*This post was written on Wednesday - just as our wireless went capoot (what is the proper spelling of "capoot," anyway?)*
It is a bit past midnight and we just shut and locked the truck full of our everything. You would think that was our biggest thing going on today, but no.
This morning we finalized Rocky and Mar's adoptions!!!
And some of you are thinking, "Wha - huh?"
Yes, I know, it is wonderfully ideal to finalize the day before you drive away in the U-Haul to move across state lines. Uh-huh. Ideal. If by ideal you mean something like: horrible, miserable, stressful and highly inconvenient.
It's a long story. Most of us in the adoption world have at least one of those. I could go into it, but ... WHO CARES? THEY ARE OFFICIALLY MOERS! I will say we were brilliant and did not tell any of the kids about our excursion until we woke them up this morning. "Muffins on the table, get dressed in what you wore Sunday - we're going to court!" We figured we all had enough going on and reason to act out. Why throw in a court hearing, ya' know? Mar DID chat our heads off all the way there, but we got through it just fine.
We had a lot of fun at court. It was a very positive and educational experience rolled into one. Because this was not your typical adoption situation, the hearing was much more in depth than the average finalization. Michael and I actually got to take the witness stand! Boy howdy, the kids thought that was just about the coolest thing ever. That poor court reporter - having to keep up with me talking about my children and how committed I am to their needs and how I promise to love them forever and ever ... I'm sure she was cussing me under her breath.
We went out to eat afterward, because ... well, why wouldn't you? Gotta' celebrate and that should involve something yummy. Then we came home to a half empty house and a half full truck and our super sweet friends who have brought us food and helped us pack, brought an Adoption Day cake she had made for the kids. Seriously - how thoughtful was that? There was NO WAY I could have pulled off a cake today.
Speaking of, I'm washing down a piece right now with a Diet Dr. Pepper. Mmmmmm. Adoption Day.
I wanted to write so much more, and share our whole story about how we were all brought together just over a year ago (and the connections that began years before that, unbeknownst to any of us). I will do that at a later time. It's a great story, but I am completely exhausted and it's my turn in the shower.
One of our kids is not allowed to use the restroom in our bedroom - ever. You see, they can take a dump on command, and likes to unload into our potty when they are angry with us (knowing it stinks up the bedroom). Once that little treasure was uncovered months ago, our loo has been off limits to them. Granted, when you have a child dealing with fear and attachment, you also don't want them that close to your toothbrush, shampoo and other toiletries. Otherwise, you're just asking for it.
Tonight ...
"Honey, what are you doing going into my bathroom?"
"Well, I need to get on my pajamas and brush teeth."
"Honey?"
Huff. Puff. "I'm mad."
"Why are you mad?"
"Cause Dad said, 'We're all in the same room,' and I didn't like it."
About 20 minutes earlier, a bunch of us were in the kitchen. The kids had spent the evening with some friends. Michael and I spent the evening with two real, live adults. So, we're all recapping the events of the night and this child was being VERY loud. Michael, keeping it light and silly instead of just correcting with a stern voice, jokes: "Hey, we're all right here in the same room!" Smiles and laughs from everyone - even that child.
But ahhhhhhhh ... they did not like it. They held the dump. They hoped I wouldn't notice them slipping past into our Necessary Room. They were going to bless our nasal cavities.
This kid is having a REALLY hard time right now, but is doing remarkably well. I have watched them choose multiple times to get regulated instead of head for a rage or a reason to restrain. We have to help them and do our best to think ahead for them.
They need us now, more than ever, to be an advocate throughout the day, with life in general.
I have a super amazing friend named Summer. I found her one night on Facebook while trying to locate people living in my new town. She was pretty crunchy, herself, and we started writing back and forth. She was honest with me: she is Pagan. I was honest with her: my husband was the pastor of the First Baptist Church. The two of us asked, "Why can't we be friends?"
And so we were.
Three years later, I am still Christian, she is still Pagan, and we're still friends ... really great THIS-MOVE-SUCKS kinda' friends.
I adore her. I adore her for so many reasons, but today took the cake. See, she got to go to BlogHer this past weekend. I was insanely jealous, mainly because I had someone I know IRL right there and I didn't get to share it with her. We would have had so much fun (making private jokes under our breath). But alas, she made the journey, with baby in tow.
She had two sponsors to appease, as well as a super yummy baby to care for. Yet, what else did my favorite Summer do? SHE BROUGHT ME SWAG, BABY!
I got this (holy cow, does she know me!):
And a giant bag full of all kinds of crap (some of the crap was made of chocolate!):
She also let me hold her sweet Saffron almost the whole stinkin' time she was at my house. Yum, yum, YUM!
I love this chic. I love her kids. Tonight my husband said, "Ya' know, I've never really been able to hear Evan talk until today and you sound JUST like him!" I do a GREAT impersonation of her oldest. He has the most absolutely adorable dialect on the planet.
I think there are some who might think it is great how God put me in her life. I would have to say they've got it backward. I am crazy blessed to call her my friend.
As of noon tomorrow, I am no longer the pastor's wife. Is it wrong that the thing bugging me the most is having to retire this AMAZING icon? It has been my staple. Well, and this one, too:
I won't take it down right away. I need time to mourn. I also need some ideas for a new profile pic. I'm not terribly picky. It just has to be super unique and unbelievably cool.
In the meantime, I'm just going to pull up my page and look at it over and over. Not quite ready to say good-bye.
* I have been wanting to blog about Henry Gates and what it means to me, to be raising a black son in America. Yet ... well, I'm about to explain my life over the past few days. So, instead, I'll just direct you to my favorite Kristen Howerton in the whole world and what she has to say about Racism and Sunburns (ATTENTION TRAUMA MOMS: the sunburn analogy is helpful to our very, very frustrated brains!!).
* It is one thing to try to find pants and shorts to fit my 37-yr-old no-longer-in-my-20's physique. Yet, I was getting really, really frustrated yesterday, trying to locate appropriate shorts for my traumatized child. I mean, COME ON, people. Why on earth do our grade school girls need to have low rise ANYTHING? And how on earth will it benefit any young woman to have her shorts up to her butt cheeks? Oh, that's right - IT WON'T! Geez, Louise!
* One child is back and in full form. Ask them to put away a bath towel, and they'll stand in front of the kitchen drawer, looking very confused, wondering how to make the bath towel fit in with the kitchen towels. Ask them to take an old box with trash, and sit it next to the old litter box behind the fence? They'll spend ten extra minutes picking up ALL the doesn't-go-in-the-trash-can items, moving them over into one of the trash cans and making sure to leave the lid off so I notice. Take those two incidences, multiply them by 4,963,129,293 ... and you have the current state of their brain and my life. Not brushing teeth, not putting on deodorant, and is spending all day within eye shot and ear shot one parents my husband today.
* Yes, I've been super tempted to say this to this kid. But I haven't. Someone give me a prize.
* I have some very happy children who are now getting paid out of their sibling's allowance to fix anything they do wrong or refuse to do. "50 cents just to take the bath towel off the wash cloths and put it where it belongs? SWEET!" And yes, we've been stupid enough to ask this child to actually do stuff. We have come to our senses. I have possession of their wallet and will be doling out money accordingly to those who pick up the slack. No, this child doesn't care. This will just be "what we do," til we get through the move. It's a stressful time for all of us. And it SUCKS.
* It has all started to take its toll on me. Two migraine aura's in two days (chugged pain meds to stay on top of it, but neither were horrific). Two nights ago I came to bed, laid down and cold chills and sweating washed over me. Went outside to catch a breeze (ya' know - feeling hot then cold then hot then cold). Holding my hair back, just knowing I was going to barf ... literally laying down on the grass in my backyard in my P.J.'s! Never did. Weird. I have been pushing myself way too hard. I wanted to be well ahead of schedule, knowing Twitchy Mac would be having panic attacks and trauma would be saying, "Oh, you THINK you can just tell me we're moving - well, I'll show you who is in control!" So, I accomplished my goal. We are ahead of schedule. Yet, today I am acknowledging my body, and doing nothing - besides bossing around my husband from my bed.
* I did run away last night, for some coffee and spending of birthday money. Hid from my children and made sure to stay out well past bedtime. I'm no dummy. One child pretended to be very, very sad. Well, they were, actually. They were very, very sad they were unable to make my life miserable for those few hours. :) This kid was strong enough to say to me the other day, "I know God wants us to move, but I'm taking it out on you because you're right here." Still conversing with God about a strategy where they could just take it out on Him, instead. Will let you know how that works out.
* You can have family gatherings every single night, and talk about the move every single day, and address the loss of control consistently ... but for some of our kids they are still just going to be off their rockers. *sigh*
* Can cats have attachment disorder? We've got one who has always been very controlling. He recently started barfing like crazy. Figured it was worms or something. Took him to the vet. Nope. "He's probably really stressed about the move. Some older cats do things like this." Dear God.
* Everyone and their dog is at BlogHer 09 right now. There are no words to explain my jealousy. No words.
* Seeing my roots grown down to my ears made me remember I have to find a new person to do my hair after the move. Finding a hairdresser and a new OBGYN are my two biggest challenges with a relocation. Find a great one, and things are very, very good. But a bad one and ... oooo ... very, very bad.
* Alright, I'm going to get up and walk around. Grab another cup of coffee. Blink my eyes and see if everything else is magically packed, and my children are bowing to me in adoration.
Addicts have their drug of choice. Kids from the hard places have their behavior of choice. One of my sugars was a crazy mad pee-er in the very beginning. That diminished, but with the move, it's back, baby.
So, I had this song stuck in my head all day, and it just kept evolving.
Yes, I did actually take the time to write out this whole thing (if you've known me since high school or college - not surprised AT all *said with a Chandler Bing inflection*) and record it at 10:45 pm. Yes, my hair is totally sticking out in the back and I have a quite attractive butt-part from a day of sweaty packing. Yes, I did teach myself how to play it on the guitar, but wanted to sing it at normal human speed and am singing along with YouTube. No, I do not sound well at 10:45 pm (my sweet, soothing, Karen Carpenter voice prefers the early morning hours).
But some of you really need this as badly as I needed to share it. So, I was not going to wait until I was rested and looking hot. Grab some coffee and break out a little harmony.
Love you all.
Hey there, my darlings, what's it like to feel so freaky 'bout a move tha we must make into a scary, brand new city? Yes, it's true, so hypervigilent are you, and well - me too.
You're pulling old school things like chatter, playing dumb, and nonsense questions, skipping hygiene, and leaving chores undone. I know it's true, but you will argue til you're blue, it's nothing new.
(lots of selfish moaning about pee)
Here there, my sweethearts, do you know how fun its been to pull out all the furniture and find the places your pee's been, and yet I stay - each time the urine comes to play - like yesterday.
Hey sugar lumps, I know you're scared and need control so much you'll fill that bladder up and let your anger take its toll. You're on a roll. Seems you have made it quite a goal, but it's getting old.
(more selfish moaning about pee)
Eight more days seems pretty far. May have to find myself a bar. I'd make it easy if there were some way. You'll rage and cry and huff & puff, but I'll just trug along because I know you're loved and know that you are safe. Honies, I can promise you that by the time that we get through our carpet will never be the same, but that's okay.
Hey there my darlings, keep on sneaking out to places you know youa re not allowed, and keep on making angry faces right at me, if that is how it's gonna' be. You can spray wherever you darn please. Hey there, my sweeties, here's to you - this one's for you!
Today is my first official day as the mother of a teenager.
That's just weird.
Yes, it's all about me!
And today I was reading Claudia on my feed reader. You think I know a lot? Claudia's life experience wipes the floor with me.
So, here are the Claudia words of wisdom on this monumental day in ME! ME! ME! my son's life:
"I'm finding that now that I've figured out the key to parenting them (you can't control them, no matter what you do, so instruct, consequence, and observe -- but treat it like a movie that you're watching, and enjoy seeing how the plot unfolds). Parenting teens by attempting to control them is as foolish as sitting watching a movie and thinking that by your own will power you can change the ending."
I've been reading lately about something I'm doing right for my libido. Didn't even know it. Well, I knew these things had a lot of health benefits, but didn't realize they may be playing a big role in the slow increase of my va-va-voom this past year.
Every single night I take one fish oil capsule (1000 mg), and one Vitamin E capsule (400 I.U.). I actually have the whole family on these, as a part of my kids' healing journeys.
I couldn't help but notice a title like, "The Orgasmic Diet" by Marrena Lindberg. Still have not read it, but one of the big pushes within its pages is fish oil. The oil contains a dopamine, which is a great encouragement for the Not-Tonight-Dear's.
And why the Vitamin E? It is very helpful for vaginal dryness. This may not be a factor for many of you, but this 37-year-old body is just doesn't care to keep up like it used to.
So, there you go. Take two pills and call me in the morning to tell me about all the great sex. **you will not have an immediate increase in libido, so don't come back moaning - remember, slow and steady wins the race (insert other fortune cookie contents here)**
Olive Garden is just about the slurpiest place you can take a child with an egg allergy.
Every single solitary carb has eggs included. We can eat pizza just about anywhere. Nope, not at Olive Garden. Pasta? You would think, but alas - laden with it.
And, yes, I'm stupid. I just assumed we'd be okay with the Italian dressing on the salad.
I'M STUPID.
The one thing Olive Garden does have going for it is roomy, clean restrooms ... for the vomiting 6-year-old who then needs a great place to cry, because ... well ...
The only thing on the menu she could stomach was chicken breast and broccoli. She actually likes both of those things, but they start to look like poo when the rest of her family is noshing on bread sticks, pasta, pizza and that ever-so-delicious salad which sent her stomach on a revolt.
I poisoned my kid. It was my fault. I KNEW to check. Well, I did check. I checked the bottle at the front of the restaurant quickly as she was heading into the restroom. Yeeeaaaaahhhh, I blew it.
I also did what any good mom would do. I apologized with a Happy Meal and a giant cone of ice cream.
"This picture was taken the first time I was able to do a "Twosome" feed by myself. They were about 5 weeks old.
I adopted our first son and tried to induce lactation but had two failed matches and didn't try to induce by the time we were matched with him. Now we have twin boys and despite inverted nipples and one baby who wouldn't latch, I powered through and now I have exclusively breastfed twin boys! Woohoooo!!!"
We've had one little renewed bed-wetting-in-anger evening. Was was able to hide it for 24 hours. Mmmmm ... that always smells so good.
Approximately 3,491 therapeutic conversations.
My younger boy, who has always had tics, hit what was undeniably full blown Tourettes over the last several months. No biggie. We have always suspected, his (verbal and motor) just don't always show up at the same time. You can just imagine how noisy he has been lately, with the pending move.
The 6-yr-old had a friend who almost moved about 20 minutes away this year. Said friend SWEARS she cried so much, her dad said, "Okay, never mind. I'll keep commuting 20 minutes to work." Mmmm hmmmm. Guess who has decided to mimic trauma, in hopes we might say, "Okay, never mind!"?
The house AC went out again today. We're camping over 100 degrees these days. It's 9:48 pm, and still in the 90's inside.
Therapy is tomorrow. Possibly our last one before the move. We DO have AC in the van, at least.
Ohhhhh, and the AC went out in my husband's car. Two weeks and two mechanics ... will be about $300. So much fun to spend that kind of money on a 16 year old car.
Hot dog. Just looked at the temp. 88 degrees outside and 85 inside. Whoo! Hooo! COLD FRONT!
Thought I'd recap one of our fairly "heavy" days of attachment related challenges. A lot of you ask how our conversations play out. If you don't find this interesting or helpful, you will be bailing out rather quickly. It did not involve any rages or bodily fluids or cussing, but it's a long one, friends. Prepare yourself for typo's and rambling.
Today was thick, thick, THICK with trauma. Okay, so the whole week has been. I mean, we did tell our children we're moving in less than a month. I expected everyone to be on edge. I expected them to all start beating the crap out of one another, set the house on fire, sneak into my room at night and knock my teeth out with a hammer ... so I can be pleasantly surprised when it's not that bad.
I'll just lay it out to give you an idea. Remember, my attachment challenged kids are tweens, one has graduated from attachment therapy and the other has seven months under her belt. We've been doing die-hard therapeutic parenting for 15 months. Adjust your radars accordingly.
One child "forgot" how long to heat up the stick of butter in the microwave so it was spreadable. This same child had come bouncing happily through the living room just after waking, moments before. So, obviously *cough* there was nothing wrong.
I kept it simple. I talked too much, but I did avoid the actual battle. It wasn't about the butter. It's never about the butter. Hind sight, I should've been very curious and playful. Should've just said, "Hmmm. Maybe 45 minutes. What do you think? That might be fun to try!"
I try to remember that their tricks make them feel safe. When you address something they are doing, even if you are being playful, it can sometimes feel like you are stripping a survival mechanism from them. I say things like, "Let's talk again about how safe you are, how loved you are." That is when I do chase a rabbit. "Are you safe here? How do you know? Tell me about Dad. What about me? What are your favorite things about your sister?"
I break up the big talks with lots of reminders as to the truths in their lives: they are safe and they are loved.
So, after a good 45 minutes of working through feelings and having lots of breaks to talk about the great things in our lives, and help them re-regulate their brain and find a smile ... sometimes I actually get to hear what is going on underneath. This particular day involved uncomfortable feelings about male figures in their life.
I then cleared the coffee table and used random objects to tell my kid the Nancy Thomas story about the boy and the frozen lake. Of course, I told it very visually, and in a way which would help them understand why we put such a priority on some things. We had a great discussion, and I was able to share how this story also helps Dad and I better understand them, as well.
We finished up just before 9:30 am. My child was smiling, regulated and the butter was plenty soft at that point. :)
Still with me?
Several little controlling things with another child. I would do a little time-in with me off and on, until they were regulated enough to rejoin their siblings. This has worked well for this particular child over the last few days. Just by saying it out loud, it will no longer help them in a positive way, and I'll need to switch it up. Ah well.
It was about 100 degrees today. One child had on jeans. Had waited too long to do laundry, so there were no shorts. In the car, as we were driving to pick up Dad for lunch, this child started to bemoan "having" to wear the jeans. "Hmmm ... that's interesting. Why is it again that you must wear those jeans today?" Said something about needing to wear them so they could "get them out of the way," as if they are forced to wear everything in their closet before they can start over a new rotation or something. It was quite whopper, I must say. That kid thinks on their feet.
Anywho, with some Christine humor (translation: "Our mom thinks she's funny, but she's just embarrassing"), I helped them rewind that story and try it again, with some actual reality. They found me neither funny nor embarrassing. But was able to pull it back together, though, with some pizza.
Decided to let the older four spend two hours swimming sans Mom. Knew one of my kids would have the hardest time. Talked through it. They really wanted to try, and was verbalizing the things which would tempt them to be a toot misbehave. Two of the siblings made a plan, in case one found themselves stressed. We decided to give it a go. The worst that could happen would be one kid wigging out, and one of the other kids calling me to come get them. Had three other sets of eyes around, and this kid does well with family, because they know that we all know what to expect.
So, there was really only one mishap at the pool. It did, however, cross a line into one of our house rules (we have very few - our basic guidelines are "everyone is safe" and "everyone is loved," but we have some more specific rules right now due to specific behaviors we're working on).
Took a sit-down of very simplistic questions and lots of reminders and safety and love before they chose to get to the heart of it. This is a very painful subject for this child lately. Starting to feel some remorse for bullying and lack of self-control - thus the tighter boundaries. Even though we talked it through, it was just too much for them.
And many people may think, "What's the big deal?" Oh, how I wish it wasn't. How I wish they already had a solid foundation socially and emotionally. This child does not. We have to build it. We have backed up to "ground zero" and just slowly reintroduce certain situations as they heal. Our talk ended with smiling, but not full regulation. Stiff arms. Still fairly robotic. This kid's just not well enough to move as deeply into feelings. They needed a break.
"Mom, would you like me to start the dryer for you?"
"Sure, honey." I knew this was a set-up. It was so painfully obvious. It was RIGHT after our talk. I just let it play out. Sure enough. Set the timer wrong and barely caught the door latch, so it stopped running after about three minutes. I walked into the kitchen and just lifted my eyebrows. "WHAT? I started the dryer! WHAT?" Funny. I didn't say a word about the dryer. heh. heh. Yet, what they needed in that moment was to cool down. I asked them to go out on the back porch and take some deep breaths - not to come back in until they felt a little bit better.
Took about five minutes. When they wanted to talk, I sat down in a way where I was just a bit lower than they were. My child has been openly discussing some new things, so I'm trying to respect this fresh pain. I did something I've been holding onto for a bit. Walked them through this song (we have it on a really old CD in the car, but they never knew the words):
We would pause with every phrase and talk about it. Would look up words in the dictionary they didn't know. Oh my cow, was this a good experience. I wish you could have all crawled inside my head and witnessed it with me. My child still holds onto the lie that they are "bad."
OKAY - so this ended about 4:30 pm. The boys had been reading an Archie comic and giggling like girls. The other two were trying to sell some of their artwork to kids in the neighborhood (really - and it worked - Mac made 75 cents). Life doesn't stop for therapeutic parenting. If someone else needs me, we take a quick break - whatever. It's just who we are and what we do. When something comes up, we stop, drop and roll-with-it right then if at all possible.
Husband comes home after 5 pm. He recaps his day. I recap mine. Sooooo, around 6 pm he tells me to get my butt in the bath so he can reheat leftovers for the kids. I happily oblige.
When I re-emerge, he smiles at me. One kid is just sitting at the kitchen table. Had a rough time with Dad while I was chilaxing in the tub.
Dad and I were able to be quite the comedians as we worked our way through it. It all came back around to us knowing the truth about how this child feels intimidated by Dad. We said some phrases to give them more control when they feel threatened by dad's voice. Sometimes it is when he is using a firm correcting voice, and sometimes it's just when this child is feeling extremely vulnerable. Either way, we practiced saying, "Dad, could you change your voice?" Role played some possible scenarios. Of course, Dad changed his voice to all sorts of high-pitched concoctions. Silliness rules.
Kids went out with Dad to set off the last of the fireworks. Just as the last one was going off, someone started yelping. Someone, in their "fright" was smashing into their brother. Dad called it. There was fussing. He said, "Just head on inside. It's almost bedtime anyway." I was able to enjoy the robot walk into the bedroom. Dad made a joke once they were inside, though, and lightened right up. Probably just wanted to make sure no one had forgotten about them.
So, there ya' go ... a typical Thursday, bathed in the stress of an upcoming move.
My husband, being the horse. At least I referred to his MOUTH. :)
This is the note he has sent out to a lot of friends. I simply had to post it. Most of you don't know my guy, and I thought you would enjoy "reading" his heart.
He's pretty yummy, to boot.
*************************************************
Last night, during the Sunday evening worship service, I announced that I will be stepping down as pastor of First Baptist Church in Blackwell, OK .
I know this might come as a shock to some of you. And I’m sure that your first reaction is to assume that there is something bad that has happened. But nothing could be further from the truth.
The truth is: this is a very positive step for me and my family.
For some time now, Christine and I have been feeling led by God to do ministry in a completely different way than we have done it all of our lives. For the first time in my 41 years on this earth, and my 20 years in church ministry, God is asking me to step away from the traditional model of the church.
We will continue to serve Him and lead out in ministry. We will continue to love and serve God, and love and serve others. We simply will not be doing this in and from the typical setting of the traditional model of the church.
When I think about the type of ministry approach that Christine and I are feeling led to – the closest thing I can compare it to is something similar to what a missionary might experience. We feel like we are answering a missionary-type calling, and we are being asked to fund our own way.
Part of our journey has involved God convicting us to live and serve Him in such a way that does NOT require us to live off of the tithes and offerings of others. This means that we feel that we should step away from church-staff positions. We feel called to a missionary-type life style, yet we do not feel led to partner with a mission board, because that would require us to live off of the tithes and offerings of others, as well.
So, this means that we have had to figure out a way for me to make a living and provide for my family in a way I’ve never done before! In other words, we have spent the last several weeks exploring different types of secular employment! In addition to this, we felt very strongly that if we left the church in Blackwell, that we should also leave Blackwell. The last thing we’d want to do is tempt others to pull away from FBC to join what we’re doing and hurt the church in the process.
So, long-story-short, we have finalized plans to purchase an RV Park in south Texas , near a small town named Gonzales. We will be closing on July 31, and my last Sunday at FBC will be July 26. The RV Park will be our new jobs – our source of income. We will continue to be a part of the Body of Christ – loving and serving God, loving and serving others.
The most challenging part of this journey for me is leaving what I have known – and have been comfortable with – all of my life. Plus, God has taught me a great deal about what it means to truly “walk by faith.” The bottom line is: if the road is easy and all of your questions are answered ahead of time, then where does faith enter in? For us, the road ahead is still filled with mystery, and a little bit of uneasiness. I can’t tell you what our lives and ministry efforts will even look like in 3-4 months from now. I just know that we’ll continue to love and serve God, and love and serve others.
I know this is a lot to absorb, but I wanted you to know what is going on in our lives. Please feel free to holler at me down the road -
For those of you who "know church" ... imagine telling your church you are leaving ... to give away your lives ... in a secular job.
Three guesses as to the big questions you get over an over again.
"Someone made you mad?" "I didn't know things were so bad?" "Is it church politics?" "Do we need to have a business meeting? What do we need to do so you will stay?"
It's hard to convince people we are just as sad to leave as they are to see us go. Also hard to help them understand we are not leaving "the pastorate." We are not leaving "ministry." In fact, we're diving deeper.
If we said, "We feel called to Zambia, where we will be working as local farmers, and will be partnering with the International Mission Board," the questions would not be there. Reminds me of how people ask where we "got Presh." When I tell them, "Waco," their faces sink a bit. They were expecting "Africa." It would somehow seem bigger and more impressive and exotic.
We're moving to Gonzales, Texas and we will own and operate an RV park 11 miles outside of town, in a tiny, little clump of community, where 90% of people live in a manufactured home, because the rental prices are a bit cheaper out there than they are in town.
WHY Gonzales? Good question. We just asked God to make it very, very clear, and he did. We would have gone to Zambia. We were willing to go anywhere, and he said "Gonzales."
So, no, REALLY, we are not mad ... at anyone. Well, okay, okay - outside of the normal annoyances we all have with each other (and I KNOW people could make a list about me!). But really - WE ARE NOT MAD. We are not running from anything.
We feel pulled to something ... not pushed away from here.
In fact, we are grieving this loss. I really thought we would all die here. Really. We never, ever wanted to be in a different church, a bigger church, etc. We absolutely adore our town. We adore the people. The kids have about 30 sets of surrogate grandparents, as well as oodles of friends. My husband has some of the most amazing and encouraging men in his life. I have the wackiest and most diverse group of women surrounding me.
We love it here!
And we will love it there.
This is hard on my family. It is hard, because we adore Blackwell, Oklahoma. We adore the people who gather and call themselves the "First Baptist Church." They are our family. They have held us up as we grew our family this past year. They brought us bread and eggs and sent cards, even when they couldn't quite grasp or understand how difficult it was to do therapeutic parenting. We all sharpen one another.
Good LORD. They love and accept me! If that right there doesn't tell you a lot about them, I don't know what does. I'm quirky. I'm weird. My sense of humor is whacked out. For Pete's sake, their pastor's wife blogs about her sex life!
And they love me - just exactly as I am - even when they don't necessarily like me.
I don't recall any of the disciples throwing down their nets and saying, "Oh, THANK YOU! This place SUCKS!"
It's a strange feeling: excitement mixed with mourning.
We're trying to help everyone understand that this isn't the typical "Pastor is leaving because ..." fill-in-the-blank with words like "deacons," "committees" or "burned out." This isn't typical, because our relationships here are not typical. We are moving away from our family.
We also realize they are grieving, too. That is also why we told them the very day we knew this was a done-deal. Told our kids that afternoon, and Michael went straight up that Sunday night to let everyone know. We all needed every second of time we could get to work through this together: the excitement mixed with mourning.
Are we mad at someone? That's almost funny, because it absolutely could not be more opposite from the truth and the reality of this place and the hold it has in our hearts.
We bought a friggin’ RV park and we are moving in about a month.
Told ya – BIG news. Allow me to explain.
As things go in my life, we are always praying, “What is it you want to be doing with us?” God always answers that prayer … always. In fact, I picture His eyes lighting up as he says, “Suh-weet! I’ve got all SORTS of things you can be doing!’
It was just over a year ago when I was helping my in-laws with their motel as they settled into retirement. Michael and I saw first-hand how his parents poured their lives into so many people for almost three decades. There was a constant revolving door of guests, all walking their own path through life, and many who may have been seeking a vacation, but really needed someone to just listen. It was beautiful. It was also exhausting and back-breaking and sometimes a total pain in the kiester.
We got them retired, and we brought two more children into our home and we pretended we had done all the really crazy things God might be asking of us for quite some time. Patted ourselves on the back, and settled into our new routine of the crazy-fun RAD rollercoaster.
That’s when I did it. I prayed it again. God has always moved us into different challenges in different seasons. We turned a corner and I belted a big, “What is it you want to be doing with us now? Anything new?”
Fast forward a few months. I know some of you “get it.” Some of you are dumbfounded. Yet, after praying and talking and listening and more praying and more talking and more listening (repeat, repeat, repeat), we knew we were to be pulling a Paul & Barnabas. God was telling us over and over again we were to earn our wages by our own hands, so that we can give our lives away to people freely (emphasis on the “free” part).
This isn’t something which happened in our lives overnight. Just like every other crazy aspect, it has been years in the making. We have spent more than a decade slowly simplifying our lives so we could give more (not just money, but time), to the people in our lives. In the middle of all the praying and talking and listening, my husband and I continued to connect over and over again. Our thought processes were completely in sync (and, YES, I’m sure that thoroughly frightened him). We knew we were absolutely supposed to be doing something where we provided for all of our financial obligations ourselves so we could literally give ourselves away … but what?
And this is when the weeks of helping his parents reentered our hearts. We put out a few “feelers” … knowing we were in no hurry, whatsoever.
Oh … sorry … had to stop and laugh out loud for just a second. We know better than to say we’re “in no hurry.” Because – BOOM!
There was this little RV park looking for a new owner. It was the perfect size. The company’s site revealed very little identifying information. We just knew it was somewhere in the southern United States. About a seven state area. That was it. Could have been Oklahoma. Could have been Arkansas. Who knew?
Come to find out, it is less than two hours from my in-laws. Closer to my parents. Closer to Michael’s sister. Closer to Presh’s birthmom and brother. It is also nestled in a really tiny community of people on a highway in south Texas.
And in 13 years of marriage, the constant small changes and sacrifices we have made put us in a position to do something like this in the middle of a recession. And God said, “Yes, please.”
Told ya’ – BIG news.
So, consider yourselves in the loop. I will give more details later, but right now we have a lot of mourning and crying to do, seeing how we adore our church and our town and our neighbors. Our children are very excited, and very, very sad. This part suuuuuuuuuuuucks.
Our new venture will probably begin early August. Mark your calendars. You realize, don’t you, that for less than $30 a night you can park your RV and pick my RAD-mom brain ALL. DAY. LONG?? You can bring your kids, and every time you raise your voice I can punch you in the arm – it’s a free perk of the park! The Christine Moers Punch-a-Parent Seminar.
Seriously, though. We will be in the business of giving to our guests whatever they need … whether it is quiet or support or encouragement or laughs or to be left the heck alone. Our lives will be very, very simple, and yet very, very rich (well, and let's not forget: very, very sweaty).
Here’s my personal take on the old hymn, “I Surrender All” – it has been a constant on my breath lately.
Crazy things going on here. I will catch you all up soon. Not trauma related, which is good (I mean, that's still there, but we've got plenty of crazier things to keep us occupied ... really).
Had a good time giving my children explosives and fire over the past two days. We discovered some very important scientific truths during our escapades. For instance, your father's Star War's characters (made back when they KNEW how to make toys) can withstand firecrackers blowing up under their butts. Yet the same firecrackers will dismember a Polly Pocket. Seriously. Try it.
Anywho, thought I'd share a pic of my favorite people. If I have ignored your email or phone call, I love you and I'm very sorry. It's not you - it's me. More info to come soon.
I watch the kids playing with their Webkinz, and I forget.
I get really, really annoyed by some nonsense chatter, and I forget.
I find myself immune to the little bitty controlling behaviors throughout the day, and I forget.
Then, a child starts to act out. I know to "rewind" and help them back up so they can tell me what it was that triggered these feelings. They talk about a friend who picked a fight. They had a scuffle. By no means is my child ever 100% innocent in such a situation, but this particular kid took a position of power and was not backing down. Usually my child orchestrates their life so they always have an edge and feel in control (certainly not healthy or healing, but it's their long-ingrained survival mechanism). As my child talked about it, I watched them slip into a flashback. Their breathing changed. Their fists wadded up. They could not sit still. There were tears mixed with a look which wanted to kill. That one altercation brought back the abuse. They saw the same look in that child's eyes they used to see in the face of their abuser. Talking about it was too much. Their feelings were so mixed - my kid wants to hang out with friends, but also had feelings that we abandoned them and did not keep them safe. All of these thoughts and feelings are still swirling.
I forget.
The same day, another child was pushing some limits. I had noticed it over the past two weeks with all of our travel and change of location and schedule. So, I brought it up. Not only did my child admit they were trying to soften the limits so they could slip back into some previous behaviors, but they also talked about pain in their past. These are things they have glossed over before to protect herself. Not this time. In a very limited way, my child told me - for the very first time - how certain things continue to haunt them and hurt them deeply. It rocked my world. It was gut-wrenching to realize how very real and horrible this was for them. So confusing. So very, very painful.
I forget.
Later that night I sat alone. I closed my eyes. I imagined someone taking my children and doing those things to them NOW ... making them experience them right NOW. For some reason it is easier to forget when it is in the past and we were not even woven into their lives at that point. I cried, because I had to stop thinking through the pain continuously. I was too much for ME. Knowing if it happened today, they would cry out for me. Yet, in reality, they went through these things feeling completely alone - not even knowing any other way to feel. It was HORRIBLE, but I felt like I had to take myself to this horrible place, for my children. Their brains take them there regularly.
I tried to count all of the losses they experienced. Some I knew. Some I had to guess. Even then, I think I didn't come close to their reality.
So, on this typical American, long holiday weekend, I am not going to forget.
Asks one of my daughters as all five kids are watching LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE at 9:12 am! What amazes me is how I know advertisers do heavy research on WHEN to place their ads. Apparently, this is a prime spot for such products.
Of course, you know me. I'll talk about anything.
"Well, it has to do with penises and sex. Would you guys like to stop and talk about it now or finish the show."
Knowing I will answer any and all questions ... it was a rousing, "WATCH THE REST OF THE SHOW!!"
ha!
Should make for some entertaining discussion over dinner.
.bmp)
.bmp)
