Getting Therapized

Week two has come and gone! This post goes from light to heavy in a few short paragraphs. That’s how I do.

The girls started school on Monday at a lovely bilingual school that is literally behind our apartment. The teachers and administration have been so kind to us. Our girls had a rough start, crying hysterically some days. But someone was always there to take their hand and calm them down. Olive informed me that she likes going with Miss Pam because she gets band-aids or candy. Clementine’s teacher commented on how well Clementine speaks and how she talks much more than Mexican children typically do at this age. This could be similar to saying one’s child is “lively” (translation: hyper) or “curious” (translation: disobedient). I’m picturing Clementine walking around just narrating the whole day and throwing in things like, “Miss Ruth. This is a choking hazard” in her little squeaky, punctuated voice. Miss Ruth did say that she is excited to learn more English from Clementine. :)

On Wednesday we attended our second meeting with the core team of Vereda (the church). BTW, I’m just calling it The Church because no matter how many times I practice saying Vereda, no one understands. Anyway, we prayed at the end and someone was praying for our girls, that they would transition well, etc. I was of course crying because it’s been quite the emotional week, but I was also thinking “I really need to talk to Karen afterwards about coming over soon.” (Karen is here volunteering with The Well for a few months. She is an Art Therapist, which puts me in a unique position—I love therapy but I loathe art. Oh the drama.) Immediately after the prayer Karen looked at me and said “Can I come over today?” Seriously amazing. It was just what I needed. During our informal session at our dining room table, our first “project” was to draw a bridge. No problem. Two lines with some water underneath and BAM!

Masterpiece. (Karen had LOTS of questions about this. I’m not sure why…). On the opposite side of the table, this is what Alan was creating. 

It’s okay. We talked about our bridges for a while and got therapized (this is not necessarily a clinical word, but it’s what happens). Our next task was to draw a door and then draw what is behind the door. Alan and I drew the same door (our old door at 444 N. Water St.) but I left mine blank inside and Alan did not. Through many tears we talked about how moving here has been similar to how life was after Olive was born. Let me explain.

I never once thought I’d struggle with being a mom. I babysat all the time, I’m decently intelligent, and I have a teaching degree. All of that says that I’d make the perfect mom! When Olive was born, my world was rocked for several weeks. And when I’m not sleeping, several weeks seemed like an eternity. I didn’t “fall in love” with her right away, I didn’t look into her eyes in the middle of the night during the third feeding in 6 hours and think of how lucky I was. Many people would say things like “Isn’t this the best stage?” “How sweet that this baby is so dependent on you” and “I bet you’re loving being a mom!” The answer was no, you can’t be serious, and no, respectively. I tried confiding in someone once but they looked at me with a really confused look and that’s when Shame crept in.

It was the first time in my life I ever felt paralyzed by fear. I would sit on the couch all day, not eat, cry because I loved her so much, then cry because I wasn’t sure if I loved her enough. I was so afraid to mess up—mess HER up—that I just couldn’t move. I was longing for someone to understand.

One day, I got an email from a friend of a friend who I had met once or twice. I was sitting in the parking lot of Panera reading her email with tears streaming down my face. How did she know that this was exactly what I needed? Her email said lots of things, but the gist was, “Hey, you could be Superwoman and be doing fine with Olive. But in case you’re not Superwoman, I want you to know that you’re not alone and you’re okay.” This was the beginning of becoming un-paralyzed. That day, when I felt so alone, so much shame, and was wondering where God was, I found out He was right there. In the form of a not-yet-friend, someone who was bold enough to put herself out there, with the possibility of me rejecting her help, He was there. I am so thankful she was brave because now she is one of my dearest friends and truly was an answer to prayer.

Fast forward to now. This new change, new life, new routine has left me feeling a bit paralyzed. So afraid of messing up, I’ve been still. I recognized it this time, though, and knew that it felt familiar. I knew that the longer I sat still (mentally and physically) the worse it would get. So I’ve forced myself to move, which has been good. But, even still, I was longing for someone to understand, and wondering where God was. And in the form of a just-met friend, someone who followed the inclination inside to invite herself over so we could chat, with the possibility of being rejected, He was right here all along. Grateful is an understatement.

The truth is, He is always right here—right there, with you—it’s just a matter of recognizing it. His ways are mysterious, His love is unending, and His grace is overwhelming. He is there. He is here. He has not left you or me. Ever. And sometimes, you are that answer to prayer that reminds someone that God is here.

- M

Bienvenidos a Mexico!

After almost 18 months of planning and preparing, we are here! Alan has been here for just about two weeks; the girls and I have been here for one. We flew down last Friday, and in all, traveled about 14 hours by the time we got to our new home. Olive and Clementine each only slept for 5 minutes that entire time—seriously. They did so well traveling to the airport, on the plane, during our layover, in the immigration line, waiting for baggage, in the customs line, and on the hour drive home.

The girls shared a room for the first few days because we had some extra people staying with us, and bedtime was a nightmare! Every night it took at least an hour for them to finally stay in the room and go to sleep; some nights we had thunderstorms, which kept them awake even longer. Now, they are each in their own room and bedtime is just like it used to be—peaceful.

Clementine keeps asking to “go home” and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t mean our new one. Olive prays that we’ll have a good flight home—she might think we’re on vacation. Mostly, though, they are adjusting really well. They will start school on Monday, which will provide them with a routine and some normalcy. Olive has been asking everyday since we’ve gotten here if it’s time for her to go to school yet. She has been super excited…until she found out about the uniforms. For anyone that knows her, you know not to mess with her fashion sense. Her uniform is a white polo, jeans, and black (close-toed) shoes. Could it be any more opposite of what she loves to wear?! Flip flops, tiny shorts, and tank tops. This may be the most severe culture shock she’ll experience!

Alan found an apartment back in August when he was here with the young adult team, and it is perfect! It’s on a quiet street, it is relatively spacious, and it’s near one of the best taco places around :) We’ve spent most of our week hanging out in our apartment, waiting for things to be delivered or for people to come to repair things. Today should mark the last day of all the waiting—the Internet has been hooked up!

Though many things are still the same, life can be really different at times. There’s the language thing, for starters. We know enough Spanish to communicate, but not enough to sound intelligent. I’ve had several encounters where I understand what is being said, but I just can’t form the words to respond. Super frustrating. However, everyday I learn something new and that’s progress I suppose.

Another difference is feeling accomplished. With the daily schedule, the traffic, and the long (at least 2 hours) lunches, we were told to feel good if we get one thing done each day. THAT has been tough. Normally our calendar had multiple things on one day—appointments, meetings, dinners, small group, etc. So far, our day will have one thing—Washer/Dryer delivered between 12 and 8pm, for example.

Food shopping has also proved to be challenging. We’ve eaten so.many. quesadillas because that is one thing I know for sure that I can make! It takes more time and more travelling to several stores/markets to find foods that I know how to cook. And, our stove didn’t work for the first few days, so whatever could be made in a toaster oven was our meal.

It’s been strange, too, relying on Alan to take us places, since I have not braved driving yet. If I need something, I can’t just hop in the car and get it. Well, I guess I could, but I haven’t gotten there yet. Babysteps. Alan has done SO well driving. I’m completely confident in his abilities to get us to and fro.

What’s ahead, you ask? We will be joining the leadership team of Vereda right away and I’m sure in a week or two Alan will be helping with the music for the weekend service. Our language classes begin in two weeks or so and will take up our mornings. Since we’ve committed to being here at least 2 years, we feel that we can and should take our time in transitioning. We don’t want to overfill our plates, survive on the little language skills we have, or neglect our girls.

If you’re praying for us—thank you. It means so much to us! If you think of it, please pray for the transition to continue to go smoothly, especially for the girls at school.

- M

Unconditional Love

I'm not sure I know the first thing about it. I don't get it. It's so easy for me to miss loving others because I'm so worried about my self. It's easy for me to see the speck in a friend's eye and completely miss the log in my own eye. It is easy for me to love my friends and almost impossible to love my enemies (those who have hurt me, those I don't understand, those I'm jealous of, those who get under my skin, those people I just don' t like). Have you ever tried to sincerely pray for your enemies? Not a prayer of damnation, either, a prayer of blessing and peace. Not easy.

Living a life like Jesus goes against all of my gut reactions. Every single one of them. I read the following sentence in an article a few weeks ago and it has literally changed me. The irony is that it was an article posted by a friend that was meant to point out how wrong an entire group of people were, and instead it pointed out how wrong I am. For once I saw the log in my own eye instead of the speck in another's. Sort of a miracle. "...the central tenet of Christianity as it has come down to us is that we are to reach out when our instinct is to pull inward; to give when we want to take; to love when we are inclined to hate; to include when are tempted to exclude." (Mark Osler) In short, we are to choose love every time, and it will cost us. It will cost us our comfort, maybe our "rights", it will take time, it will make us think.

It doesn't fit within our culture to respond this way. As an American, I have rights. There is justice for when I am wronged. I am encouraged to be happy, and remove any unhappiness from my life, even if it's a family member or spouse. I am told that forgiving someone over and over again is being an enabler. It's recommended that I carry a weapon, or mace at the least, so I can hurt anyone who tries to hurt me. I'm told to be careful when helping people--they'll just want to take advantage of me and could possibly put me in a bad position. Being independent and self-sufficient is seen as smart and successful; living in community and relying on others is seen as socialism. I see the value in a lot of these statements, but I also see how they contradict the teachings of Jesus.

When I read the Bible, specifically the parts when Jesus was here on the earth, I'm dumbfounded by his unconditional love for all people. The example that has been in my head for weeks now is The Last Supper. The symbolism of giving thanks, breaking the bread, and drinking the wine is sacred. It is a holy act of remembrance and reverence for the Savior to All. And at that supper, Jesus graciously invites everyone to partake. EVERYONE. Even Peter, who would deny him three times. That's betrayal, friends. Ever been betrayed? Ever been let down by someone? Jesus knew about this already and yet he broke the bread and drank the wine with him, and most importantly, invited him to do so. 

EVERYONE. Even Judas, who helped murder him. Could you forgive someone who was an accomplice in murdering you or a loved one? Could you invite them into your home, sit at the table with them, and break bread with one another? Could you do all that with love in your heart? I couldn't. I can't even hang out with someone who doesn't recycle let alone with someone who is helping others kill me! (That was a joke about the recycling. Sort of.)But isn't that what the love of Christ is supposed to do to us? Make us go huh?? It should be baffling and overwhelming. It should have us scratching our heads. The love of Christ should make those who don't know it, curious, not angered.

I think of the response of the Amish families to the Nickel Mines shootings--their sincere forgiveness had the world and the media baffled; I think of the response of the man who was mugged in a Subway station by a teenager--when his wallet was taken he offered his coat, too. And then dinner. (more here) This was an unexpected response. In a world where our rights and  freedoms seem to trump many teachings from scripture, it's hard to imagine what unconditional love looks like.

I don't know how to love like this, but I want to. I want to give grace to others; I want to believe the best and not assume the worst; I want to listen more than I speak (THIS is laughable to those who know me!); I want to love, with no strings attached. I have a long way to go on all of these. Everyday I can make a choice to remember the love and grace and forgiveness I have received and to extend it to others. Everyday I can make progress, baby step progress. But only by the grace of God. And that grace truly is amazing.

- M

Donde Esta My Brain???

Every year I buy a planner--this year's was the planner the for Moms Who Do It All--and I have such high hopes of using it. Needing it. January-February are usually filled up; March-May have a smattering of entries. By June--nothing. I so badly want to need a planner--kind of like when I was younger and wanted braces so bad that I regularly unbent a paper clip and delicately laid it across my teeth, spending several minutes contouring it to the shape of my mouth, and then leaving it there while I talked to everyone. I was pretty sure that it looked real. And by "pretty sure" I mean I was 100% convinced it fooled everyone. I don't know if I want to feel important or just feel like a grown-up (in my mind a planner=adult) or just admire my handwriting, but in the incorrect word of a former boss, irregardless, I would just like to depend on a planner. It's just that I don't forget appointments. I remember dates and numbers--kind of in a creepy way. I can rattle off birthdays, addresses, and other-information-I-shouldn't-know-about-you. So I just don't have a need to write it down.

Until this week. I overlooked THREE scheduled things this week. This is unprecedented. This doesn't happen. That makes me wonder: where is my brain?!

It could be that between getting too much sun last week on vacation and trying to decide how to fit our life into 10 pieces of luggage that will fly to Mexico in less than 3 weeks, I just don't have room for anything else! Maybe my wish will come true--I may actually need to start writing things down! A Christmas miracle in July!

Really, though, the task of packing up our house--the house we've spent almost 8 years in; the house we brought our babies home to; the house where ice used to form on the inside of the windows because we had to keep our heat so low; the house where we haven't had a working downstairs bathroom for 2 1/2 years (God bless Alan!); the house that at some point or another contained the following rogue animals: a bat, a bird, several mice, thousands of ants, dozens of oriental roaches, and 2 opossums in the backyard (R.I.P, buddies)--is overwhelming at times. 

At first the excitement of moving outweighed the sadness of leaving. Now, as our moving day approaches (we settle Sept. 7), sadness is creeping in. It's sad to take down all our pictures and pack them away. It's hard sifting through kitchen equipment and deciding what I can live without for now. It's sad knowing someone else will get to enjoy this house and make their own memories here. 

This move isn't a "trip"; it really is a new season of our lives. Even if we only stay in Mexico the two years we've committed to, we won't be moving back to the same house. We won't have the same jobs. Our kids won't play with the same toys they are playing with now. It will all be different--we will hopefully be different. And so much of that is good! 

Though change is good, for me, it has required some "grieving." The same kind of grieving that happened when we had Olive. Not because there was something wrong with her or I didn't like her, but because being a mommy was brand new for me and completely overwhelming. It represented a new season of life, which required saying goodbye to the previous one. I went through a time when I grieved my former life (read: the life where I felt confident and capable and rested) in order to thrive in my new, totally unfamiliar role (read: the role in which I felt the opposite of all the adjectives listed in those other parentheses). Once I accepted that life would be different, I felt like I was finally able to be present. And when I was present, I was able to learn and grow and become confident in being a mom to my firstborn. And most importantly, I was able to find new joys about this season of life and not just focus on all the things I missed. And it turns out, I can't even remember much about life pre-kids, because life is just that good now. Had I never properly said goodbye to my independent, kid-free life, I fear I would be discontent and maybe even a little resentful and miss out on the beauty of life. Kind of like those people who always refer to the "good 'ol days"...

I don't want to be in the good 'ol days--I want to be here, in the present. I want to live today.  I want to savor these last two months of living in farm country, getting together with friends and family, and making memories with my girls. I am remembering to appreciate the fact that I am considered competent here in the U.S., because in a few months I will be utilizing my toddler-sized-Spanish-vocabulary along with lots of hand motions and I'm pretty sure I won't be taken too seriously. I don't want to shove the sadness inside, but I don't want to wallow in it either. When moments of sadness come in this process, I want to acknowledge them and cherish what I have now. Because the life I have now is pretty amazing.

And just like I found my way as a mommy, I'll find my way in this season too. Hopefully with a lot less poop and pee and a lot more delicious tacos.

- M

May 2012 Recap

So much has happened this past month. We wanted to quick give you an update on some of the events that occured.

May 3-7: Alan spent a few days down in Mexico City with Josh and the team, you can read about it and see pics on our here.

May 19: Alan's family, and many of the people of NorthPointe Community Church held a yard sale to benefit our move. First, the fact that several families donated their items to benefit us instead of themselves was truly humbling. Second, the yard sale was held at Alan's parent's house, which is probably a mile or 2 off of any main road--it's literally in the woods. The amount of traffic we had was incredible! And finally, the amount of "man hours" that our dear family and friends put into this was so sacrificial and generous and we are really thankful. In total, we sold more than $1,000 worth of items, and were also given over $500 in donations!

May 19/20: We were officially announced as missionaries at Worship Center. It was an emotional weekend for us--sharing our story, Alan leading worship, and connecting with so many of our church family after the service and hearing their words of encouragement and support. If you didn't get a chance to be there, you can view the service online here.

In that weekend alone, God provided through our church family over $2,500 in one-time gifts, and 25% additional monthly support! It was such an overwhelming and humbling experience for us.

May 30: We had the opportunity to share at Drive 78 (7th & 8th graders) about our journey, and encourage them to be looking even now for the steps God is asking them to take, even at such a young age. We shared with them about The Well, and the girls there. We gave the students an opportunity to stay after the service and write a note to the girls at The Well. It was cool to walk back into the room and see several dozen students giving up their hang-out time to write a word of encouragement to the girls! One young man came up to Alan and said he felt God asking him to do something, but didn't know what to say in a letter. He then handed Alan $20 he had earned at his summer job and said, "I feel very blessed. I hope this will make a difference." It will--God is always just asking for our obedience, and when we obey, it surely makes a difference!

Loving the Unlovable

It all started around 3am. Clementine woke up calling for me, but because Alan doesn't actually ever fully wake up during the night, he is assigned nighttime duty for the girls. If I wake up, I can't get back to sleep, and will just lie awake for hours, and then have a pounding headache in the morning because my body is high maintanance and needs exactly 8 hours of sleep each night. It's better for everyone if Alan tends to the girls since he never really wakes up he can go right back to sleep. Well, maybe it's not the best case scenario for our kids, but they're resilient, remember? Alan went to Clementine's room and she was not satisfied with him. By "not satisfied" I mean she was screaming hysterically for me with no calming down. I went in because I just couldn't see the situation getting any better with a half-asleep husband and a fully hysterical toddler. She calmed down immediately, and I put her back to bed. I however, could not fall asleep. She woke up 2 more times, then Olive woke up once because she was cold. I finally went back to sleep around 5:30, but broken sleep just isn't the same.

I tried to tell myself it was going to be a great day. Well, it's NOT been a great day. Olive has been acting not like herself--quite clingy, demanding, crying. I woke up feeling very overwhelmed, almost discouraged, about all things Mexico. Turns out that when I feel overwhelmed or discouraged, writing is great therapy. It's really hard to write when I don't have time or space to think. That was this morning.

We came home from an exhausting playdate (not because I didn't enjoy the company, but because I was trying to hold myself together the entire time) and thank God my girls went right to bed. I was literally hanging on by a thread emotionally and I just needed some space.

It's really easy to love my kids when they are super loveable and compliant and pleasant. Anyone can do that. I believe somewhere in some book Jesus talks about loving those who are unloveable, and how THAT is real love. Ouch. Somehow I tell myself that it's okay to be short with my kids (and other people) or stressed or angry because of the way they are acting. It seems normal...and it is. But Jesus is asking me to be not-normal. He's asking me to love with His love--the kind that doesn't make any normal sense. But it's so hard (said in my whiny voice). Yeah, it is. It's mostly hard though because I'm trying to love like Christ without Christ's help. I can only pull from the "love reserves" for so long before I crack. I only have so much grace in me until someone has crossed a line. God has grace upon grace, which I can dwell in and pull from continually, if I choose. But there it is: if I choose. How many times do I choose something else to fill the void or to minimize the stress? I'm choosing mere distractions from the real issue: I need to experience God's grace and love fo' real.

And so today, it felt like I was gasping for breath--emotional and spiritual breath. It doesn't happen often where I am literally desperate to talk to God. But today, I was desperate to read His truth and talk to him and share my burdens with him and be silent so he could share with me. Isn't this where he wants to find me always? Isn't it in this place of desperation that I am most in communion with Him? And so I read the passage for today and I'm continually amazed how a text that was published almost 85 years ago seems like it was written for me today.

Alan and I are both reading My Utmost for His Highest and almost everyday I'm floored. In a good way. Today was no exception. O.C. (that's his street name) first distinguished between the burden-bearing that is right and the kind that is wrong. He then goes on to say that if God has put the burden on us, he is not expecting us to carry it alone. He wants to shoulder it with us. We are not to abandon the burden (or dream or vision or calling), but we are to continue to put it on him and ourselves. Trying to carry the burden without intimate fellowship with Christ produces weariness and feels "overwhelmingly crushing". Sounds a lot like motherhood. And like our plans to move to Mexico.

How I needed to hear this today. If God has given me the blessing of children, he wants to shoulder this calling. I don't have to do it alone. And if he has asked our family to pick up everything we know and move it to a faraway land, he wants to shoulder it, too. He's not going to give me a burden and expect me to carry it on my own. How amazingly refreshing to have that reminder.

Then I read a passage in Ephesians that talked about how Jesus sacrificed his life for me while I was still dead in my transgressions. He loved me when I was unloveable and still loves me as I am unloveable on a daily basis. This is the love that I too am called to give to my kids and others. To love the unloveable.

My prayer for today is to dwell in the grace of God and to continue to share the load with him.

- M

The Lone Star State

A few weeks ago we decided we would travel to Texas (all 4 of us) for Alan's Grandpa's 90th birthday celebration. The decision to go was pretty last minute, although we were given plenty of notice about this trip. Originally, it just seemed like too much money and the thought of leisure travel with two kids seemed void of leisure.

Then all of a sudden, we decided to go. Not sure why--maybe because finances changed and we had the money, or because we wanted to wear shorts and say things like "ya'll"--nonetheless, we were headed to the happiest place on earth. Wait. Wrong place.

There was a small part of me that wanted to go to Texas to see what I was made of. I wanted to travel with two kids on an airplane, live in cramped quarters for a few days to see if I could do it. I knew my kids could do it--they're resilient. I just wasn't sure how I would fare. And since we have plans to move our entire lives to another country, I thought taking a test run couldn't hurt. Turns out, I am resilient too!

Because I am trying to write this while the girls are napping and in reality, Olive has more of a "quiet time" in her room, which, in reality is not that quiet, I'll include just some highlights from the trip.

We had a lay-over on the way there, so each flight was no more than 2 1/2 hours. The girls did so well, thanks to a stash of lollipops and the iPad. We flew on regional planes, so they didn't handle turbulence as well. After our first flight, Olive and I were sick. Olive was really pale and saying her tummy hurt and I was quietly saying to myself "do not throw up, do NOT throw up". So at the Cincinnati airport, I found magic Chewable Dramamine and the second flight was quite dreamy.

The first night we stayed with some Dear Friends who live in Dallas. All four of us tried to share a room. Clementine was in a pack and play, Olive on a sofa-bed, and we were in a regular bed. We put the girls to bed first and through the monitor kept hearing this exchange:

Clementine: O-wiv

Olive: What?

Clementine: Chicken butt

After the 4th time of being called in by Olive, we moved Clementine to her own room so we could get some sleep. Olive did awesome sharing a room with us. It's amazing how kids just all of a sudden grow up. 6 months ago, we tried sharing a room and it was a disaster. I added that to the list of things we just don't do. This was a good reminder that everything is just a season.

The rest of the trip was filled with a lot of time spent at the hotel playground, in our hotel room, and getting together with family each night. Saturday night was the actual birthday celebration. Great Grandma (or "Meemaw" as Clementine calls her) bought special dresses for the girls to wear to the party. This is how much the girls liked them:

Seriously. The crying and death screams lasted for 15 minutes. Much bribing was done to get them to go to the party in these dresses. I think they get their diva-ness from Alan. He's high maintenance.

I'm so glad we decided to go, for many reasons. It was great for Alan to spend time with his extended family; it was so encouraging to see how well our girls do with traveling; and spending time with our Dear Friends in Dallas was refreshing.

I feel like we can accomplish anything; all I need is a stash of lollipops, Caillou episodes on the iPad, and some Dramamine.

- M

Ps. Find more pictures and musings from our trip on facebook.