because of that, my life, and Zoe's life, are forever impacted.

How many times has this kid been rejected by his peers?  Other adults?
Yet he remains true to himself, true to his passions,  and, he is willing!

Willing to run full speed ahead, and jump this line with everything he has in him, knowing the other kids are faster and stronger, knowing they won't interact, or attempt to embrace him.    

As a grown woman of 35 years, I still find myself standing on the sidelines,  in my Captain America shirt, believing that I don't have what it takes to jump; fearful of rejection, unwilling to risk being hurt.  Too many times, I've been ignored, and have had eyes rolled by my "weirdness".

But what if, my jumping in, my willingness to face my fears, in spite of my insecurity, will have an impact on lives?

That little 10 year old boy has no clue that his interaction with me was so inspirational .
Will he ever know how valuable, how important he is?
And that makes me wonder; will I ever know my worth?

I may never get to see the impact of my interactions with others, but isn't it possible that they're still so important?

This kid walked away grateful that I talked to him...  ?
No, Captain America.
I'M grateful that YOU talked to me.

Blind Man

Blind Man

January 27, 2012 at 12:57pm

PublicFriendsFriends except AcquaintancesOnly MeCustomClose FriendsNeighborsSee all lists...Atlanta, Georgia AreaNorth Hall High SchoolFamilyChrist FellowshipThe HighlandsLanier Technical CollegeAcquaintancesGo Back

What if he had a cane and darkened glasses to signify his blindness?
Would you be angry when he ran into physical obstacles?
Would you take it as a personal offense if he didn't "see" the stones he fell over?

What kind of person becomes angry by the physical limitations of a blind man?!

In the physical, would you not lay a compassionate hand on a stumbling and broken man?!

Why then, oh wicked woman, do you not offer the same tenderness toward blind eyes that are incapable of seeing the truth.?!

A mentally impaired individual in the physical
A mind that is incapable of comprehending in the spiritual...

Would you fault a person that was born without his mind for his lack of comprehension?!?

What sort of heartless being are you that you expect more from a person other than what they are capable of??

...... wicked woman.....


The mute cannot speak.
The blind cannot see.
The lame cannot walk.
The dead cannot live.....

It is I that will give him a voice...
I will give him eyes....
I will move him...
I alone will RAISE HIM FROM THE DEAD!

You pray.
You seek Me!
Do not condemn
Do not be angry
Do not self pity.

Trust me!
Trust me.
Trust me.

I have a plan, Amber.
I have a plan.
I have a plan....

Me

January 18, 2012 at 1:12am

PublicFriendsFriends except AcquaintancesOnly MeCustomClose FriendsNeighborsSee all lists...Atlanta, Georgia AreaNorth Hall High SchoolFamilyChrist FellowshipThe HighlandsLanier Technical CollegeAcquaintancesGo Back

I'm strong. Crazy strong.
And I'm weak. Really, really weak.

I'm a fighter!!
And I'm a coward.

I'm a fiercely passionate mom;
And I'm a failure as a parent.

I am in LOVE with Jesus, my savior; my true salvation.
And I'm a stubborn human being that gravitates toward selfish ambition.

I'm SECURE in who I am despite the opposition I have with myself. I love who I STRIVE to be, and when I fail (and I often fail) I moan, and grunt, and quiver- but I pull myself together. On wobbly legs, I STILL stand up and stagger forward.

I choose NOT to give in to the way the world would have it, though I've found myself striving to find a way out of doing it the way GOD would have me live this life.

When I find myself wishing for reprieve in the HERE and in the NOW; when I find myself hoping for a different path, I DO look toward the end result. What will it benefit? What will it harm? To whom will the satisfaction go to? To whom will be affected the most?

I choose the future. Not the present. I choose what IS TO COME, not what is happening now.

I choose my daughters, and the life they are living. I choose their joy, their peace, their fullness to the potential that they are for THIS future.

I choose Jesus. I choose to trust in Him, and His magnificent plans for me. They are far greater than my own.

I choose to stand strong and bold. I choose to be confident in the woman that THE CREATOR designed me to be.

I know what I'm made of; And I LOVE IT!! I'm overjoyed to see that it is NOT my doing, not my design, not my will and certainly NOT my strength that has brought me to this part of my future. 

I didn't give up....

It's not a matter of giving up.
I haven't given up.
I've not disappeared; I've not walked away from a purpose that has clearly been established.
It's no longer a question of what, or how, or why.....
The question I ask is "When?"
When is it time?
When will I be released to pour out the truth, and the wisdom, and the reality of what this journey has established within me?

When will I have the strength to withhold what should only belong to me, and display what's meant for sharing.

Offering insight into this unspoken journey while maintaining respective  anonymity.

Oh, the writers that have struggled with the emotional turmoil of who "we" are;  creatively analytical, imaginative, thoughtfully curious..... processors of every thought and possible thought of whomever we interactively relate to.

Art is an outlet; capable of releasing the internal pressure.
Songwriters, novelist, sketchers and painters and musicians alike pull from our emotionally overflowing bank, as we direct that overflow into creation.

We're lucky.
And so unlucky.

It has to go somewhere.

This season is akin to an artist that has had his brushes and his paint confiscated.
His freedom to express has been paused.

I've not given up.
I'm on pause.
Waiting to hear from The Lord; waiting..../
Just waiting for freedom.

You are a TREASURE

I battle with this.
Not just for myself, which is obviously something most of us battle.  "I'm a treasure?  I'm worthy?  I'm more valuable than ruby's and gold....?"
I battle with the reality that my enemies; those that cause me harm, and devastate me, they are a treasure.
We all are.

Sunday I drove to a church to hide in the sea of people that swam in from all directions of a massive parking lot, and a plethora of hallways and entryways.  I drove to church to hide and to hear.  To rest and to worship.

"Lord, I know you have something to say to me.  I want to hear You."

Over the past few weeks I had been struggling on a minute by minute basis with judgement.  With hate.  With a repulsive taste on the end of my tongue.  I'd been struggling to STOP the woe-is-me self pity party that tried to sneak into my mind.   Struggling with keeping in check with what I know for sure; despite how the outer surface appears, what is happening in my life is a GIFT.  It's NOT a shame.  It's not pitiful.  It's not "bless your heart, you poor thing."  It's GOD, in action, doing what HE has to do, to get my attention, to work a miracle in my life, to speak gently and lovingly into my brokenness.

I was already sort of prepared for the message.  God's sweet like that.  He prepares me way-ahead-of-time for stuff.  He knows I'm a big baby, and slightly A.D.D., so He does a lot of prep work in my heart when He really wants me to "get it". 

What sunk in deep, and I mean DEEP into my Spirit was this Word from Dr. Mark Rutland:
"Jesus sees us when we are UNDER THE GROUND.  We are so covered in dirt, and shame, and addiction, and bitterness.... we're just FILTHY.  We are FILTHY!!!  And we KNOW how messed up we are, and we're down on the ground, just wallowing in our mess.

And you know what Jesus does?  He looks down at us, and looks back at the Angels in heaven, and He proclaims "LOOK!!!  There!  Look there!  Do you see that TREASURE?  Can you see it?!?!"
Dr. Rutland hilariously offered a monologue of what he imagined the angels were saying "That?  What's He looking at?  That filth?  That junk?  How is that a treasure?"  But Jesus sees beyond the filth.  He KNOWS what He's found!  And HE IS EXCITED!

And when we're down, on the ground, just sick of ourselves, and just disgusted with our failures... JESUS is standing above us, cheering us on "COME ON!  YOU CAN DO IT!  I know you can.  Get up!  GET UP!  Whooo HOOOO!!  I believe in you!  I know you can do it!!!"

When the world has treated us like we're worthless, and we have been convinced by those around us, and by our own free thinking, that we are worthless, JESUS jumps in excitement and joy, and elation... "LOOK AT HOW VALUABLE THIS TREASURE IS!!!"

And deep, deep inside my spirit, I felt a HOLY call to see inside the pit, and see past the filth, and the disgusting, and KNOW that, even those that have caused me unbearable pain, THEY are a treasure.
I cannot hate, or judge, or allow bitterness to set in, when I myself am buried in the dirt, covered in filth, and grime, and my Savior calls MY NAME, my Savior calls ME His treasure.

Jonah was a profit... (woo wooo)  but he never really got it... (sad but true)...
I always think of Veggie Tales when I refer to Jonah.   
Here's this godly man, sent out to do a task, and speak God's judgement over a people.
He fully expceted these people to just get obliterated. 
And that goof-ball literally WHINED when those people TURNED from their wicked ways, and sought after the One True God.

Jonah sat on a cliff that overlooked this EVIL CITY, just waiting for God to smite them.
He sat, and he judged.  And he pouted. 
I imagine that all the while, Jesus is in heaven saying "NO!  Wait!  There's TREASURE in that city!  There's treasure there!"   God had mercy.  Jonah had done what God told him to do; deliver a message from The Lord... and tell these people to STOP!!!!  Stop. Doing. What. You're. DOING!

And those people STOPPED.
Yet, Jonah was resentful of that?

I think, (And I'm not Bible Scholar) that in that city, something bad must have happened to Jonah.  I think in some way, he was wounded and hurt, and just wanted to "see those people pay!".

Even in his wrongful thinking God still blessed Jonah with a covering.  (Shade from the sun).

So, my spirit is screaming "PRAY!  But don't judge.  Pray that the treasure doesn't bury itself deeper.  Pray that YOUR HEART doesn't allow room for bitterness.  Replace that bitterness with LOVE (in the Spirit).  

So.
We are all a treasure.  A buried treasure that GOD WANTS.  A treasure that Jesus sees!

Those that have caused me harm are A TREASURE.  And my job is to pray, to love, and to keep healthy boundaries in plcee so that the hurt isn't allowed to continue.

Show Me

I don't know what this song means.
I don't understand it.
But the Holy Spirit dropped it on me

Today, I had a 4 hour session of Counseling/Prayer Ministry.
4 hours.  FOUR HOURS!

I may have left there dehydrated- because I don't know how it'd be possible to cry that much,
and not have depleted my body of every ounce of water I had.

At times, I layed my head down on the table, and sobbed uncontrollably;
but not from sadness- well?- not only from sadness...
Out of pure humility.
Lord!  I cannot comprehend how much You think of me,
to show me these things
To bring healing to my brokenness.
Piece by piece.

I thought that He was demolishing my foundation, with an astounding amount of dynamite.
That's what it's felt like lately.
But the Word I heard from Him today-
"I'm taking out this broken brick, and I'm mending it,
And I'm replacing it with one that is strong.
Piece by piece, I'm removing the bricks that are broken
And putting in their place, solid pieces."

Lord- I have a LOT of broken bricks.
Thanks for not ripping me apart all together.
Thank you Jesus, that you don't use dynamite.
(Even though it often feels like what you're doing is explosive).

Your ways are not our ways.
I'm so thankful for that.
I'm way too messed up and broken to make plans for my life
Here's my planner, Lord.
Fill in the blanks.  No!  Don't pencil them in.
Use Your red ink.... and make it permanent.
I do not want to be in control
I do not want to be in charge.
I don't want to make these choices
I don't want to make these decisions.
You lead me.
I will follow.
If I get distracted,
Whack me on the head and get countrified
"Pay attention GIRL...."
And I will say "Yes, sir."
And if I get stupid,
Whip me.
And when I listen,
Let me know loud and clear that I'm doing Your will.
Don't let me make these choices.
Can I surrender my will to You?
Can I say, "Hey, thanks for the free will.... but NO Thanks.  I don't want it anymore...
I'm too dumb to have it.  I relinquish my will, and hand it over to You.  Permanently!"
Am I allowed to say that?
Am I allowed to be straight-up-ghetto-honest and say
"I'm totally whack- don't trust me with free will." ?

I can't be trusted, Lord.
My emotions are outrageous.
My fear gets in the way.
My pride slaps me in the face, and leaves a red hand print
My heart is a liar, and leads me into naive places.


What the future holds, I do not know.
At this point, I'd rather not know.
It's too much to bare.
I want to embrace the day by day.
The piece by piece.
Take away the crumbled bricks that are making my foundation faulty
And let me trust that what YOU are doing is perfect.

There is a message in these lyrics.
Usually, I can decipher
But I cannot right now.
All I know, is that my body shook, my hands trembled, and my spirit moved.
My skin warmed, and my heart rate quickened.
My throat closed
And everything around me stopped
The Holy Spirit said
"This- I want you to hear....  Listen..."

But I reckon' I'm an airhead,
Cause I don't know what He said.
More-so, I believe I'm just just a simple woman
And the complexity of what the Lord is doing in my life right now is beyond my comprehension.

I don't want to know ANYTHING, Lord- until YOU are ready for me to know it!!!
I'm tired of being nosey.
It's none of my business.
Because my life is not my own.
It's Yours Lord.
I want it to be fully Yours.
Not my will, Father.
Never.  Ever.  EVER my will.
I relinquish my right to myself.
I don't want it!
I'm too irresponsible to have it.

God, take me.
Grab me up, and take me forever.


http://youtu.be/9b5Snkw18Lg


You can Plant me like a tree beside a river
You can tangle me in soil and let my roots run wild
And I will blossom like a flower in the desert

But for now, just let me cry


You could raise me like a banner in the battle
Put victory like fire behind my shining eyes
And I would drift like fallen snow over the embers

But for now, just let me lie

Bind up these broken bones!!!!!!!
Mercy burn and breathe me back to life
But not before you show me how to die

Set me like a star before the morning
Like a song that steals the darkness from the world asleep
And I'll illuminate the path you laid before me

But for now, just let me be

BIND UP THESE BROKEN BONES!!!!!!!!!
Mercy burn and breathe me back to life.
But not before you show me how to die.....
No, not before you show me how to die.

So let me go like a leaf upon the water
Let me brave the wild currents flowing to the sea
And I will disappear into a deeper beauty,
But for now, just stay with me
God, for now- just stay.... with me

A Lot about Nothing

And there is A LOT to say about nothing.

NOthing  is what it felt like we had over a month ago.  It's what we were left with.
Oh, one day, (who knows when), I'll spill the beans about the train wreck that created this nothing-ness, but today is not the day.

I'm learning the importance of "mute".  Shhhhhh.   Just be quiet.  Say nothing.

Nothing.


Nothing: (noun)
1.     no thing; not anything; naught: to say nothing.

2.

no part, share, or trace (usually followed by of ): The houseshowed nothing of its former magnificence.

3.

something that is nonexistent.

4.

nonexistence; nothingness: The sound faded to nothing.

5.

something or someone of no importance or significance:Money is nothing when you're without health.

I've had a lot of great one-liners pop into my fuzzy head regarding this "nothing" epidemic.
One true statement, that has replayed over and over, is this:

"It's when we've been stripped of everything, that we discover everything that we truly have."

I'm not sure if that's an "Amber Original" or not.
One time, in high school, I thought I invented the most amazing quote EVER:
"Sarcasm is spoken when there's nothing left to say."
But after a while, my friend pointed out "Oh!  That's from To Kill a Mockingbird!"
And by dern, she was right!

Any-who....

Being stripped of everything is turning out to be one of the most exhausting, yet rewarding experiences of my life.   I've had nothing.  But in that nothing, I've been given everything.

Friendship that comes to me, with my hands empty, and my self fully drenched in our circumstance.  I have nothing to offer but humility, and gratitude.  And yet, friendship comes to me still.  

Over and over, God has used specific friends to bless me.  TO encourage me.  To call me.  To talk to me.  To give me great gifts of comfort and understanding, and food, and clothes, and things that smell pretty.

I keep thinking "I've got to give something back."
But I have nothing.
I can only receive.  

It's humbling.

Zoe's Funny Story

Our 6 year old came home from school yesterday and announced in an emphaticly-matter-of-fact-like manner: 

"I got diarrhea today!!!  It's pretty bad.  Wanna smell my stinky fart?!"  (sigh)

For the remainder of the evening, she proceeded to announce each and every time that she tooted

 "HahhhhHA.  It smells SO BAD!"

And then.... it wasn't a fart....  and she looked at her daddy with eyes that said "Ooooops."

She ran upstairs to the bathroom to take care of business.  Her older sister asked "What happened, Daddy?  What'd she do?"   I felt the need to interrupt before he answered, "Hey.  Don't tell her.  It might embarrass Zoe.  I don't want her to get made fun of....".

My husband cut his eyes at me and said "I really don't think she'll be embarrassed by it."

"Well, just in case......" and before I could finish my sentence, Zoe hollered downstairs, in her loudest announcement-voice:  

"KYLA!!!!!!!!    I thought it was a fart!!   But it WAS-ENT!!!!   I got some of it in my UNDER WEAR!!!!!  It's So. So. SO. SO. gross!.......    Wanna come and SEE!?!?" 

Zoe is home today, avoiding the potentially "embarrassing" opportunity to have an accident at school.  She's been in the bathroom at least 12 times in the course of just a few hours, but she's totally maintained her happy-spunky-bounce.    As I was writing this, she came over to me, read over my shoulder (which is one of my biggest pet-peeves) and said "You're writing a story about me?!  Can I read it?? 

She read it (ahem... over my shoulder) and I got the rare opportunity to type out our conversation as we were having it.  (I'm a super-duper fast typer- which impressed Zoe big-time!)

 

(These are Zoe's words, after she read what I wrote above..... Below is the exact dialog of our conversation.  I am typing this as her and I talk....and she is reading it as I type it.  This is so fun!)

(Zoe) "I DIDN'T DO THAT!!!!!!   Please don't read it.  And don't send it to anyone else."

(Mommy)   You didn't do that yesterday?   Are you sure?   I was pretty sure I heard you."

(Zoe)  STinker!  

(Mommy)   Awwww.  Just go ahead and admit that it really did happen.

(Zoe)  I didn't say that stuff, Mommy.

(Mommy)  Hmmmm.... are you just kidding?  

(Zoe)  NO.  I'm not kidding.

(Mommy)  Okay.  SO tell me what really happened.

(Zoe)  Ok, fine... I came home and I said "Mommy.  I have diarrhea."  

And well, a few minutes later, I farted.   And then I said "You wanna smell my fart.  It smells yucky."

And then I had to go poopy.   And then I was in the living room with daddy, watching Liberty's Kids, and then I thought it was a fart, and I pooped in my panties. Done."   

(Mommy)  Is it okay if I put this on my blog page for people to read?

(Zoe)  No, I don't want you to, because I'm going to be embarrassed.

(Mommy)  Bummer.  It's a pretty funny story.  Lots of people were gonna get to smile and laugh at how cute and adorable you are.

(Zoe) (in a sad and glum voice)  Okay... I guess you can.

(Mommy)  I won't if you really don't want me to.  This can just be a story for you, and me, and Daddy and Kyla and Leah.

(Zoe)  YOU CAN... if you want. Go ahead and send it.  (she said with a very happy voice) {and she also told me to type in 'she said with a very happy voice'}  

So, now Zoe is going to tell the story, in her own words, about how she passed HER diarrhea to ME!

{serious.  i DARE ya'll to do a dialog word for word of a conversation you have with your kids.  I'm dying here!!}

"Mama was going to the potty.  And then she said 'ZOE! You passed on your diarrhea to me.  I'm gonna spank you when I'm done.'  She didn't spank me. She was just playing with me. The End."

End Dialog.

 

I'm cracking up at the lack of detail that Zoe uses when she recalls her stories.  She's been "making fun" of me all day, regarding how "she gave me her stinky, smelly diarrhea."  I'm pretty sure it was the highlight of her afternoon.  

We had to make a Kroger run, and I explained to her that she could NOT have hot-chocolate from Starbucks, because she had a stomach bug.  She explained to me that I could not have coffee from Starbucks since I have HER diarrhea, now.   The banter continues a bit, and we make a stop beside the Starbucks counter inside Kroger so I could check my phone for a potato soup recipe that I was considering.  

Zoe announced, in a NOT quiet voice "NO MOMMY!!!!!!!   You can't have COFFEE!!!   YOU. HAVE. DIARRHEA!"

......and that was our day today.  

A whole bunch-of-Crap-talk.  

Literally.

I love my Zoe-Girl.  There is NEVER a dull moment, and a continuous flow of chuckles thanks to her spot-on wit.  Believe it or not, she really does not quite grasp the fact that people aren't laughing at her.  She doesn't realize how funny she is; It just comes naturally.  So, mostly, she assumes that people are making-fun-of her.    SO, if you ever see her doing something hilarious, and you laugh, and then she crosser her arms and makes a whiney sound and a pouty face.... now you know why.

So That I Might Sleep

I will ramble and ramble, and perhaps, if I'm lucky,  I will fall onto my pillow before 4 AM.

7 days ago, all was well with the world (that's a lie.. all was not well.. but for the sake of this ramble, we will stick to the standard terminology)  and my husband and I were expecting baby #4.

6 days ago, it all came crashing down, and we were no longer expecting baby #4.
Except that we kind of were...  we were waiting for my body to deliver our teeny little baby that didn't live beyond 10 weeks.

So we discovered that our baby's heart stopped beating.  And it was a sad, and awful day.

But, the days to follow were even more terrible.  I had to wait. I had to WAIT!   I knew that this baby was no longer alive, but it was STILL inside my body... and all I could do was WAIT!

And the waiting sucked!

My doctor did not give me the gritty details of  a missed-miscarriage.  She gave me the "if you want a D & C we can schedule that; if not, we can wait til the end of the week to see if your body will do it naturally."

"What will it be like if I have it naturally?"

"At the most, about 6 hours of bleeding... and cramping...."

Hmmmm.  Ok.

So, I started bleeding.  And "cramping".  (READ: Contracting!!!)
For 3 days.

And. It. SUCKED!!

And finally, it happened.  I went into "Labor" and my body tried to KILL me with pain as it worked hard to deliver every ounce of blood from my body... the baby.



*******do not read beyond this point if you have a weak stomach... turn back now**********






I labored in the bathtub for over an hour.... nothing happened.... went back to the shower a little bit later, because suddenly,  EVERYTHING started to happen.   spent 45 minutes bleeding, and passing tissue and clots, and finally... a little bitty, tiny, tiny,  minature baby.

After it all finished, I felt RELIEVED.   Ahhhh.  I can mourn, and move on.  Good.
Thank You, Jesus.

And then no.
No.

It was NOT GOOD.

I continued to contract (and agonize) for several. MORE. HOURS!

And then the next day, I was in a fog.
And the day after that, I was kind of ok, but sporatically miserably sad.

And I was still bleeding.  And still contracting here and there.  And still hurting.



So far, this ramble has done nothing for my insomnia.





Here's the deal.  I UNDERSTAND and comprehend the reality of miscarriage.   I really do.
I'm not questioning God, or mad at myself, or anything.
I'm. Just. Sad.

Don't get me wrong here... there's WAY more to this story than a quick ramble could tell.
My heart is truly filled with thankfulness;  And I'm over and over again humbled at how perfectly God took care of me specifically during the past week.   I'm content with our situation (or as content as I could be?)  But I'm also, just plain and simple, really sad, too.

I don't want anyone asking me if I'm "okay".  I don't want phone calls.   I don't want sympathy.

"Just checking to see how you're doing....."
Well?!  I don't KNOW how I'm doing.

*In one moment I'm staring off into space while crickets chirp in the empty thoughts that I'm (NOT) having.

*In another, I'm mourning internally.  Sometimes externally.

*And in another, I'm gut-laughing about something stupidly random that my friend did.

*And in another.....  I forget that I'm sad, and I'm just... regular.

*In other moments, I'm humbled by God's plan- I'm in deep thought about the intricate details that He had been planning during the last year of my life.  Really- I guess that's mostly where I'm at.  The other's are my vacation house- and this one here- it's my residence.  My thoughts are continuously toward God.
(not what you wanted to hear.. but it's the truth, people.   and man.  I'm so glad it's the truth.)


So if you're wondering how I'm doing, pick one of the options above that makes you feel the most comfortable, and THAT is how I'm doing today.



At the end of the week, when I visited my doctor, I put in a super-spiritual request for some ANTI-depressants.  Yes.  Oh, yes I did!   I know myself.  I know how easy I can fall into depression.  I'm not screwing around.  I want the drugs, and I want them IMMEDIATELY.  I want that fake seratonin, and I want it in high doses.

(Because I'm a nerd, I'll also want to be NOT on drugs as quickly as possible.  Physically, I would just rather NOT depend on them.  I'll switch to Sam-e after a few months.)

But for now- this chick is MED-uh-CATED.  (Unfortunately, it takes a few weeks for it to take full effect.  THis is only day 2.  RATS!)

 I also have been taking an all-natural calming-remedy.  It has LOTS of Valerian root in it.  And Passion Flower.  And other nice things that are suppose to make you c-h-i-l-l.

I've taken 2 of those today.  And maybe their working?  One of those pills alone would typically send me into TKO at snoozerville, but I reckon this is a special occassion, and it's better to use them for chill-mode rather than sleep-mode.

 (And even though rambling time has still not emptied my brain enough to lead me to close this computer and stagger upstairs, I can guarantee you RIGHT NOW this chick ain't asking for no sleeping pills.)

I'm good with taking my "seratonin" pill and hoping for "functionability", but Lord help me if I have to take a sleeping pill.  

That was a YAWN.  I just yawned.  Thank You rambler.

Ya.  But I'm still too scared to go to sleep.  THERE>  I said it.  That's what the problem is.
I'm still bleeding.  And it still periodically hurts.
I'm afraid of passing clots in my sleep.... maybe the truth is coming out... maybe I'm actually afraid of hemorraging.

Which is what happened to my sister after she delivered her full-term-perfectly healthy baby.
She was fine.
And then she wasn't.

I'm not afraid of death, or dying.  I'm afraid of how my death would affect my daughters.  And my husband... no... well, ya... my daughters and my husband.  Cause, if he's sad, they'll be EVEN sadder.  So I should totally be concerned about him, too.

   Selfish Amber would say "Whoo HOO.  Rock on the hemmorage.  I'm goin' to HEAVEN to-NIGHT, baby!"  But Mommy Amber jumps ahead of the other me, and says "No!  You can't leave your children alone with their Daddy!!  They'll go to school wearing sack-cloths and combat boots."  (and other such emotionally damaging stuff ...)

SO I reckon my ramble got it all out.  I'm afraid of sleep, and that is why I'm not sleeping.
Dude.  I wish I could charge myself $250 an hour.  I just totally psycho-analyzed myself.  I should be getting paid for this kind of awesomeness.

Now?   What to do with this information?
Do I publish my rambling?
Do I let the entire world (I mean 2 people) read everything that I just wrote?
Do I expose myself in my deepest, most inner-emotionally raw .....  something or other....

Sure.
Why not.

(If you read this- PLEASE click on the little box below that said "Read It".  I'm just curious as to if anyone ever reads these things....  DON'T worry.  It won't show your name, or make you sign up for anything.  SO if you're a stalker, I won't know who you are.)

Mommyhood

5 minutes.

The time that goes by without an interruption, or an explosion of

"MomEEEE!!!!".  

It doesn't matter what I'm doing.

Cooking.

Cleaning.

Folding laundry.

Writing.

Reading.

Taking a bath.

Interruption.

"She took my doll."

"She won't get out of my room."

"She hit me."

"She... They... But can I... Why won't you... Why NOT?!?"

At the end of my rope I grasp, losing my sanity. I can't do this Mommy thing!!  I can't be patient when I need to be. I can't use calm, yet assertive words to get my point across!!!  I can't have a thought long enough to keep it as my own before it is robbed from me!!!

And just when I think I've had more than I can handle, one of them comes to me and says- out of the blue, in the midst of my chaos,

"I love you!!  You're the BEST mommy in the world!!!"

And it all disappears. The frustration melts away, and I am suddenly refreshed with more will, and more strength to live up to what they believe to be true.

I'm a good mommy??

No.  

I'm the BEST mommy!!  

Insecurity: Reader's Digest Version

(minus the preface- because I got a little wordy).


In the 7+ years since I last 'worked' a regular job I have found that my security is still often found in affirmation (or the lack-there-of).  Each and every time I find myself doing something 'new', I look around like a lost child for somebody to 'help' me.  Someone to tell me I'm "doing great".  Someone to rate me.  Someone to constructively criticize me.  Someone to pat me on the back, or kick me in the rear.  I suppose in all actuality, I wasn't just looking for affirmation- I simply looking for something to help me know "how I was doing". 

As a mom, it's hit or miss  (mostly miss) as to whether or not I'm going to get that needed "good job! you're great! I like what you're doing.".  I've learned to look for it in different ways.  Maybe it's when my 7 year old hits a maturity-growth spurt and I see her flourishing as she interacts with her friends at school instead of pouting or whining.  It may be when my 5 year old bounces around the house like the tender-loving-goof-ball that she is singing "I love you, Mommy!  I love you!"  And at times, it's when my 3 year old is quietly playing with blocks instead of deconstructing our living room with markers and paint.

And I am so quick to shoot myself down, so quickly I find something that I lack, something that makes me less-than-decent, I find all of the wrong that I've done, and I see all the ways that I fail. 

I see piles of laundry that beat me down with their odorous stench, reminding me of just how terribly Ido manage my time and my resources.

I see cluttered floors that trip me up and take me further down a few notches, telling me that I should be able to keep a clean house like a 'normal' stay at home mom does.

I see a blog with empty and unfinished post and a book yet to be written half way through, helping me to realize that being a writer isn't where I'm going to find myself anytime soon.

I see chubby thighs and flabby arms that harshly encourage me to forgo my sloth and hit the gym (and stop eating so many Cheez-Its forGoodnessSAKE!).

But if YOU were to tell me all of these things about yourself, I'd knock you off your pity party and remind you of how unfair you were being to yourself.  HECK!  If YOU were to tell me all of these things about MYSELF, I'd defend my cluttered floors and chunky butt with ALL of the reasons why I shan't be made to feel less-than-what-I-am.

Isn't in interesting?!  How insecurity plays tricks and manipulates our thought!?  Isn't it interesting that, in everything a person can accomplish- it's rare to find a true sense of security in so many of us human beings!

I've never looked at a Lion and thought
"Awww.  She'd be able to kill that little baby deer if she'd just stop feeling so badly about herself." 

Lord, NO!  A Lioness knows that if she's hungry, she's gotta hunt, and once she sets her eyes on her meal, she's gonna be eatin'.  And I'm willing to bet that she doesn't feel a bit of insecurity about her ability to feed her lion mate or train her babies to be great lions and lioness'.   

Perhaps that's the problem?  Perhaps I was never trained to be a great mother.  Or a great wife.  Or a great writer.  Perhaps I don't know what I'm suppose to be doing, or how I'm suppose to be doing it.  Perhaps my insecurity comes from something as small as "not knowing". 

That's where the enemy grabs up some trampling ground.  The bible says that Satan is the "author of confusion".  It's true.  He wrote a novel pinpointing all of my insecurities, all of my short-comings, all of my "I don't know what I'm doing's", and he reads it to me daily. 

My failure isn't anything that he says it is.  My failure is simply allowing that 'novel' to be read to me by the author of LIES.

Here's what I know:

God directs my path. 
He will make a way for me. 
He is the official author of Truth, and Love, and Security.


I forget this often.  I am who I am because HE made me who I should be.  If I fail- it's a blessing to learn from my mistakes- not an option to beat myself up.  If I prosper- it's a blessing from HIM and not an opportunity to boast in my ability; but that doesn't give me the right to tear myself down, either.

The Lord used a situation that I was in recently to reveal just how terribly insecure I really am.  I had been starving for an affirming word to the point of tears, and had gotten myself into a pit of emotional malfunction.  God kept whispering "Hey- why are you hoping to find your security in that?"  and I kept ignoring His question. 

Finally, He roared in my heart
"DO NOT FIND AFFIRMATION IN THOSE THINGS!!!  FIND. IT. IN. ME."

I heard Him loud and clear.  And found myself asking questions and hearing answers.  I discovered a few very important life-points that I hope to remember.

A.
If I'm doing anything, I have to be certain that I require no affirmations afterward.  Furthermore- I should expectnothing in return.    Whether it be cooking my family a meal, or building somebody a house.... If I do anything it needs to be out of a genuine heart to "do" and not to "get".

B.
If ever (whenEVER) I find myself in a pit- I have GOT to remember to check the reality of why it is that I'm in that pit.  Did I mess up or am I just being insecure? 

C.
Take the 'playback' and 'predict' off of my options menu. 
DO NOT play back situations that you were in and pick yourself apart.
Stop predicting what someone is going to say and/or do as a way to convince yourself that you shouldn't approach and/or move forward with something you know you should do.  Example: If you need to apologize, don't assume it's going to be a waste of your time because you "know" the other person is going to rip-you-a-new-one.  Just apologize.  


It seems as if many of us are insecure.  I know that among the friends and family that I have, at least those who are willing to admit it, that this is a true statement.  It's not just women, either ya'll.  Men, too.  Maybe even more so.

So I'm not alone in my insecurity.  But I don't want to stay in it, either. 

Insecurity

I was the newcomer at my job.  21 years young, and completely uncertain of myself.  I had worked in that type of environment before; but I'd never had the position that I was now holding.  I was a part of the management team,  I was on a salary....  I was scared out of my skin!

I had to "fake it so I'd make it."  That was all there was to it.  The person that hired me found something in me that told her that I was a good fit for the job.  I applied for the job because I had found something in me that said that I could not only do the job, but also love what I was doing.

The position I held was an Activities Director at an Assisted Living Facility.  My job was to come up with, initiate, and lead the senior residents at the facility in various activities.  There were some that were very mobile and cognitive, some were immobile and unaware, and there were some in between.  Easy enough.  We filled our days with Bingo, "Spa" treatments (nails painted, hand massages, etc. given by Yours Truly), we had 'lunch dates' out, we went to local Farmers Markets and picked corn and beans to shuck and snap.  We did it all.  We had a blast!!  That was the easy part.  THAT was the rewarding part.

If ever I questioned myself, if ever I felt concerned that I was failing- those sweet, loving, and oh-so-wise senior friends of mine would (unknowingly) snuff out all those insecurities by lifting me up, by thanking me for being there for them, by loving on me.  Even those that were going downhill in their dementia would somehow affirm me through their words, or smiles, or lightened up eyes when I entered their room.

Alongside that role, I also needed to be in contact with the residents' family via a monthly newsletter and calendar that I was to create and send out.

I needed to schedule doctor's appointments on the days that I had set aside to help the residents "run errands".  It made them feel more independent- to come to me and say "I want to go get my nails done; can we fit that in on Tuesday."  or "I'd like to go to Rite Aid and pick up some new makeup".

And then there were some that simply did not want to participate.  They were bitter about their circumstances.  Many were depressed.  I went 'out of the box' and chose to coddle these ones; knowing that they wouldn't participate at all in any corporate activity- I chose to go-to-them.  I knocked on their door,  I sat on the edge of their bed, or beside them on their couch, and we chatted.  That's all they needed; somebody to talk to, and somebody to listen.  And that's what I gave them, and that's what I loved the most about my job.

That "job" (and I quote job because more often that not it was more than a pleasure to be doing what I was doing) enabled me to grow in more ways than I realized it had.  

Through all the affirmations that I recieved (from residents and their family members), I found my security.
But then, there was my boss.  She didn't quite view me the way others did.  She was often unhappy with how I utilized my time.  She was often frustrated when I visited residents 'one on one' instead of pushing them to join in on our activities.  She stressed me out more than I care to recall.  And to be fair- she was right in many ways.  I didn't do 'the job' the way she would have done it, and in was her right to enforce her requirements on me.

It was rare that she affirmed me.  Rare.  And though I had my praises sung on a daily basis by the residents that I cherished so dearly-  the chastising and ridicule that she offered broke me back into insecurities shape.

Affirmation.  Oh, how I love thee.  Oh, how I need you!

Leaving my position as an Activities Director came to pass when my new role as "mommy" took over.  Talk about a 180.  Or was it?!  I suppose I found a few affirmations in the sweet slumber that my  newborn offered me right after she finished nursing.  And I may have took it as a personal compliment each-and-every-time anyone doted on how sweet and beautiful my baby girl was (and still is.... )

In the 7+ years since I last 'worked' a regular job I have found that my security is still often found in affirmation (or the lack-there-of).  Each and every time I find myself doing something 'new', I look around like a lost child for somebody to 'help' me.  Someone to tell me I'm "doing great".  Someone to rate me.  Someone to constructively criticize me.  Someone to pat me on the back, or kick me in the rear.  I suppose in all actuality, I wasn't just looking for affirmation- I simply looking for something to help me know "how I was doing".

As a mom, it's hit or miss  (mostly miss) as to whether or not I'm going to get that needed "good job! you're great! I like what you're doing.".  I've learned to look for it in different ways.  Maybe it's when my 7 year old hits a maturity-growth spurt and I see her flourishing as she interacts with her friends at school instead of pouting or whining.  It may be when my 5 year old bounces around the house like the tender-loving-goof-ball that she is singing "I love you, Mommy!  I love you!"  And at times, it's when my 3 year old is quietly playing with blocks instead of deconstructing our living room with markers and paint.

And I am so quick to shoot myself down, so quickly I find something that I lack, something that makes me less-than-decent, I find all of the wrong that I've done, and I see all the ways that I fail.

I see piles of laundry that beat me down with their odorous stench, reminding me of just how terribly I do manage my time and my resources.

I see cluttered floors that trip me up and take me further down a few notches, telling me that I should be able to keep a clean house like a 'normal' stay at home mom does.

I see a blog with empty and unfinished post and a book yet to be written half way through, helping me to realize that being a writer isn't where I'm going to find myself anytime soon.

I see chubby thighs and flabby arms that harshly encourage me to forgo my sloth and hit the gym (and stop eating so many Cheez-Its forGoodnessSAKE!).

But if YOU were to tell me all of these things about yourself, I'd knock you off your pity party and remind you of how unfair you were being to yourself.  HECK!  If YOU were to tell me all of these things about MYSELF, I'd defend my cluttered floors and chunky butt with ALL of the reasons why I shan't be made to feel less-than-what-I-am.

Isn't in interesting?!  How insecurity plays tricks and manipulates our thought!?  Isn't it interesting that, in everything a person can accomplish- it's rare to find a true sense of security in so many of us human beings!

I've never looked at a Lion and thought
"Awww.  She'd be able to kill that little baby deer if she'd just stop feeling so badly about herself."

Lord, NO!  A Lioness knows that if she's hungry, she's gotta hunt, and once she sets her eyes on her meal, she's gonna be eatin'.  And I'm willing to bet that she doesn't feel a bit of insecurity about her ability to feed her lion mate or train her babies to be great lions and lioness'.  

Perhaps that's the problem?  Perhaps I was never trained to be a great mother.  Or a great wife.  Or a great writer.  Perhaps I don't know what I'm suppose to be doing, or how I'm suppose to be doing it.  Perhaps my insecurity comes from something as small as "not knowing".

That's where the enemy grabs up some trampling ground.  The bible says that Satan is the "author of confusion".  It's true.  He wrote a novel pinpointing all of my insecurities, all of my short-comings, all of my "I don't know what I'm doing's", and he reads it to me daily.

My failure isn't anything that he says it is.  My failure is simply allowing that 'novel' to be read to me by the author of LIES.

Here's what I know:

God directs my path.
He will make a way for me.
He is the official author of Truth, and Love, and Security.


I forget this often.  I am who I am because HE made me who I should be.  If I fail- it's a blessing to learn from my mistakes- not an option to beat myself up.  If I prosper- it's a blessing from HIM and not an opportunity to boast in my ability; but that doesn't give me the right to tear myself down, either.

The Lord used a situation that I was in recently to reveal just how terribly insecure I really am.  I had been starving for an affirming word to the point of tears, and had gotten myself into a pit of emotional malfunction.  God kept whispering "Hey- why are you hoping to find your security in that?"  and I kept ignoring His question.

Finally, He roared in my heart
"DO NOT FIND AFFIRMATION IN THOSE THINGS!!!  FIND. IT. IN. ME."

I heard Him loud and clear.  And found myself asking questions and hearing answers.  I discovered a few very important life-points that I hope to remember.

A.
If I'm doing anything, I have to be certain that I require no affirmations afterward.  Furthermore- I should expect nothing in return.    Whether it be cooking my family a meal, or building somebody a house.... If I do anything it needs to be out of a genuine heart to "do" and not to "get".

B.
If ever (whenEVER) I find myself in a pit- I have GOT to remember to check the reality of why it is that I'm in that pit.  Did I mess up or am I just being insecure?

C.
Take the 'playback' and 'predict' off of my options menu.
DO NOT play back situations that you were in and pick yourself apart.
Stop predicting what someone is going to say and/or do as a way to convince yourself that you shouldn't approach and/or move forward with something you know you should do.  Example: If you need to apologize, don't assume it's going to be a waste of your time because you "know" the other person is going to rip-you-a-new-one.  Just apologize.  


It seems as if many of us are insecure.  I know that among the friends and family that I have, at least those who are willing to admit it, that this is a true statement.  It's not just women, either ya'll.  Men, too.  Maybe even more so.

So I'm not alone in my insecurity.  But I don't want to stay in it, either.

What are some ways that you ward of insecurity?

Reading Above the Lines

My 7 year old is in 2nd grade.  She's been reading above her grade level, and her age since Kindergarten.  We have come to realize that she, somehow, beyond anything we had done,  chose to be exceptional.  She clearly wanted to read, and- per her strong willed personality, she did.  The end.  That's our Butterfly.  That's how amazing she is.

She loves information.  Any and ALL information.  That's why she reads.  That's why she LOVES to read.  Her hunger for knowledge drove her to our bookshelf, time and time, and time again.

And then, there's our Happy Girl. She's 5.  She's in Kindergarten.  She is equally as strong willed.  Equally as determined.  Equally exceptional.  Equally as amazing as her big sister.

 She loves to be involved.  She wants to do what her big sister is doing.  She wants to do what her little sister is doing.  She wants to be able to do what she sees anyone else doing.

At the start of the year, our Happy Grl was one group under the top reading group in her class.  Her teacher saw how capable she was, and requested to move her up to the top group.  This group sped through the Kindergarten reading curriculum and finished it up by the time we reached the half way mark of the school year.  By the end of their Kindergarten career, the group has already jumped into the 1st grade reading curriculum.

Happy Girl wants to succeed!  She wants to do her best, and be her best, and try her best.... IF  (and that's a BIG "IF") it's something that SHE wants to do.  She doesn't want to succeed to impress anyone else.  She doesn't want to be better for anyone else.  It's her own, personal ambition that pushes her to be her best.

We are closing out the school year for 2010/2011.  I met with Happy Girl's teacher today, and was astonished to hear her teacher explain where she had been placed on the "DRA Level" chart.

"By the end of the year, our county students are expected to be at a "4" on this chart.  The students at this school should be at a "6" due to the nature our curriculum.  Happy Girl is at level '20'.

(I scramble pick my jaw up off the floor, and keep my bottom on my seat as she continues to explain the system.)

"Now?   20 is the cap.  It's the highest that we are allowed to place her. She may, actually, score higher than that. But we aren't allowed to test further to see exactly where she's at."


Rewind to the middle of the year.  I had a similar conversation with Butterfly's teacher.  She needed to be at level 20, and she was at level 42.  I did a little dance to my mini-van after I heard this news.  I did a little jig to my car after I heard the news of Happy Girl's accomplishments today.

I found myself questioning how it is that we have these exceptional readers in our house.  I found myself wondering what the KEY to their growth in this specific area stemmed from!?

It's not because I read with them.  I did, a little bit, but not much.  I had plenty of BOOKS available to them, for them to look at, but we didn't do the "every night before bed story time".

Ya wanna know what I concluded?  What I assume is the key?   I'll tell ya about it next time.