coatsquotes

KIM

When I was 13, the most amazing thing that could happen to an awkward rising eighth-grader, happened. My beautiful, fashion forward, has-her-license, Sunflowers perfume-wearing, 16 year-old cousin, moved in with us. She and her guinea pig, Kiefer, came to live with us her junior year of high school in our small Indiana town. And when school started that year….

She did not ignore me in the halls. She did not shut me out of her room. She did not treat me like the annoying tag along that I most certainly was.

She included me. She let me sit with her (and the other juniors) at lunch. She let me ride around with her. She ate fettuccine alfredo with me after school until we were sick. We got so close that we eventually chose to share a room so we could talk as late as we wanted. That year we turned my juvenile lavender room into a much cooler midnight blue and I learned how to appropriately wear flannel, as we were well into the grunge phase of the early nineties. Oh, and she let me borrow her clothes.

The two years that Kim lived with us were by far the best of my teenage years. She taught me so much. Her gift of mercy is unmatched. Her heart breaks when she sees suffering. And when she sees animals. She is always rescuing and caring for them. Which is why that year we acquired a cat, Mischief, who spent the next 15 years trying to assert himself as the dominant creature in our home. (Kim hates having her picture made, but I did manage to get this shot of her behind our house one day.)

She taught me about helping. She completed her chores without complaining and encouraged (guilted) the lazy three of us into doing ours as well. Teenage years are tough. She was such a bright spot in those years for me.

We’ve come a long way since then. Although we have ditched (most of) the flannels, she is just as beautiful as ever. And she has grown into one of the most amazing women I know. I recently wrote her a letter and here is an excerpt from it:

Kim, when I think of you, I think of strength. I think of a person who lives with resolve and conviction to do what she deems right by God. I think of passion and determination. I think of a person who won’t settle. I think of a tender heart that sees His creation in a way that others do not; I see that you see the Creator through His creation. I also see a person who has been wounded and scarred by those in whom she has placed her trust. But greater than her wounds, your wounds, and greater than your scars, is the amazing love and grace you have found in Christ. What I see now is one who is learning to abide in His love and trust in His grace as she navigates the waters of today, of right now.

Kim, I admire you so much. You have taught me so much about life. You exemplify loyalty, creativity, imagination, passion, laughter, and mercy like no one else I know. Your gift set that was entrusted to you by God is so incredibly unique that His purpose for you could be fulfilled by no one else BUT you.

Kim, I love you, so much. I am a better person because you have invested in me. I know who God is better because I know you. I love people more because of having been privileged enough to know and love you. I look forward to our cousinhood throughout the rest of our life. I pray that it is filled with drip castles at the beach in the summer and Christmas in the basement in the winter and creek walks in the woods in the spring. I pray that our unique bond will carry us through the next season of life as it has thus far. I am so thankful for you.

“I thank my God every time I remember you.” Philipians 1:3

Kimmer, on this, your birthday, I pray that you feel every bit of the treasure that you most certainly are. I cannot wait to see what God has in store for the next year of your life. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! I love you!!!!

CAST

Yesterday Josiah had a stomach ache. And because my mom was in a meeting, Michael was working, and there was no one to talk me off the cliff, I was 100% sure his appendix was rupturing. I hastily put on my shoes while calling the doctor, telling the kids to get ready because we were probably going to take an ambulance ride.

The sweet nurse started asking rational questions that come from the minds of rational people, not giving any attention to my appendicitis rant.

Nurse – ‘Have any of your other kids been sick recently?’

Me – ‘Uhm. Oh, well, Zachary threw up all night Saturday and part of Sunday.’

Nurse – connect the dots, lah lah lah…. ‘It sounds like he has what Zachary had.’

Me – ‘um hmm.’ I say slowly removing my shoes.

Nurse – speaking in a very calculated manner ‘I would let him reeeest and drink lots of gat-or-ade’ nice and slow for me so I can make sure and geeet. it. all.

I struggle with anxiety. (I’ve told you that before). It’s a little battle I’ve had my whole life. When I was in 3rd grade, our family doctor told my mom I should avoid caffeine. I cried for days. When I was 8, coffee was everything. Also now. The past 25 years since have been a learning process. I have learned what coping mechanisms work, and which ones don’t. Prayer works. Allowing my mind to run wild with irrational thoughts….sort of aggravates it.

Generally, I reestablish equilibrium fairly quickly. I use my sane friends for talk therapy. I pray. I read. I surrender. There are times, though, when I roll around in my anxiety and just allow it to have it’s way with me. Enter > last Thursday. There are some unknowns in our life right now. And I was allowing those unknowns to wreak havoc in my mind, body and spirit. Ol’ ‘what if’ was spinning like a Tasmanian devil all through my mind and slowly creeped down through my digestive system, shredding it to ever-loving pieces. I was a mess. I was out of balance. Out of control.

And I was irritated with myself for having let it go so far. That monster died when I surrendered to Christ! How did it manage to weasel into my calm, rational spirit?

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. (1 Peter 5:6-10, emphasis added)

I allowed it to, that’s how. And just as I allowed it to creep inward, I had to spend some time casting it upward. After some quiet prayer time and allowing every thought to surrender to the authority of Christ, I was restored. As He promised.

Josiah shares my tendency to worry. When he got home yesterday, I had to convince him he wasn’t dying.

‘Are you sure it’s not a heart attack, Mom? It hurts right here’ (pointing to his stomach).

‘I’m sure Josiah.’ but OMG what if? Didn’t I read an article about children as young as 6 suffering from heart disease??….

Talk about the blind leading the blind.

Stop. Josiah does not have heart disease. He loves cabbage, for crying out loud and the American Heart Association.

Cast. Lord, you know the drill. My ‘sober of mind’ catapulted itself headfirst into a sea of ridiculousness. I need you to take this worry, and replace it with trust, as I am struggling in this moment.

Restored. ‘Josiah, here’s the TV remote, a gatorade, and a cold washcloth. Rest, buddy.’

Praise the sweet Lord Jesus my husband worries about nothing. Never has he told me to be careful, called when I was late, or stressed a deadline. Hopefully our children will be somewhat balanced creatures.

But if they aren’t, my prayer is that they would learn to cast their cares upon Him who is able to do immeasurably more than we could ever ask or imagine.

Even tame the cruel monster of anxiety.

SOULMATES

Recently, when I was brushing my teeth, Michael uncharacteristically leaned in very close to me, shattering my tooth brushing bubble of space, stared at my toothbrush and said,

“how long have you been using that toothbrush?”

“since I bought it a few months ago.”

“I thought that was mine.”

“It’s pink!”

‘What color is mine?’

“BLUE!”

I love being married to Michael. We’ve been best friends for 16 years, married for 9. We laugh so much. I think almost everything he says is slap you in the face hilarious. The other day he told me, ‘I hashtag at the END of my words’. Which I think is the funniest thing I have ever heard and I laughed so hard at that coffee shot out my nose. I still think he’s the hottest guy in the room. I still can’t wait until he gets home. I still melt a little when his name pops up on my phone – ‘It’s him!’

But Michael is not my soul mate.

I don’t believe in soul mates. I think that we met because we lived in the same geographical area, had a similar socioeconomic status, and several mutual friends. I think we had a mutual attraction, and we made a decision, and so on and so forth, and it’s 16 years later and we’re still choosing each other.

Because all the gush. But also…all the stuff. There are days. And you have them too, so you know what I mean. Choosing self seems so enticing. Because there are days, doggonit, when I am right. And it would feel so good to waller in that. Ok, and sometimes I do for a bit. But I usually come around, or he does. And there is forgiveness, there is seeking to understand rather than to be understood, and there is a continual melding into one flesh. There is surrender to Christ out of reverence for the covenant we made August 21, 2004.

And it is darn hard honest to goodness bone fide work.

Michael isn’t my soul mate.

I once had a friend who was in pain because of a broken heart. She was seeking. Seeking something. She was seeking, but never finding, her identity through relationships with men. She seemed so confused as to why she wasn’t able to find herself in them. And I mustered up every ounce of my infantile wisdom that I had found in Christ and said to her, “you have a God shaped hole in your heart. Christ is the only one who can fill that space.”

It was a lesson I had to learn as well. Because I don’t know how you fared in algebra, but 16 years together – 9 years of marriage = 7 long stinking years of waiting for a ring.

I don’t like to wait for things like the coffee to make, the microwave to beep, or the boyfriend to propose. Just come on already..everything! Obviously, I was impatient. And you need to know that we weren’t one of those couples who talked about marriage all the time before we were engaged. We literally never talked about it. The subject was off limits pre-proposal.

So I was in a bit of turmoil, especially that last year of ‘dating’. Finally, one day amidst the turmoil, I sensed God say in my spirit,

“Who do you desire more?”

Who, indeed. I had some serious perspective shifting, prioritizing, and soul searching of my own to do. And I am not going to tell you that God waved a magic wand over Michael to speed things up. He didn’t. Michael, my sweet tortoise, did eventually propose, and when he did I was ready. But only because I had already found my Soulmate. When I expect ‘man’ to fulfill a role only God can fulfill, man will fail every time. Because it’s not his job, as popculture would have it, to ‘complete’ me.

My soul has a mate. Your soul has a mate. It’s Jesus. No one else will do.

jesusismysoulmate#

FIRST

I was in the middle of doing two good deeds. Donating money to the Pregnancy Care Center and donating much needed bedding for incoming refugees to World Relief. I was feeling so accomplished. I had been meaning to do these things for several days and I hadn’t gotten around to it, but woah can I get some stuff done when my kids are at school. My list was long that day, and I just killed the whole thing. It was beautiful really. And orderly. And I was prancing to my car to finish my last errand before work when I was approached by a man.

‘Can you spare a few dollars? I am really hungry.’

Crap. I don’t have dollars. I never have dollars.

‘I’m so sorry, I don’t even have a dollar. I’m so sorry.’

He looked at me with disdain. Like ‘whatever lady’. He even said ‘psh’ as he walked away.

Dangit. My do-gooder bubble was officially busted.

Suddenly, I remembered my lunch! I had Josiah’s Thor lunch box full of homemade chicken-n-dumplings and green beans, which was to be my dinner. So I hurriedly unlocked the car, reached over to get the lunch and thought,

‘I wonder if I should just give him the granola bar? He has no way to heat these dumplings up (I know. Don’t even). Plus is it weird to just give him the lunch box? And what will he do with all these containers? I don’t even have a fork in here.’ My thoughts were racing at about 10,000/second.

I opted for the safe pre-packaged granola bar. Additionally, I admit, I’m a scaredy cat. This was not the best part of town. I had already scanned the area, aware of all surroundings, in broad daylight. There were 3 construction workers within spitting distance. There were two people with a phone within yelling distance. I had my keys between my fingers. Public universities ran some sort of campaign in the late 90s that trained women to fear being abducted and tortured. And because I was born nervous, I stay prepared.

This whole thought process took about 15 seconds. I turned around with granola bar in hand and my best servant smile and started to yell, ‘you can have this!’

But he was gone.

He was nowhere.

I looked all around in every direction and couldn’t see him. I got in my car and drove around and couldn’t find him.

Gone.

Gone the opportunity to serve. Gone the opportunity to love. Gone the opportunity to practice what I had literally preached just a few short weeks before.

For I was hungry and you fed me, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink…..

UGH!

I finished my last errand, and went to work. I couldn’t get a handle on this. I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t get centered even. I failed that one. FAILED. I could have taken him to get a meal. Or the safer ‘wait there, I’ll be right back with a meal.’ I could have done a number of things.

I was feeling so defeated. Like an utter failure. For several months my heart cry has been, Lord! I want to love the least of these! the way you did! the way you commanded us to! Lord, I want to love my neighbor as myself and keep your commands! I’ve been consumed with these thoughts. Consumed.

And in His infinite wisdom and abundant grace He whispered in my spirit,

First thing’s first.

What do you mean Lord?

First thing’s first.

What?

Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?

Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’

This is the first and greatest commandment.

First thing’s first.

How can I love others well if I don’t love God more? He is love.

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have [God], I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have [God], I am nothing.If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have [God], I gain nothing.

Lord,

May my human doings be replaced with my human being. May I be consumed with You, and only YOU. And then, and next, and second, and only after I am filled with your all-consuming-fire, may I love others. May I serve and love and help and witness and teach only from a heart that is so full of You, that loving others is the only possible existence. But in so doing, may I never neglect to first seek You, to first know You, to first love You.

Amen.

HIGHLIGHTS

Yesterday I posted the sweetest picture of my kids reading their library books together when they got home from school.

Aren’t they adorable? Don’t they look precious? Like they get along? Like they’re clean? Like my house is clean?

What you don’t see in this picture is the clutter that surrounded them. (You would not believe how I had to crop that photo). You don’t see the fight that ensued immediately after the picture was taken. You don’t see Zachary crying in the background or the barking dogs or the junk. So let me put your mind at ease.

What you see of my family on social media are the highlights.

You sure don’t see the post car-rider-pick-up-line-3:27 p.m. me, I can tell you that. The one who needs a cup of coffee and an attitude adjustment. The one that has sweated through her clothes because the air has been broken in the van and I have not been able to hand over the keys long enough to my auto mechanic husband so that he can fix it. When I pick up the boys these past few hot, dry-and-sunny-for-the-first-time-all-summer 88-degree afternoons, the boys are asking questions like:

Why are you wearing your swim suit in public?

Why is Zachary sweating so bad?

Is this the sun?

You aren’t going to see me post that stuff. You won’t see me post the dust bunnies, the unopened mail, the dirty bathtub, the arguing, the complaining, the looks of unrequited friendship in their forlorn faces, the purple boats, (ugh. purple boats are bad. So is being on the rainbow. So is being in the fish tank. The ~~parental-anxiety-producing-~~school behavior charts are about do me in), the foam sword fight gone wrong. You won’t see that stuff.

And that doesn’t make me fake.

The highlights I post are honest-to-goodness real life highlights. They happened. My ornery guys do love to read. That was the moment I clung to yesterday. Those are the moments I capture and remember and tear up over. The worth-it moments. The we-made-it moments. The I-can-mother moments.

Because you know they fight. You know they complain. You know they don’t get 5 smiley faces in a row (but if they do, by golly, I will post the mess out of that). You know about the dust, and the syrup-topped breakfast table, and the laundry, and the mail. I don’t share that because we all know it’s there.

So please don’t ever use social media to size yourself up to anyone. Or feel like a failure because your Pinterest project looks like trash glued together and stuck to your wall. Or that you’re doing something wrong because your kid doesn’t have a trophy. Or zero cavities. Or a pony. Or any good vacation photos. Or all. the. things. Those Facebook posts and Instagrams, and Pinterests, and Sunday-besters, are highlights. And those families have real life stuff too.

There is a difference between seeing my photos in a photo book online and a photo book on my coffee table. The pictures are the same. We still only put the highlights in the albums and the baby books and the picture frames. But pre-social media, when you looked at my photos, you were sitting on my couch in my home. You were interrupted 16 times while you looked through the album. You found out my kids are streakers. And that not only are they wildly hilarious, they are also wildly mischievous. You saw my dust. You saw my dishes. You saw my mail. You saw the the highlights and the lowlights. All of it. All of us.

Do not forsake the gathering of yourselves together….

Post your highlights. See their highlights. That’s fine. It’s not a horrible way to stay connected. But also sit in each others’ homes. Sip coffee together. Brace yourself for the lowlights and enjoy the highlights together. We were created for community. Real community that experiences life together.

My couch is comfortable. The coffee’s ready. Come and sit a spell.

HARD

I sat at the intersection in front of the school, with the 8:33 a.m. sun glaring in my window, head throbbing, tears streaming, trying to think which way to turn. Why can’t I think which way to turn? I need to get Zachary. Why is this so hard?

I suddenly remembered sitting in the floor of my van, in a Wal-Mart parking lot, nursing Zachary. Josiah was needing to go potty, Nolan was wanting to be unstrapped, my head was head throbbing, and I was dreading having to go into the monstrosity of a superstore with all three boys, ages 3 and under, and purchase a week’s worth of groceries. That was a hard day.

But not as hard as this day. Today, I dropped an uneasy 6-year-old Josiah off at his kindergarten classroom.

Are you dying with me right now about how uneasy he looks?

He didn’t want to go. He said all morning long that he wasn’t going to go and I made him anyway. I calmly and simply told him that it would be exciting, and he would enjoy his friends, and he would get to learn to read and how if he did that, he could do anything in the whole wide world that he wanted. I smiled all morning long and fixed him his favorite breakfast and talked up school like it was as awesome as the Lego shirt he was wearing.

I’m now going to confess to you that my telling Josiah I liked his Lego shirt was a bold-faced lie. I’ve already confessed to Jesus. And you should read this next line as dramatically as you possibly can.

I let my children pick out their school clothes this year.

I’m embarrassed to tell you the strength that it took for me to do that. I like to choose my kids’ clothes. So, I make school shopping a big deal. I take each child individually and we make a day of it. But finally, last year, they really got tired of my making them wear sweater vests.

How cute are they?

In an effort to make morning easier, this year I told them they were going to get to pick out their own clothes. By the second clothing item I tried to persuade them otherwise. I almost had convinced Nolan to get the shoes I liked, but Michael’s wise little voice kept popping in my head saying, ‘Let the boy pick out his shoes’. I argued with the voice, ‘they have gold on them, Michael. Gold!’

Ultimately, I let him choose. My friend (and now the mother of teenagers), Mendy, once allowed her 5 year-old-daughter to get one of those dog collar necklaces with spikes, and she turned out just fine. I’m holding onto that.

Nolan has jumped out of bed to get dressed every day, thrilled about wearing his new clothes. But Josiah’s shirt could have been laced with suckers and he wouldn’t have been ready to go to school today. Which is why I couldn’t process how I felt about it until the intersection in front of the school.

After I figured out which way to go, I turned to head down the road and I could not. stop. the. crying. Why can’t I stop this? This is ridiculous. He will be fine. It’s kindergarten. This is classic Josiah. He says he doesn’t want to do something unfamiliar, and then loves it so much he doesn’t want to leave. Camp, preschool, Vacation Bible School – same story every time.

I was grateful when the phone rang, jolting me out of memory lane. After a needed conversation with Mendy (whose 15 year-old-daughter looked adorable for school today), I had composed myself. When I got to Michael’s workplace to pick up Zachary (who was relishing in the fact that he got to ‘help’ daddy at work), his co-worker looked at me with a knowing voice and said, “how’s mama doing this morning?”

And I flat out lost it again.

And that big burly mechanic, with tears in his eyes said, “I’m right there with you. My baby drove herself to school today.”

And I thought how much harder his day was than mine. I scooped up Zachary and buckled him in his seat (even though he can do it by himself) and took him to that same stupid Wal-Mart and got groceries. Which is why when the 9-month-old baby in the buggy in the checkout line smiled at me, I cried again. His poor mother stood decidedly between us after that, since I had turned into a weepy mess and was unable to explain myself.

Zachary unloaded all the groceries for me, and when we got home, he packed his bag for preschool. He looked at me with that sweet precious little 4-year-old smile and said, “I go to school next. Right, mom?”

And I looked at him with all the seriousness and determination I could muster and said,

“Over my dead body.”

This is so much harder than getting up every two hours to feed them in the night. This is so much harder than potty training. This is so much harder than grocery shopping by myself with three boys, ages 3 and under. This is so much harder than I thought it was going to be. But it is not as hard as it will be when they drive themselves to school. Or make a choice that I know they will later regret. Or stray.

Motherhood is stretching my ability to trust in God to the absolute limits. And it is so bloody hard. The harder it gets, the more I learn to trust Him. Appropriately, school’s in session, because I learned a whole stinking lot today.

**UPDATE**:

Coats Quotes:
Me: Josiah, tell me about your day.
Josiah: It was the opposite.
Me: What do you mean?
Josiah: Remember how I said I hated that place and I never wanted to go back?
Me: Yes.
Josiah: It was the opposite of that.

#cryingagain

#OPERATIONTOGETHER

Our vacation was so epic, it was named and hash-tagged, #operationtogether. I thought it only fitting to follow-up on my post ANTICIPATION. Was it everything I dreamed it would be? Did my family align with my predictions? Well, read on. (Update in red print).

When I was little, I would get so excited about Christmas I would puke. No kidding. I would get a sick headache, as a child, and just throw up. For me, there is as much excitement in the anticipation of an event as the event itself.

It’s exactly the same for me now, as a grown up.

Soon we are headed to vacation. It’s a big one. ALL the cousins & Co. will be together in one house for one week. At the beach. The introverts in the family are nervous as all get out. And I’ve driven the relaxed people in the family mad with a series of emails, attempting to preempt any disaster like forgetting pepper.

There will be coffee, sunrise, (the sun rose all but 2 days, when it was extremely cloudy and cold). beach, repeat – daily for seven solid days. I’m giddy with excitement and anticipation. Giddy. It’s going to be so epic, I think I’m going to call it a ‘sabbatical’ on my email auto reply. The piety that ‘sabbatical’ implies makes people think twice before asking you to do something. Besides, God and I have a thing about the beach. He knows what I mean.

I am anticipating a marvelous week of reading, writing, and loving my family. Let me tell you about the company I will be keeping….

First, there is my Mom. Now, she needs this week more than anyone else. Period. And I hereby proclaim that if her iPhone rings and she even thinks about answering it, I will subsequently and immediately be forced to throw it as far into the ocean as possible. And her computer. She needs this week. She needs that great big ocean and that long sandy beach to get right down to the bottom of her spirit and settle her all the way to her core. I can’t wait to see it. To see her fingers dangle off the side of the chair, carelessly. To see her walk at a regular pace. To see her smile and linger and not rush. To see her read and sleep. To see her fuss with her beach hair, which is curly and unruly and beautiful. She. Needs. This. Week.

Here is a picture of my mom, right before I threw her iphone in the ocean.

Here she is after the iPhone was drowned.

Love you, Mommy. There is nothing like you at the beach.

Then, there is my aunt. She is as serious a beach nut as ever there was. She will park herself out there on that beach until the day is done. She’ll drink 3 cups of coffee before she gets out there, then a massive Pepsi out of a massive cup, and she will mysteriously never have to go in as long as the day lasts. She’s trained for this, if you know what I mean. She’ll sit and feed the birds, from her hands. She’ll be the only one still enough and patient enough to do it.

Here she is attempting to feed the birds. That seagull was inching towards her when there came up a storm and we had to clear off the sound quickly. There were 9 screaming children running about trying to gather their things and being peeled from the water. I’m not sure if the seagull was fed or given an anxiety disorder.

My oldest cousin is exactly like her mother. She will drag herself in from the beach at the last possible moment of the late afternoon. She’ll be sorry that the day is done. She’ll sit idly by, waiting for someone to trip (it will probably be me) on something. Then she’ll laugh so hard, she won’t be able to talk. She’ll tell everyone else about it too, calling each of us by the nickname she has bestowed lovingly upon us. Mine is Nanner. “Hey Porky, did you hear what Nanner did? ahahhhahhaaaa……Chippy or Uni, you tell it, I can’t quit laughing.” My favorite memories of her are from the beach. Where she taught me to make drip castles. We’ll still make them. And we’ll get to talk. And no matter how loud the people are, the ocean will drown out the sound enough so that we can have our own conversation.

We were able to talk. Just us. For about 2 hours. Here are ruts I dug with my feet while we talked. Treasured, precious, moments.

My sister, Keldy, will be there. She’s my sister by marriage. And I’m telling you, I don’t know how we did family vacation sabbatical without her. I wish you could see what she can do with a kitchen that isn’t hers. She will get in there, and in 10 minutes, have it make sense for us. We won’t know where plates or cereal should go until she gets there. I’m not sure what this is called on the spiritual gift inventory, but it is undoubtedly from the Lord. I’m so scared because I’ll be there 1 day earlier than she will. We’ll just have to eat donuts for every meal until she arrives.

Until Keldy arrived, the counters were FULL OF STUFF. Approximately 16 loaves of bread, 14 cartons of half-n-half, 5 pounds of coffee, 3 varieties of Cheeze-Its and 4 bunches of bananas. Keldy arrived the next day and sorted us all out. We only lacked labels… because although everything was perfectly organized, my short-term memory failed me. Every time I wanted Cheeze-Its (and let’s face it…that’s all I wanted on vacation), I looked in the cereal cabinet (the door of which was broken and fell on my left foot every. single. time). I’m limping without labels, Keldy. Limping.

Ashley will be there too. Now, I’ve always liked her, but I fell head over heals for her when we went to New York City together 8 years ago. The Pierce family was a disaster in the Big Apple. We aren’t fast paced. Like…at all. All we did was walk from one Starbucks to another complaining about how far we were from an actual beach. When she found humor in our ignorance of the subway system, the ferry system, and the bus system, I knew she was a keeper. She fit so perfectly into our family’s hilarities… and I’m pretty sure that was the weekend that my cousin, Jason, decided to propose. Am I right?

Jason will be there. And no matter what, he will be talking. To anyone or anything. We just love to talk to each other, and these pesky things called careers, kids, and home maintenance are constantly getting in the way of our important conversations…which could probably solve global warming, the marriage crisis, and all the wars if anyone would just listen.

When I was six years old, I followed Jason into the woods without my mother’s knowledge. Four of us did. We four went into the woods in search of one, who we assumed lost. We were very dramatic in our reasoning about being disobedient. “What if someone kidnapped her? We should find her. We have to find her!” Instead of telling our mothers of the alarm or waiting for them to finish their coffee, we set out. Exactly 1 foot into the woods, Jason stepped on a yellow jacket nest. We were stung from head to tippy toe. I remember walking around in only underwear and having to bathe in a baking soda bath for several days.

In a very similar act of drama, Jason, Ashley, and I set off on a walk to the sound side of the island. Instead of driving to the other side of the island like everyone else, we decided to walk. “Where’s their sense of adventure?” we said. “We have to walk!” FOR THE LOVE OF VACATION! We took off across a field with 5 of our children (Michael and Nolan were chasing a kite, the string of which had broken for the second time, and the retrieval which required my son to learn the term ‘trespassing’.) Keldy had specifically warned us not to walk through the field because of the sand spurs. Whatev. We’ll just watch where we step. (I wish the yellow jackets had entered my memory here.) Sand. Spurs. Hurt. Bad. They can also puncture straight through a flip flop. 4/5 children were in tears, and unafflicted Josiah (read: Michael Jr.) was telling everyone, “you should just ignore the pain.” 3/3 adults were punctured and sweating and holding multiple bleeding children. And although Jason has gotten us into a few sticky situations, he’s also kind of a hero. He once rescued 3 of us from a riptide. Similarly, he ran through the spurs and cacti and carried each child/wagon/stroller across the field. We’re limping because we didn’t listen to you, Keldy. Limping.

Don’t let them fool you, the little ones were just as painful.

My uncle, Eddie, will be there. He’ll wander off daily, and have a seriously unbelievable story to tell when he returns. Like, we won’t actually know whether or not to believe it unless my aunt confirms it. I thought he served in the military until I was 22. He’s likely to pick up a new hobby as well, like surfing. Or kiteboarding. Whatever it is, it won’t be coffee and conversation for 16 straight hours. He’ll find something to do.

Want to hear an unbelievable story? Well, during one of Eddie’s many excursions with my brother, Jonathan, they saw a frantic woman in a store. She was looking for a lost debit card. Eddie, moved with compassion and his gift of evangelism, prayed for her right, out loud, in the middle of the store. When he got done praying, he looked her in the eye and said “You’re going to find your debit card in the next five minutes.” (Uhmmmm…..can you say, ‘faith’?) So, upon finishing the prayer, Jonathan noticed something he hadn’t seen before, “Does your name happen to be Sandy?”. “Yes…” was her nervous reply (at this point she has to be thinking she is on candid camera). “Is that your card?” he said, pointing to a debit card on the floor across the aisle. And that is a true story. My aunt confirmed it.

Kelly will be there. And we’ll stay up until we can’t hold our eyes open, talking. Because we can. And it’s worth it to be tired and grumpy the next day to talk just a little longer, to make one more memory. Her husband, David, will be there, thinking up hilarious one-liners for all of the idiosyncratic things we all do all week long.

David and I got stuck in the 2 x 2 elevator with 22 pounds of crab legs on our way up to the kitchen to fix dinner. We busted down the door on the 2nd floor to escape. It was almost as awkward as when Ashely grabbed Michael’s derrière at Thanksgiving a few years back.

Kelly and I made it every night until at least 9:45 p.m. Vacation is exhausting. We did manage to paint our toes one night, but fell asleep so soon after, the paint got smudged.

Michael will be there. He’ll drag the kids around on the snow-sled-turned-skim-board. For hours. On. End. The ‘rope’ you see is an extension cord. (That’s the kind of thing David will comment on.) But, hey, it’s been going strong for about 5 years.

Mmmmmkay. Here’s something you’ll need to know if you ever visit the OBX. This is a raw beach. Meaning, commercialization has not yet reached every single nook and cranny. There are undeveloped miles and miles of beach. AND you can’t swim in the ocean. The rip currents are so powerful, they knock you right off your feet. Also, sharks lurk about 30 ft from the shore line. David spotted one, and the water had to be evacuated. Nolan informed me that it was a hammerhead, due to the placement of the fins. (We once had a shark book from the library, for like 3 months.) Also, there were giant sting rays. (See picture.) Ok, so there was 1, and it was dead. But still. Steve Irwin. Enough said. So, rather than risking the lives of our children, we moseyed over to the docile ‘sound side’ of the island. There, the kids could play for hours, virtually risk free. The only sea life on the sound side were some minnows and a hermit crab. Uhm, I get overly excited to see creatures in their natural habitat. I once drove down the road in nothing but a robe and a towel on my head because Ashely and Jason had spotted a bald eagle 1 mile away. It was the coolest thing ever. A real bald eagle, unclipped wings, sitting in a real tree – wild and free. It was awesome. Exhilarating. So when I spotted a large hermit crab in the sound (the kind you can buy at Myrtle Beach for $2) I shrilly screamed “EVERYBODY STOP!!! I’VE FOUND A HERMIT CRAB!!!!!! HURRY! SOMEONE GET A NET! I NEED A NET!!!!! NET!!!!” At that very moment, Jason walked over, and scooped it up with his hand so the children could see. We also saw hundreds of dolphins, moon jelly fish, several deer, bunnies, a turtle, and a sign that said ‘watch for bears’. This beach is legit.

My brothers will be there. They’ll be fully present too. Jeremy will dig a hole big enough to park a car in.

Jeremy started to dig a hole. It just wasn’t very deep. Here’s the thing: we have so many children. There are nine of them, ages 7 and under….and more to come. As fast as he could dig, children would throw sand back in said hole or see it as an invitation to slide. Mission: semi-accomplished.

Jonathan will cook. This is his meal from last year (see previous post)…. I mean…

And here it is from this year:

They don’t sell this at Costco. Sorry.

The guys will play football until they have sandburn so bad they can’t move. It will be on top of the sunburn they all have, except Jason….who will liberally apply SPF 70 every hour on the hour.

Here are the 50 shades of my face. I forgot to sunscreen my face one morning. My nose didn’t take it so well.

We’ll eat ‘Sweet 16’ powdered sugar donuts every day. Because my granddaddy started the tradition, and we will honor that, by golly.

I can’t talk about this yet without pure anguish stirring in my heart. You can’t buy Sweet 16 donuts anymore!!!! Because they were made by Hostess, they are presently not being produced. I saw today that you can again buy Twinkies. Twinkie, you disgust me. GIVE ME MY SWEET SIXTEEN!!!! Oh sure, there are inferior, bad tasting brands like Tastee-O’s. But there is nothing like our Sweet 16. I plan to sue somebody for pain and unnecessary suffering. For the honor of my Granddaddy, people!

We’ll try to set a time for dinner, bless our hearts. But we’ll be late every single day. We just will. It will be annoying, and we’ll try to figure out why. And that will take 10 more minutes. (That’s what my husband will comment on.)

We consistently ate between 6:00 and 6:30. We told everyone, every night, dinner would be done by 5:30.

All of our kids will be there. There will be screaming and crying and carrying on. It’s all part of it. I am super afraid my kids (who are oldest) are going to teach all the kids who are learning to speak words like ‘lame’ and ‘stupid’ and how to roll their eyes at adults. But Nolan said today he is most looking forward to watching TV at the beach. Whatev. It’s his vacation too. We don’t have cable at home. I honestly don’t care if they max out their screen time for the entire year. I’m going to stick them in life jackets, put snacks on a low shelf, and re-lax, my friends.

The wailing and gnashing of teeth that accompanied our 7 day trip is to be noted. For sure. Children were up between 5 and 6 a.m. daily. And daily, there were children who needed consoled. And daily, there were children who fought. And daily, there were things being hurled from the top of the steps to the bottom. And they did watch “Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas” at least 27 times. But at the end of the week, after bubbles, pool time, beach time, sugar (although not too much because of the Sweet 16 debacle), and even a 14 hour birthday party, our children responded the same to our question. “What did you enjoy most about your vacation?”

“Playing with my cousins!” they all responded.

Me too.

And at the end of the week, when we begrudgingly pull out of that drive to go back to our various responsibilities, I will be so saturated in gratitude for this precious family I won’t be able to speak. Everyone is sacrificing something to come. Money, work, time. I’ll glare out that window and try to sear every single moment into my memory, because I know how unusual it is to truly enjoy a family vacation. I’ve seen every single National Lampoon’s movie. Our vacations are exactly like that, except we all like each other.

Playing with my cousins are my greatest memories from childhood. And being with them now is a gift I treasure more and more as time goes by. It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. Someone is always in PNG, Cambodia, Africa, giving birth, or otherwise obligated. There are usually 4 or 5/6. But this week, we all six made it with families in tow. My gratitude for these people, for this week, is more than I can bear.

Thank you, Lord, for your creation, which teaches us of You. And for these people, who have shown me to love like You. May these blessings always turn back to praise.

#operationtogether

SUMMER

I normally get excited about organizing school supplies and getting new school clothes for the boys. But, whatever. It’s pencils and I’m over them. And boys back to school shopping is boring. There is only so much you can do with a t-shirt.

My woes for the end of summer are endless and more exaggerated than ever before. Before, I used to love all the seasons equally, appreciating the bonfires of fall, the fragrance of spring, the festivities of winter, and the warmth of summer. But now…. Summer. Trumps. ALL.

Fall, you can have your bonfires and programmed activities. There are too many things that have a start time with you.

Winter, your festivities are expensive and stressful. And you are dark waaaaay too early.

Spring, you are long and unpredictable. I never know if you are going to be warm and beautiful or wet and annoying.

Summer, you are my hero. You are the wind beneath my wings…what with your unrushed mornings, your pool time afternoons, your garden veggie dinners, your family vacations, your never having to match socks, your girlfriend coffee nights, your come explore the earth attitude. You and I are kindred spirits and you have spoiled me more than usual this year. You sweet thing, you.

My anxiety is elevated just THINKING about having to corral all of my children and my husband and myself to our respective locations by 7:30 a.m. – scratch that – 7:20 a.m. Why? Oh because someone thought our kids weren’t learning enough, so they made the day longer. And by longer I mean they made it start earlier. So I am losing 10 morning minutes. Morning minutes are more precious than all the gold in the world and should be regarded as such. You’ve taken my gold County School Board. One morning minute can make the difference between remembering snack, library books, lunch money and signing all those stinking papers. And I am going to have to function on 10 less of them. I can’t figure out what can go….breakfast? oral hygiene? Shoes that tie? Because there is NO WAY I can make anyone get up any earlier. I already think it cruel and usual to awake a sleeping child for any reason other than a fire. We can be anywhere by 9 a.m. But 7:20?? It’s a slow death, my friend.

Have I worried that my children’s brains have atrophied from lack of stimulation? Sure. Have I rented one too many romantic comedies? Probably. Are my kids tired of me making them swim off their energy every afternoon because we are going to get every penny out of that pool membership? They kinda are.

But the sweet and sultry air, the late sunsets, the water, the barefoot driving….all so glorious and needed. I don’t just love summer…I need it. It reestablishes equilibrium in my spirit to have breathed the ocean air and sipped sweet iced tea on the porch and eaten tomatoes from my garden. The recharge, the extended Sabbath, is what propels me through the year (and by year, we all know that means September – May).

Summer, you were just what I needed. You filled me to overflowing. You made me ready to face my upcoming demands. I hate to see you go, but I have to go to work and my children need to learn to read and add and such, so we must part ways.

I’ll just keep this image tucked into my memory (and on every screensavor that I own)…until we meet again….

ANTICIPATION

It’s exactly the same for me now, as a grown up.

There will be coffee, sunrise, beach, repeat – daily for seven solid days. I’m giddy with excitement and anticipation. Giddy. It’s going to be so epic, I think I’m going to call it a ‘sabbatical’ on my email auto reply. The piety that ‘sabbatical’ implies makes people think twice before asking you to do something. Besides, God and I have a thing about the beach. He knows what I mean.

I am anticipating a marvelous week of reading, writing, and loving my family. Let me tell you about the company I will be keeping….

My sister, Keldy, will be there. She’s my sister by marriage. And I’m telling you, I don’t know how we did family ~~vacation~~ sabbatical without her. I wish you could see what she can do with a kitchen that isn’t hers. She will get in there, and in 10 minutes, have it make sense for us. We won’t know where plates or cereal should go until she gets there. I’m not sure what this is called on the spiritual gift inventory, but it is undoubtedly from the Lord. I’m so scared because I’ll be there 1 day earlier than she will. We’ll just have to eat donuts for every meal until she arrives.

My brothers will be there. They’ll be fully present too. Jeremy will dig a hole big enough to park a car in.

Jonathan will cook. This is his meal from last year…. I mean…

The guys will play football until they have sandburn so bad they can’t move. It will be on top of the sunburn they all have, except Jason….who will liberally apply SPF 70 every hour on the hour.

We’ll eat ‘Sweet 16’ powdered sugar donuts every day. Because my granddaddy started the tradition, and we will honor that, by golly.

Good food, great coffee, endless waves, people I love….

I’m so excited I think I’m going to puke.

TREES

My attempts to solve the world’s hunger crisis have proven unsuccessful. I have about given myself a pulmonary embolism trying to figure out why there are 25,000 deaths due to starvation every single day. There are enough resources in the world to feed the world. And yet…twenty-five thousand. Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. And the next day. Why? Why is this true???

Political unrest. Power struggles. Greed. Gluttony.

I see the vast wheat and cornfields in our country. I see the well-fed population of this nation. And I gulp every time I scrape uneaten food in my compost.

Today as I explored in the woods with the boys, stopping whenever to investigate whatever, I noticed the trees. I noticed the dark rough bark of the oaks and the smooth white bark of the birches. I noticed the enormous leaves of the tulip saplings, waving about as proudly as their sisters who are towering above them. I noticed the many trees that had fallen in a long ago storm. I noticed the complex root systems intertwined along the mossy ground. I noticed the booming life in and around the trees, all sustainable by the ecosystems contained therein.

Today, I noticed the tree in spite of the forest.

And I remembered Reina.

Reina is our ‘daughter’, whom we sponsor through World Vision. World Vision understands the complexities of eradicating world hunger. They understand that if a person is starving, he should be fed. But they also understand that creating sustainability is imperative if hunger is to be tamed. Creating healthy communities which self-sustain is a greater job than simply dropping off food rations, which can create dependence. Creating healthy communities takes time. Lots of time. There is no quick-fix solution. There is no convenient answer.

It’s a forest kind of project.

It makes your head spin, your heart burn, and your stomach ache.

World Vision uses sponsorship to foster sustainability by ‘planning and working alongside community members to help build healthy communities for children’. They’re in it for the long haul. They don’t miss the forest for the trees. And they don’t miss the trees for the forest.

We mustn’t forget that within each forest, each community, are individuals. Real people with real worth and real hearts and real lives. You get to twenty-five thousand by counting one at a time. When I was pregnant with our third little boy, it seemed I could do very little from my small American town to alleviate world hunger. Child sponsorship compelled me. I began searching online. When I locked eyes with Reina through the computer screen, I was a blubbering heap on the floor. I immediately asked Michael if she could be ‘our’ daughter. (Michael cannot bear to see me cry. I never abuse this power. But I so could.)

World Vision also understands the worth of a person is fully realized when the Good News is shared with her.

‘The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.’ -Jesus

This is not justification for personal prosperity. Can we stop mishandling these words?? Having life to the fullest is not having a white picket fence and a 2-car garage. It is having life in a Living Savior. Life, when death surrounds you. Fulfillment, when hunger plagues you. That’s an abundant life. And it’s available to anyone, regardless of socioeconomic status, or cultural condition.

The tree by which I was the most intrigued today was one bent so low to the ground, it was nearly fallen. It had undoubtedly been struck by a storm. But there, coming out of the root system, were new little sprigs of bright green life. It was life among imminent death. It was hope amidst a broken, fallen world.

I hope. I hope that one day hunger will end. And I hope that those who are fed will be eternally filled with saving grace of our loving Father. And I pray that I am eternally compelled to do my part, never giving over my hope to apathy, indifference, or despair.

I hope I always see the trees, despite the great forest.