Happy Birthday

Yesterday I celebrated the 34th birthday of my husband and best friend. It was the 14th time I have been able to be a part of his special day. 14! How does that happen, and where does time go? It was a pretty normal day, certainly not filled with the birthday celebration we might have once had (before kids); dinner at a nice restaurant, a sporting event, a good movie. Instead the day consisted of work, a cheeseburger, Dylan's honor choir concert (which I MUST blog about later), and shoveled down cake before bed. Hardly glamorous or romantic. Never-the-less, it was perfectly, perfect in all of its normalcy. Logan got to decorate his cake with blue sprinkles because of the always funny joke that, "Daddy loves the Cubs"(which drives Brett crazy every time - which is why Logan loves doing it). Family shoveled in cheeseburgers and cake along side us because they were in for Dylan's concert. Piggy-back rides and giggles while we tucked the kids in, an episode of "The Office", and at the end of the day we got to drift off to sleep catching up on each other's day.

I hope it was a happy birthday, Brett, no matter how we celebrate. I hope you know just how wonderful I think you are, and how much I love you now, and always.

Valley of the Heart

I sometimes find it exhausting to attempt to write down what I am feeling. So, the following may be less charismatic than is should or than you might like it to be but I'm feeling emotionally exhausted. This weekend I had the pleasure of attending a Women's conference on the Beth Moore study called, "Loving Well". It was a great weekend with wonderful women and lots of time spent exposing "feelings". Sometimes that is hard for me to do. I related all too well when Beth said that often we know things in our head but what we know in our head doesn't always reach our heart. Only, I feel that my problem is less about my heart not knowing and more about in seasons of hurt and sadness my heart being so full of those emotions at times it forgets what I know to be true. Either way, I am thankful that I serve a God who understands my human emotions and is faithful to see me through the valley of my heart.

Raising Logan has been like driving through the mountains. I experience seasons of climbing the mountains when we feel certain that we are conquering the battle, standing on the mountain top where I feel so close to God I am certain that if I could only stretch a little further I might just reach out and touch his hand, and seasons that include a down hill slide leading to the valley. I, of course, would rather just live on the mountain top than to continue to pass up and down, up and down from one to the next. I am sure there are those of you who can and I admire you for it.

God has been working on me. I can see that He longs for something more from me. He is calling me to go deeper, and to see less valley's where Logan is concerned. In this desire for my life He has been dragging out things I thought I had put away or have been pushing down so hard I did not want to admit them. The truth is, I blame myself. I blame myself for not carrying him full term. I blame myself for his meningitis. I had a bladder infection when he contracted meningitis. A group b strep, just like the bacteria that caused his meningitis. I have never liked admitting it, but my heart weighs heavy with guilt for Logan's disability. Admitting that in a public place for anyone to read is huge for me. It makes me feel that my darkest secret is exposed for all to see. But, if I learned anything this weekend from testimony that rocked my core, it is that admitting it is the first step to letting God deal with it. So, here in this place of hurt I find myself on my knees begging God to take the guilt from me so He can use me for more. God, please, use me for You.

An OUT-of-the-home Working Mom

One of the few times in my life I knew without a doubt God was speaking directly to me was when He made the decision for me to be a stay-at-home mom. I used to be a working mom. I was a third grade teacher when Dylan was born. Then, for the first two years of his life I was a school librarian. I always felt guilty about dropping him off at day care. I hated leaving him during the day. I hated it, but it was life. It was what I did every day to do my part in making ends meet. Brett was a student at the time, a full time student, and our family depended on me heading out the door everyday. When I was pregnant with Logan, Brett was in his first year of teaching. We were finally a two income family again and the thought of going back to the days of one paycheck was enough to make us both nauseated. However, sometime right after the first of February (when I was about three months pregnant), I broke the news to Brett that God was asking us to do it again. The wonderful thing about hind-sight is that now we know why. God already knew what He had in store for our family, for Logan.

While a stay-at-home mom I always thought I would return to work when the time was right for our family. I guess I assumed it would be when Logan started Kindergarten. When Kindergarten year brought us to (another) new location, it seemed that a full time job would not be in the cards for the immediate future. However, in February I found myself in a full time maternity leave at the Middle School Library and it has turned my world up-side-down! Of course, shortly after I started working outside the home, we started packing for another move - this time just across town -, building a house, Dylan is in the middle of basketball, and Logan had a major seizure that has required MULTIPLE calls to my library with the words, "Mrs. Thompson, your son is in the nurse's office and we need you right away", or "Mrs. Thompson, Logan is sleeping again, how long would you like to let him sleep?". I really have wanted, on numerous occasions, to throw my hands in the air and yell, "God, do you not see this ciaos! A little help would be much appreciated!".

I recently vented my woes to my dear, working-mom-of-three, friend. She in turn wrote a blog on the struggles of being a working mother http://valeriepeavler.blogspot.com/2010/02/inadequacy.html
She nailed it! She nailed exactly how I am feeling! She put into words my feeling of being torn in a million directions and not being able to do any of them justice. I hate that feeling. However, her blog made me realize I'm not alone. I'm a small representation of a growing group of working mothers trying to keep it all together. It's a big job. Don't get me wrong. Being a stay-at-home mother has its struggles too. Especially when there are kids running around your feet all day and the only thing you desire is five minutes of peace and adult conversation! That's a hard job too. However, keeping the balance of work and home and kids and spouse is not a role for the weak at heart.

So, hat's off to all you working mom's who manage to keep it all together! Please, pass me along your secrets...

Another "Bump" in the Road

I have, many times, referred to Logan as my "little Charlie Brown". Charlie Brown has been described as, "a child possessed of endless determination and hope but who is ultimately dominated by a perminate case of "bad luck"". Yep, that's my Logan.

Last week while crossing the parking lot (on foot) after picking Logan up from school a car backed into us knocking Logan over into me. No one was hurt (Thanks, God) but it was pretty scary never-the-less. Then, not five minutes after we got home... he ran face first into the granite counter top in the kitchen resulting in yet another black eye. The good thing - he takes it all in stride.

My hope is that as he gets older he becomes more of a David than a Charlie Brown. Psalm 13:5-6 finds David rejoicing in the Lord while battling a long illness. "But I trust in your unfailing love, my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord for He has been good to me."

As Crazy As It May Sound

People have all kinds of noble reasons for reaching out to help those around them. My world is pretty narrow. I rarely have the opportunity to touch anyone who does not live within my four walls. Until my recent reconnection to society through my scattered substitute teaching days, I have been immersed in family life to the fullest. Maybe that is why I constantly feel the need to reach someone, in a positive way, beyond those I see every day. Maybe my reason is not so noble, but more a selfish desire to matter, or a selfish motivation of - what if it were my loved one in need. Either way, the need is real; as kooky as it may sound.

I, much to my husband and mother's dismay, always sign the back of my driver's license denoting myself as an organ donor. Obviously I hope that my need to do good happens in a way that does not require my vital organs, but if it came to that, I would want someone somewhere to benefit. I constantly contemplate joining the Red Cross. I watch the disasters going on around us and feel this overwhelming pull to go and serve and help. I have checked into the training on more than one occasion but in the end the devotion to my young family always wins out and my need to go and serve gets put on a back burner with all of the other "when the kids are older" plans. I think about adoption, a lot. I wonder if there is a child somewhere waiting just for me to have a home, and a chance at life. I have a need to help someone else, but always seem to find an excuse as to why it is never the right time; until yesterday - maybe.

Yesterday I took four cotton swabs and swiped them to the inside of each cheek. I carefully placed each swab into a return envelope marked, Be the Match. Be the Match is a registry for those willing to be marrow and stem cell donors for patience with leukemia and other life-threatening diseases. I have no idea if I will be a match, ever. I have no idea if I will get a call saying someone somewhere needs my blood stem cells or bone marrow, ever. I just know that if they do, I'll be ready. I'll be excited to have the opportunity to help. I realize that signing up for the registry is really no help in its self, but it does lay the opportunity out there.

I sign up to be an organ donar because if someone I loved needed an organ, I would hope someone, somewhere signed theirs too. I think about joining the Red Cross because if the disaster happens in my back yard, I would hope someone, somewhere would take the time to serve. I think about adoption becuase if I had to give up my child, I would hope that someone, somewhere would open their heart and take them in. I signed up on the Be the Match registry because if someone I loved needed marrow or stem cells, I would hope someone, somewhere was willing to give of their's.

So, as crazy as it may sound, I hope to help. I hope to do my part, in some small way, to make someone's life, somewhere a little better.

If you are interested in becoming a donor go to: BeTheMatch.org

Ohhhh, The Silence

Silence. You may be wondering what has kept me away. Why so long with nothing to say? It certainly has not been because there has been nothing to commemorate in the past few months. There has been lots going on in the Thompson house hold. Lots of change, lots of adjusting, lots of tears and even more laughter.

So, here's the deal:
Last year I took on writing a column for the Shelbina Weekly. I enjoy writing, journaling, and recording, but often felt I could not be as personal as I wanted with what I put in public print each week. The articles I was producing for the paper did not seem personal enough to post to my family blog, and the things I wanted to say on my blog took a back seat to the weekly deadline. Bottom line; I wasn't making time to balance both.

Last week was my last week as a newspaper columnist. I hung it up after a short career (if you can call it that when there is no pay involved) in public writing. I gave it up for a number of reasons...

The result will hopefully be; more blogging. Much, much, much, more blogging! Here's to breaking the silence!

Godspeed. Sweet Dreams.

I had the privilege of photographing one of the most beautiful weddings I have seen this past weekend. Everything about the day had been meticulously thought out; from the smallest details to the biggest, each in its own perfection. I love being a part of that most monumental day in people’s lives, because it is so easy to get caught up in the roller coaster emotion that accompanies it; the joys of new beginnings and the sorrow of certain change. As a future mother of the groom, God willing, I am always a little choked-up during the mother/son dance at the reception. I am intrigued at the choice of song by each groom and left wondering about the story behind it. However, this groom and his choice of song took the cake, so to speak, and left me slightly misty eyed. Maybe you have heard the ballad made famous by the Dixie Chicks titled, “Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)”. I had not. The lyrics sing like this:

“Dragon tales and the "water is wide", pirate's sail and lost boys fly. Fish bite moonbeams every night, and I love you. Godspeed, little man. Sweet dreams, little man. Oh my love will fly to you each night on angel’s wings. Godspeed. Sweet dreams. The rocket racer's all tuckered out. Superman's in pajamas on the couch. Goodnight moon, we'll find the mouse, and I love you. God bless mommy and match box cars. God bless dad and thanks for the stars. God hears "Amen," wherever you are, and I love you. Godspeed, little man. Sweet dreams, little man. Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings. Godspeed. Sweet dreams.”

Before I became a mother I always pictured myself having daughters. I thought about how I would buy all the pink adorable clothes their closets would hold. I thought about how one day they would grow up and I could teach them about boys, basketball, hair and make-up. I saw myself planning big elaborate weddings and picking out the perfect dress. I really never imagined God would give me boys. In general, I am an impatient person. I don't like to have to wait for anything. It is a personality flaw that our fast-paced society feeds to. So, when I knew I was going to have a baby, there was never a question as to whether I would wait to find out the sex. I knew from the start that as soon as the ultra-sound technician knew, I wanted to know. I remember lying on the table in anticipation of the words, "It's a girl!”. Of course, they never came. Instead I had to begin to think in blue. I grew up with a younger brother, so I knew about little boys. I knew that they love to get dirty and hunt and fish and do all sorts of other "guy-like" things. I knew they were wonderful in their own way. For instance, my brother was the funniest person I knew growing up, and he would have protected me and stood up for me no matter what. But, until God gave me boys, I always thought I wanted girls.

As I snapped the shutter again and again, capturing the moment of the dance, and the words of the song resonated through the reception hall; I was reminded that even though I thought I wanted to be the mother of girls, God had blessed me abundantly with my boys. I pictured myself not buying the dress, but instead dancing hand in hand with the men my boys will become. I thought about how the time between the bedtime rituals and last dance nuptials will come and go all too soon. While I used to fear muddy shoes, empty butter dishes filled with insects, Peter Pan swords, and hunting obsessions, I realized that all too soon I will trade them for varsity squads, college dorm rooms, career choices and a groom’s tuxedo. I suddenly had a deep need to be home tucking in those little men while they are still little; wishing them Godspeed and sweet dreams.