Don't Wait

In the last few years, when I hear that someone has died – anyone -- old, young, tragic or expected – I automatically think, “I wonder if they knew Jesus?” or “I HOPE they knew Jesus!”

That was the case yesterday when I heard that a colleague of Brian’s died in a plane crash. The man was piloting a plane for he and his daughter (a twin) – coming home from a Fall break vacation.  I had three thoughts that went through my mind so fast! 

The first took my breath away – thinking of the wife and other twin son that are left behind to figure out how to live life without their other halves.  In an instant, our lives can be upended. We think we have a routine or some idea of how today or tomorrow might go and then BAM!!!! A new normal. Nothing’s EVER the same. Pray for those terribly heartbroken souls! Pray hard.

My second thought was like I suggested: I wonder if they knew Jesus? Because, the reality is this: if they did, they are dancing in His presence as I write this. And I believe the Bible when it says – there is no more sorrow, no more pain, no more tears and they won’t even need the sun because Jesus will shine more brightly than we can imagine!  What a sight.

Here’s my third thought that threw me in a tailspin:  when am I going to move that eternity-changing question to the front of my conversations with people?

“Hi! My name is Kristin. Do you know my friend, Jesus? If you don’t, would you let me tell you about Him?”

Now, by this time, I’ve lost ¾ of you. I’m afraid some Christians (and probably me many times) have given Jesus a bad name. I lose my cool. I judge. I compare. I even swear sometimes. (Please don’t tell my mother.) I gossip. I jump to conclusions. I’m so selfish, it’s a wonder there’s room to breathe in my house sometimes.  But see, my friend Jesus, is NONE of those things!  I screw up a lot!!! But Jesus does not.

He loved me so much (even in my most dirtbag moments) that he gave everything SO THAT I could live with him forever. If you’re waiting for the God of the Bible to judge you, to punish you, to shake his finger at you – then you’ve gotten a skewed version of His story. And I’m so , so sorry if I was part of that bad retelling.

I’ve got to tell you. I have two sons whom I adore as much as a human could adore another thing. And I WOULD NEVER LET YOU HAVE THEM!!!  But, this Jesus…he willingly obeyed his Daddy to save me. To save them. To save you. SO THAT – we could live with Him forever. All of us. Forever.

I know there are a LOT of religions in the world. And I respect so much those who are trying to find their way. But how many of them have a God who gave their only son to take our many, many failings and redeem them into a beautiful life of sacrifice and service and LOVE – above all, love?

Christianity actually repulses some. And I really get it. I heard some stories from some Jesus-followers that make me want to turn another way. But I believe they had the wrong story teller. Jesus is a God of compassion and grace and forgiveness and love – above all, love. If you’ve never heard THAT part of the story…

Hi. My name is Kristin. Can I take a few minutes and tell you about my friend, Jesus?

I Wanted to Scream: YOU DON'T UNDERSTAAAAAAND!!!!

I'm kind of a stickler about seat belts. Ask my friends and they'll tell you I don't bend the rules much when it comes to who sits in the front, which kid is in which forward-facing, lap-belted or latched booster or highback seat with or without headrest.  It matters. It's important. It can save my babies if we're in a terrible accident.

My kiddos and I have spent many, many hours in the car in their young lives between traveling to visit out-of-town family, to and from Granddaddy's doctor appointments and our many fun outings too.  They know the seatbelt drill so well that I sometimes laugh when Brian hops in to drive and asks, "Is everybody buckled?"  Of course they're buckled....they've been buckling since they were born.

So when a lady saw Ava out of her seat belt in our Excursion this morning, she rolled down her window to flail her hands and yell at me "to get those kids in seatbelts!!!!!"  I kind of came unglued.  We were on the highway by then, so I couldn't yell back my side of the story. I find that some of my most anxious, angry or heartbroken times in my life are when I feel like I'm doing the absolute best that I can and it's still not good enough for...fill-in-the-blank....Brian, my kids, myself or the lady in the van behind me.

If I had time to flail my hands and scream back, I would've said something like this:

Thank you for showing concern, but you don't know the rest of the story.  You see, we have a recently adopted son who occasionally gets aggressive while he's in his car seat and will lash out at whoever sits next to him.  After he repeatedly smacked, hit and pulled the ponytail of my 7-year old daughter, I finally told her (while we were at a full stop at a red light,) to climb to the safety of a back row seat. 

That's what the lady saw. But there's so much more to life than what we see. People, sometimes you just need to say, "I'm sure they're doing the best they can." Or, if you must intercede, could you please start with, "Can you tell me the rest of your story?"

So that lady did teach me a lesson today. It just had nothing to do with seat belt safety.

More listening. Less screaming parenting advice from the window at 35 MPH.  Point taken.

Mama's Version of "I Spy"

I just laid little Yobie down for a much needed nap. Though I'm pretty sure I needed it as much as he did. As I begin my usual struggle with ought vs. want, I begin my own version of "I Spy."

I spy the coin jar that's still on the floor from digging out popcorn money for the kids this morning. I ought to put that away.

I want to read my book.

I spy the wrestling t-shirt and medal still laying on the table from this Chase's nightly wrestling camp this week, plus a stack of library books. I ought to put those in his room.

I want to take a nap.

I spy the kitchen floor that's needed a good mopping for a few days now. I ought to sweep and mop it.

I want to take a long, hot bath.

I spy half a dozen miscellaneous toddler toys and books strewn about the foyer, living room and kitchen. I ought to put those away.

I want to have a cup of coffee and some of my Aunt Betty's peanut butter fudge with a friend. ANY friend.

I spy my own stack of books on this end table: a Bible and a devotion book. I ought to spend some time there.

I want to WANT to spend more time there.

I could go on with all the oughts -- dishes in the sink, a pile of mated socks on my bed, five days' worth of mail stacked by the computer, four boxes of Christmas decorations looming just outside the storage room door, piles of other things looming just INSIDE the storage room door blocking the way for previous boxes, garage needs to be swept, and the front walk needs to be shoveled. 

The list of oughts is long, varied and never-ending. My list of wants rotates among the aforementioned items and also is never-ending.

If you're hoping this ends with something profound, you'll be disappointed. 

I COULD say, "Inch by inch, everything's a cinch." Putting a few things away will make a big difference.
I COULD say, "If I spent time with Jesus, then everything else will fall into perspective."
I COULD say, "Nap now while you have the chance."  The rest will still be there when you wake up.

The truth is, I spent some time on Jimmy Fallon facebook page and actually smiled a little to myself and even laughed out loud a time or two. Just keeping it real, people!

And now I hear the baby.

Arnold Memory Book 2013

Click here to view the 2013 Arnold Memory Book.

Here's hoping you'll be a part of our 2014 year in review!

Christmas Traditions

In my elementary-school years, I could set a clock by our Christmas traditions. (Go back to a favorite memory of delivering presents with my Dad here.) On Christmas Eve, we spent the afternoon at Grandma and Grandpa's (where the tree had large, multi-colored lights), then off to 5:00 children's Mass at St. James.  Then we'd spend the rest of the evening just across the street at my mom's parents' (where the tree always had silver icicles!) I'll always remember the peppermint sugar sticks Mom Elmore put in a fresh orange as a treat.  Then the next morning, we'd find that Santa had come and we'd have to open up quick and then clean up quick before both sides of the family came to have a country ham breakfast and spend the day at our home. 

Now that I have my own children and we don't live so close to the grandparents, we've come up with our own traditions. (Mostly stolen ideas from friends!)  For one thing, Santa brings the kids a box of super-sweet, sugary cereal each year -- one of their favorites! Another is that we let the kids sleep in our room on Christmas Eve. They think it's really fun, but we really do it to keep them all in one spot so we can go in for surprises together. I don't want to miss ONE look of joy! I remember sitting on the steps when we were young waiting for Mom and Daddy to get their coffee before we were allowed to go in the living room. I've kept this part of Christmas intact!

We have other traditions, but I recently stumbled upon a writing assignment of Sammie's on this very topic.  I'm so happy that these have found meaning to her already. Enjoy a couple of other traditions in her own words. I know I did!

Holiday Traditions

Every Christmas, we have our own special traditions. the first tradition is every Christmas Eve, we always have yummy Chinese food. We get sweet and sour chicken, steamed dumplings and kung pao chicken. It's a fun tradition because it's delicious.

Another fun tradition is we hide the pickle. We hide a lime-colored glass pickle ornament in the tree and whoever finds it first gets to open the first present. Families around the world have made this tradition for many years. A couple of my friends said they do this every year too. It's very interesting and fun to see who finds it.

The last tradition is we put baby Jesus in the manger. In our large nativity set, there's a dirty manger for baby Jesus. Before the Christmas holiday, we wrap Jesus up and put him under the tree. On Christmas morning, the youngest in the family gets to place him in the manger. This is a valuable and precious tradition because it represents our families Christian religion.

As pleased as I am that she loves these things. I hope that being with family is the most important and meaningful tradition of all.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Eyob's American Name is Joseph

It took some discussion for us to decide on it, but there it is: Joseph.

It’s a family name on both sides of the family for one thing. I LOVE that!

And for another, like Eyob (which means Job, as you may recall) it’s a very solid Bible name.  In fact, the very morning after we had discussed Joseph as a possibility, I ran into a friend. I’d been lamenting about some traumatic adoption stories I’d read – if I haven’t mentioned, adoption is a broken process in so many ways. She came to tell me she’d been thinking about me and wanted to encourage me with a story from the Old Testament. You guessed, the one about Joseph.

You see after the gorgeous coat and before he was named second in command in all of Egypt, he’d undeservedly landed in jail. But when he had the chance to talk about that time what Joseph said was, “Evil was planned against me, but God used those plans for the good.” I’m not one to get all goose-prickly, but I did in that moment! It’s one of the BEST stories of the Old Testament. Take a look, if you’ve never read it.

Since Sammie was little, Joseph and his coat of many colors has been a favorite story in our home. (Thank you, Donnie Osmond.) 

Also, I find it interesting as we come upon this Christmas season to remember that Jesus’ earthly father was named Joseph.

I had the joy of singing a duet at a Christmas Eve service a few years back. I had heard the song “Mary, Did You Know?” plenty of times before. This songs mixes that favorite with one I hadn’t heard called “It Wasn’t His Child.”  Julianne Hough and Phil Vassar recorded it several years ago -- Youtube it for yourself – it’s so worth it. But here are the lyrics for that part of the song – maybe you can see why it touched me so then and now:

He was her man, she was his wife.

And late one winter night, he knelt by her as she gave birth.

But it wasn’t his child.

And still he took him as his own,

And as he watched him grow, he brought him joy.

He loved that boy,

But it wasn’t his child.

It wasn’t his child.

Like a father he was strong and kind,

And I believe he did his best.

It wasn’t easy for him. He did all he could.

He grew up with his hands in wood.

And he died with his hands in wood.

It was God’s child.

The blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will live again.

The lame will leap, the dumb will speak the praises of the lamb

He was her man, she was his wife.

And late one winter night, he knelt by her as she gave birth.

But it wasn’t his child.

It was God’s child.

If you’ve never read that story, it’s one of the BEST stories in the New Testament. Then, read the rest. It has a great ending.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

  

30 Short Days

30 of the shortest, long days of my life. 

Someone asked me last night if Eyob (long e, long o) was transitioning well. Maybe I’m being naïve, but I think he’s doing great, given that a month ago he left a couple dozen people he’d spent his whole life with. Part of me is just waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. In the meantime, I’m just trying to soak up the joy he’s brought into our home. We’ve laughed so, so much since he came home.

As for his adjustment, I guess ask me when he’s 15 or 25 or 45. We’ll know better then.

For now, I can tell you briefly what the first 30 days have been like. The transition so far has looked like this:

From screaming bloody murder in the bathtub to splashing like a fish.

From crying non-stop in the carseat to peaceful rides (mostly).

From running from siblings to arms open wide for a quick pick-up.

From clinging to mom constantly to asking sister to turn on the singing Christmas ornaments.

From staring blankly when we asked questions to signing "please", "thank you", "more" and "all done"! He even waves a greeting, if you don't scare him too much. 

From no words at all to "eat", "up" and "hot". And some swear he's trying to say “sissy.”

From eating only baby oatmeal to begging for my potstickers.

From being terrified of outside to pulling brother to the door to play in the snow.

And my favorite:

From bearing 1,000 mommy kisses to puckering up and leaning in all on his own.

Sigh.