Toddler Life Lessons

'Sorry, Mom, it was an accident.' He says the right words, but I don't know that he quite grasps their meaning because we seem to be finding ourselves in this position quite often. Now, I need to clarify right away that our toddler is exceptional and one of my very favorite human beings. Owen is smart, adventurous, kind and hilarious. But he's also two years old and going through an unbelievable amount of change right now.

These are just a few of the things we've put him through in the past three and a half months: moving across the ocean, road tripping through seven states, potty training, being introduced to what feels like a million new people (and we're related to them all, Mom?!), bringing Baby Brudder home, experiencing winter for the very first time, learning to share Dad and Mom and sleeping in a big boy bed. Safe to say, some bumps in the road are to be expected; this last week those bumps took the form of regression in the potty training area.
God teaches me many lessons through my sons. Seriously, who would've thought one could discover deep spiritual truths while scrubbing poop stains out of tiny, little man boxers?! But it's true. I'm coming to believe that we are all just toddlers living in big people bodies. We try to act like we've got it all figured out and 'I can do it myself!' when we obviously can not and do, in fact, desperately need assistance. We try to run before we learn to walk. Everything is more catastrophic when we are hungry or tired. And if it wasn't so socially inappropriate we would all throw enraged-toddler-style fits from time to time, complete with crying so hard we turn blue in the face.
And yet...
God loves us.
And yet...
I love my toddler.

So, back to the poop issues. The revelation of the week came as Owen stumbled out of his room post-nap, looking about as fragile as Grandma's china and with pants looking more than a little...well, soiled. I walked him into the bathroom and at this point he usually gets 'the talk' about how disappointed I am and how big boys go potty in the toilet, yada yada. But this was different. He was so obviously broken by the events that had just transpired that as I helped him step out of his pants, tears started rolling down those sweet, sweet cheeks. I didn't utter a word; he was inflicting more than enough punishment on himself. I wiped him off, helped him step into new boxers and then gathered him into my arms and we sat on the bathroom floor together and rocked back and forth.
Sometimes I am so blatantly disobedient to my Father. Like, Jonah-style, catch a ride on the boat going as far from Nineveh as possible kind of disobedient. And then I need to be told that my actions were not those of a 'big girl' and were, indeed, unacceptable. I am capable of so much more. But other times, life just happens and I find myself in a world of trouble and I tip toe out of my room, head hung in shame and whisper, 'Sorry, Papa, it was an accident.' And you know what He does, like the Father of the prodigal son, He comes to me with grace that is stronger than any punishment. He gently wipes the gunk off as tears roll down my cheeks and then He sits with me, right there on the floor of the bathroom, and holds me close.
I am so thankful for grace.
Ephesians 2:8-9 'For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast.' 

I regularly ask Jesus to teach me SO THAT I can teach my boys. I have much to learn. But one of the biggest lessons I am trying to apply is that I am called to raise, disciple and love my boys like He loves me. 1 John 4:19 'We love because He first loved us.' This way, when I have any doubt on how to handle a situation I turn my thoughts to myself, toddler in a big girl body, and the countless ways I screw up each day. And then I try to respond to my boys in the way that God responds to me. Sometimes I need a serious time out. Sometimes nature simply takes its course and the consequences of my actions become the best form of teaching. And other times, drowning in my own shame and guilt, I need to be scooped up and held close and told that I am loved. Regardless, grace always wins.

Every day is something new with these boys and, although sometimes I fail to see it, there is almost always a lesson for me involved, too! Owen wants to swing high, 'but not REALLY high, Mom'. He is so brave and tough but he also likes the door left 'just a tiny bit open, Mom' when he goes to bed at night. This is so like me; ready to spread my wings and soar, and yet desperately needing to know that I have a soft place to land, strong arms that always catch me. May I have the child-like faith that Owen shows me each day. May I extend grace as it has so richly been lavished upon undeserving, little me.

Owen runs up to me from time to time, completely out of the blue, to say, 'Jesus lives in our HEARTS!' And then speeds off to resume playing. Seriously, he may be the one teaching me, here. (Just don't tell him!) May I live with the remarkable trust that he daily exudes. He also jumps off the couch yelling a line from one of his latest memory verses, 'SONS OF GOD!' and we joke that this is probably what David's mighty men yelled as they charged into battle. But what if I brought my faith into every detail of life, even couch jumping, with such reckless abandon!? Wouldn't God be pleased?!  I'm telling you.. I could go on and on. Life with a toddler equals life lessons in abundance. Just when I thought I had life figured out, God gave me boys and said, 'Daughter, we are JUST getting started!' I have so much to learn. Thank goodness for GRACE.
In conclusion, this morning Owen informed that he was starving and needed to have, and I quote, 'Yogurt and a bagel and a banana and pancakes and.... SALSA!' :) I haven't exactly gleaned the life lesson from this request yet, but it did allow me to start the day with a chuckle and maybe that is a lesson in itself. Why not begin each day with joy? Why not be outrageous with your breakfast orders? Why not..

Voices

When people claim 'voices in their head', we tend to take everything else proceeding from their mouths with a grain of salt, or maybe an entire salt block! But lately I've been hearing a few voices of my own and, therefore, decided not to be so quick to judge. (Funny how that works, right?!) In fact, I'm starting to believe these voices may exist in every head; the varying factor simply being the volume we allow each voice, the ones we choose to listen to.
Now, I'm no expert. I don't claim a degree in 'voice classification'. But, as far as I can tell, there's at least four basic categories: the voice of the world, the voice of the enemy, the voice of my self and the voice of Truth. Those all break down into more specific classifications, of course, but let's not get in over our heads here.

The past few months of my life have been extremely beautiful and extremely hard. And, yes, those two can co-exist... but that's a post for another afternoon. From the depths of postpartum blues and several rounds of sickness that left me with nothing left to give, I started hearing devastating phrases echoing through the corridors of my mind. 'You don't have what it takes.' 'Your boys deserve a better Mom.' 'How pathetic, you can't take care of your self or your family.' 'All the other moms seem to have it all figured out.' 'Your husband deserves a wife who has her act together.' And so on and so forth.
You get the picture; it's not a pretty one. Typing these words makes me cringe and yet, in the moment... head ache pounding, babies screaming, temperatures below freezing.. I believed them. I bought into the lie. I turned the volume up on the wrong voices and I let them run rampant.
I knew what was happening; understood that these feelings and thoughts were welling up from the mass of emotions and hormones and 'new' in my life. This knowledge didn't stop me from allowing the taunting voices to take over my mind for a time. It was easier, simpler perhaps, to let them talk than to rise to their challenge. The weapons needed to fight were at my disposal, I knew exactly what would send the depression packing: the name of Jesus, a thankful heart, opening up to those around me and admitting my need for help. But the mountain of emotions (and laundry and dishes and dirty diapers) seemed insurmountable.

I was driving down the mountain for a doctor appointment when God spoke to me right through the radio station. It was the Casting Crowns song 'Voice of Truth'; these lyrics released the pressure within and gave me the courage I needed to take a stand. Telling the stories of Peter's attempt at water walking and David's facing of Goliath with simple sling and stone, this song contrasts the voice of the monsters, the insurmountable and the terrifying with the only Voice that truly matters.

But the voice of truth tells me a different story

And the voice of truth says, 'Do not be afraid!'

And the voice of truths says, 'This is for my glory!'

Out of all the voices calling out to me,

I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth.

-Casting Crowns

It was no coincidence that 'voices' were also mentioned in the very next sermon I heard and the next chapter I read in my book. Okay okay, Papa God, I hear You! 

It matters not what battle you are facing, my friend. I understand that not everyone reading this is in the same boat as I am. But the voices of the world, of the enemy, even the voice of self- they don't care what season of life we are in. They will use any opportunity to utter their opinions, their lies. They start as a whisper, confirming deepest fears that we are, in fact, not enough or maybe we are too much. Comparing us to those around, preying on our weakest points, these voices twist reality and feed into fear and doubt. Reminding us of a life we once wished for, they stir feelings of discontent and hopelessness. They are relentless and must be turned off. May we not forget that we control the volume!

'My job was to put the good words on repeat so the bad words couldn't compete.' 

-Leeana Tankersley

The thief comes only to steal snd kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. John 10:10

The voice of Truth, it will never force itself, but is capable of changing everything. We must choose to turn up that still, small voice [1 Kings 9:12]. This one and only Voice that matters; it makes those mountains surmountable and gives the courage necessary to face up to the terrifying seasons of life stretching out before us. And if we listen to Truth consistently, let it penetrate the darkest pockets of our minds, it will begin to transform. I'm learning ways to thrive in this season instead of simply surviving. Some days may still feel impossible and leave me depleted of all resources. But that doesn't make me a failure. If I listen closely I can hear the voice of Truth telling a different story. He whispers that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be and this will be for His glory. 'Daughter, I am with you. I am for you! Don't give up the fight.'

Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. John 8:32

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. Psalm 119:105

May we turn up the volume on Truth; let His light shine in the darkness. I know it can feel impossible, but we DO have what it takes, with the help of the Helper! And we are able, my friend, to rise to the challenges before us. Allow hope to enter in; choose life, grace and beauty over the suffocating voice of darkness. May we choose to listen to the right words; believe that this season, hard as it may be, has massive potential to also be beautiful. 

xo

To My Boys!

Sweet, baby boy! You are already one month old. How in the world did that happen? We were just making our very hurried trip to the ER, weren't we? You were just brand new! I don't want to forget the buttery soft feel of your skin, the heavenly scent of your baby-fine hair. Your ears and tiny fingers are absolute perfection in their unbelievably, miniature forms. I love everything about you, Daniel Wayne. I don't want to see this sweet newborn phase disappear but, at the same exact time, this front row seat to your development and growth is remarkable!
Your eyes open wide now and focus in on Daddy, Brother and I. You smile and stick out your tongue in response to our wild antics and you pick out our voices from all others. You crane your neck to stretch and see all you can see. You are strong and smart and handsome and we are not biased. Just kidding. But you ARE all those things, ask anyone around!
Owen is warming up to the idea of you sticking around. He loves to 'pet' you, bring your pacifier when you are crying and read you stories, specifically the one about going on a bear hunt. He can not wait until you are a little tougher and he can wrestle you and teach you how to blow bubbles and jump off the couch and tackle the packs of toilet paper. He is an excellent big brother and you will have endless adventures together.

Owen, my brave, strong boy! You are growing into such an awesome young man. I love your heart and the compassion within, I also admire your drive and persistence- even when it is the cause of some teeth gritting on my part. I am inspired by your imagination and wild sense of adventure. You like bizarre foods like artichoke hearts and black licorice. Your favorite Bible character right now is Gideon and you want to read his story every night. You've memorized Proverbs 15:1, Matthew 5:9 and Colossians 3:20. I am SO very proud of you. It's awesome to watch you choose right over wrong, help without being asked and adjust to all this 'new' with such courage and an open heart. There are countless lessons I can learn from you. I love hearing you comfort your teddy bears, or tuck them into their beds and put them to sleep; amidst all that rough and tough and wild-as-can-be is a genuinely kind-hearted little man.

A month has passed since I started writing this! Time is literally FLYING by. We've been to Florida and back and you were both excellent traveling buddies. Quality time with family was wonderful; it is absolutely incredible watching you bond with grandparents, aunties, uncles and cousins. Not to mention, we were all in desperate need of sunshine and humidity. Now we are back to Colorado and still in search of a new 'normal'.  This season of life is hard and excellent and I'm learning that's okay.. those two can co-exist.

Daniel, you are much more alert now; smiling and 'talking' to us, making our day everyday! We've found our routine (for now) and it feels good. You've had your first taste of watermelon and definitely approved. You're fighting a bit of a cold and have a love-hate relationship with the 'booger sucker'. Thankfully, you are handling it all like a champ. We are so thankful for your life and the blessing you are to each of us. We look forward to all that is to come and watching you grow and change each day.

Owen, you are now sleeping in a big-boy bed and continually amaze us with your gigantic vocabulary and remarkable ability to communicate. I just asked you if we should shoot hoops or do a puzzle and you replied, 'No, none of those options..' Your prayers melt me into a puddle and when you came running up to me to announce, 'Jesus lives in our HEARTS!' I thought my heart might explode. Have I mentioned that we are proud of you?! You also make us laugh all the time with your silly antics and well-timed movie quoting abilities. Don't ever stop being you, my little man.. because YOU are awesome.

I thank God for the privilege it is to be Mama to you both. Owen and Daniel, I love you with all of my heart. I'm so far from having any of this figured out and, lets be real, sometimes I'm a total wreck. But we can take this life one moment at a time; choosing laughter and grace as we journey together on this wild adventure.
xo