The Worst. Day, Ever.

Last Friday was truly the worst day ever. But it wasn't the circumstances that made the day so horrible; it was my response to them.

Days before I had suffered an epic disappointment, made worse by the pain that disappointment caused my daughter. And I was tired. Caring for special needs kids, especially kids with "hidden disabilities," is exhausting. The burdens and struggles, day in and day out, wear you down. And, I had just begun to understand the depth of my mental exhaustion. Normally a pretty laid-back kind of person, I don't generally freak out about anything. Lately, though, I have been freaking out about every. little. thing. Driving in a new place completely stressed me out; I had never experienced that emotion before. I didn't like it. 

So, I cried. For a long time. But not until I had spewed my hurt, frustration, and disappointment on my husband. He listened patiently while I spewed, comforted me while I cried, and generally did an amazing job taking care of me. 

For my part, as I cried and vented, it was like a dam burst. Every negative thing I had experienced came to mind. The glass was definitely half (or three-quarters) empty. Not my usual pattern, even feeling that way frustrated me. It was truly a no-win situation. 

And then God met me, in the midst of my despair. And He demonstrated the truth of His promise in 2 Timothy 2:13, that even if I am faithless, He remains faithful. I experienced that. 

Ultimately, God is good. Period. Not because He makes my life "feel" good. Not because He protects me from disappointment or heartache. God is good because He is. He just is.

Sometimes trusting God requires more faith than other times. Sometimes it is easy. But His goodness is not dependent on my circumstances. His goodness is dependent on His character. And His character can be completely trusted. You may disagree with me, thinking back over your own heartbreaking story of God's apparent unfaithfulness. Let me say now that I'm sorry you've experienced such heartache and pain. But your circumstances still don't define the character of God. His goodness can not be called into question because your life hasn't been what you wanted it to be. God's goodness certainly can not be called into question because my life hasn't been what I wanted it to be, but I can tell you for certain it has not been. 

If my life was what I wanted it to be, I would never experience disappointment.
I would never be lonely, or sad, or hungry, or tired, or uncomfortable. But without all those experiences, I would never be the person God has made me to be. The process, just like for a butterfly or baby chick, isn't easy or comfortable, but it is very, very good.

And so, my worst day ever turned into a pretty amazing experience of seeing God's faithfulness in spite of me.

Another Adventure

I am beginning a new blog. It will describe our journey with the GAPS diet, developed by Dr. Natasha Campbell-McBride. You can check out my first post here.

Don't worry...I'm not leaving; just adding a page where you can share my adventures, if you so choose, through the ups and downs of eating a very different (and ultra-strict) diet than most Americans. This will continue to be my soapbox, and I will continue to wax eloquent, even if nobody is listening.

Hopefully you will drop in from time to time, to check my progress. I'd definitely love to have you share the journey.

Keep Your Crown On

Women wear many hats. Some of us are wives. Some are mothers. We are all daughters, and many of us are sisters. We work in hospitals, board rooms, and bathrooms. Some of the time we soar like eagles. Other times, we fall flat on our faces.

And when we do, the world is quick to put a dunce cap on our heads.

The cap may say different things. One time it may say “Failure.” Another time it may say “Loser,” or “Stupid,” or “Worthless.” But ultimately the world is telling us that what we do is more important than who we are. And, even if we don’t admit it to anyone, much of the time, we believe that lie.

But God has a completely different hat for those who have been adopted into His family.

Ephesians 2:11-19 (NAS) reads (in part), “Therefore, remember that at one time you Gentiles (italics added)…remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. (bold and italics added). But now, in Christ Jesus, you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For He Himself is our peace, who has…broken down the…dividing wall of hostility…so making peace, that He might r4econcile us both (Israelites and Gentiles) to God in one body through the cross…for through Him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God. (bold and italics added)

For those of us who have been adopted into God’s family, as members of God’s household, we are princesses! The world can no longer define us based on our performance. God defines us by His!

But, when the world pulls out the dunce cap, it still fits. The choice then becomes, which hat are we going to wear? Which reality are we going to live in? What are we going to choose to embrace?

So much of the time, it seems, we choose to accept that dunce cap! I definitely do - far more often than I’d like to admit. Actually, as I type this, I’m wearing a cheap imitation tiara because I’m really struggling with the dunce cap labeled “Failure.” I feel like one. People I love have been disappointed in me, so “Disappointment” is blazoned across that cap, too. And, in my kitchen, the dirty dishes are breeding faster than I can wash them (of course, I’m not washing them right now…I’m typing on the computer, lol). It is easy to accept the hat the world wants to force on our heads. That is a choice I face every single day.

The truth is, though, no matter what else happens, no matter what hat the world tries to force on my head, that tiara is still there! It is always there. And it isn’t perched on my head because I deserve it. It has been placed there by the very Creator of the universe.

What I do with that knowledge can change everything.

And, the question becomes, will I keep my crown on, or not? 

Having put that cheap, plastic imitation tiara on my head has helped. My focus is not on my failings, but on my true identity. And as I focus on that, everything comes into perspective. I disappointed someone; I’m not a disappointment. I failed someone; I’m not a failure. I am so much more than a composite of my performances. I am a daughter of the One True King, and that says it all.

Family Adventures

In an effort to get more exercise, preserve my mental stability (or at least what's left), and just have fun, we embarked on an adventure to a local park. It was wonderful; the weather was perfect, the views amazing, and everyone enjoyed themselves. The process of getting out, though, gave me cause to question my reasoning.


My big girls were amazingly helpful, getting snacks packed, making lunch before we left, and even helping to get little ones in the van. Unfortunately, those little ones weren't as excited to get in the van as the rest of us were, so the process included some frustration and tears. But, finally we were on our way. After enjoying a couple of rather short trails, kids forged out on their own.  It would have been fine, but one little girl needed a potty stop. With no potty in sight and an urgency only a three year old can know, she took care of business on the hill top. But, she missed. So, I left big girls with little ones and headed back to the car.

Quickly assembling the necessary resources, I returned to find my youngest daughter not completely exposed to the elements; one of her big sisters had improvised with an extra (much too large) shirt, adequately covering all the important stuff and keeping the little girl from too much trauma. The rest of the hike/adventure went extremely well. I may even try to get out again!!

Hard lesson learned

I love camping. It is truly one of my favorite things to do. I love it so much that I have camped my way across the country, twice (and I was pregnant with babies number five and eight, respectively)! We camped all the way home from Alaska, too. After the last fifteen months, though, I think my camping career is going to be put on hold for a while. Managing my two younges at home is stressful enough; add the challenges of begin away from home, plus the extra effort required for camping, and you have a mess. What once brought refreshment and joy now simply brings exhaustion.


For the sake of my sanity, and to protect the innocent, I'll spare you the details. Just imagine the worst camping trip ever, then multiply it by a very stressed out mama, unusually hot AND cold weather, unrealistic expectations (by that stressed out mama), and eight children (two who need structure, don't do well with changes, and have physical challenges); you have a perfect storm!

The experience wasn't a total wash, however. I learned some very valuable lessons. You may have learned these quite some time ago, and not have a clue why it's taken me so long. My explanation? I am a slow learner, and I (generally) only learn from experience. Painful experience. So, here are the lessons I've learned:

• camping when exhausted is a bad idea
• camping with special-needs kids can be extra stressful (especially with two kids who fall more than the average bear, and you are cooking around a campfire), even if you've camped with them before
• camping after an incredibly stressful year is incredibly stupid and should not be attempted by the faint-of-heart  anyone!
• when you go camping under the above conditions, don't expect to have fun, and don't expect people (even the ones you are camping with) to understand why you are not having fun.

After the worst camping trip ever, I have made a decision; I am not going camping again, for a long, long, LONG time. It is just too hard. I've also learned something else; disappointment and adjusted expectations are the harsh realities of my new life. It is a hard lesson learned the hard way. But, now it is learned, along with a few other valuable lessons. Though God has me on a difficult journey through the desert, I am planning to do the rest of it in the comfort of my own home!

Yes; we did that on purpose...

Little man has discovered the toilet paper. Even with close supervision, he will somehow figure out how to grab the end of the toilet roll and run (in his halting little gait), toilet paper trailing behind him. I'd say our consumption of toilet paper has doubled greatly increased!

So, I decided to take drastic measures; I took the roll of toilet paper of the toilet paper roller! But, I forgot to tell all my children. They have been trained put the roll of toilet paper back ON the roller. Oops.

As my children have begun to understand my plan, the consumption of toilet paper decreased slightly. It has only decreased slightly because well-meaning guests continue to put the toilet paper back on the roller! I think I'm going to tape a sign just above the empty toilet paper holder, saying "Yes; we did this on purpose. Please do not replace the toilet paper roll." At this point, I'm not sure if we should go on to explain why, or simply leave it to their imagination. Or, perhaps I should post a photo of the little man making his get-away instead.

Renewing My Strength

Weary; someone used that word recently to describe how they were feeling. Not "tired;" they said they were weary. I can relate. Though my situation has improved greatly over the last few months (meaning I am doing more than simply surviving), I have by no means recovered from the struggles or stress of the last eighteen months.

According to the free online Merriam-Webster dictionary, weary means "exhausted in strength, endurance, vigor, or freshness" or "having one's patience, tolerance, or pleasure exhausted." However you define it, the indication is you are plain worn out.

That word describes how I feel; worn out.

The cries and struggles of my two youngest have drained me dryer than I imagined one could be drained. Simple tasks can feel overwhelming; sorting folded clothes for kids to put away or planning a menu (which I've done for years) is almost too much. I hate feeling like this. But, I do.

So, when a verse came to mind earlier this evening, I was very excited. It isn't a solution, per se, but rather an refreshing new perspective of a passage I've known for a very long time.

Isaiah 40:28 says God does not faint or grow weary. Instead, "He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might, He increases strength." (Isaiah 40:29 ESV) Isaiah goes on to say, "Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted, but those who wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength..." (Isaiah 40:31a  ESV).

It hit me; this verse isn't just (or primarily) about overcoming, like I've always thought. It is much more complex and precious. Though God doesn't grow weary, He understands that I do. Waiting on Him means my strength can be renewed. Why do I need my strength renewed if it isn't ebbing? This is written to people who are weary. I am weary. I can relate. And, God can help. What a comfort.

Scaling Mt Never-rest

Laundry is an ongoing challenge in a family of ten. Although, if I were to be completely honest, laundry was difficult when mine was only a family of three. But, I digress. In the interest of humoring others who may (or may not) share my challenge, this is to give you courage to scale the heights of Mt Washmore, Mt. Foldmore, pushing all the way to the very top of Mt. Never-rest, the highest height of motherdom.

The pile is what won't fit anywhere else.
The laundry sorter is full, the blue hamper in the  middle of the page is full.
Laundry is getting out of control!

Here is my exploding pile of laundry, and the photos just don't do justice. Although the pile looked huge when I cowered at its base, somehow it shrunk between the basement and the computer. So, you'll have to take my word for it; the pile is was HUGE. Later, I'll post some beautiful pictures of what it looks most of the time, when Mt. Washmore hasn't recently erupted and Mt. Foldmore is under control.

You are probably wondering, what did I do? How did I manage to so effortlessly scale the heights of Mt. Washmore? Well, the honest answer is, I didn't. My children did. Ah yes, I've learned the art of delegation. I'm mastering it, you might say. Each child is responsible to start and fold at least one basket of laundry a day. And, since we have an extra large capacity front-loading washer, each basket is at least two regular loads.

Though my children don't necessarily enjoy helping with laundry, they all understand the concept; you don't wash, you don't wear. I didn't really know how to do laundry when I left home. Somehow my clothes were always clean when I needed them, and every once in a (great) while, my mother would call me to come help hang Dad's work shirts when the buzzer buzzed on the dryer. Beyond that, laundry was a mystery.

You can imagine my shock, horror, and fear when I realized I must scale the heights of Mt. Washmore, on my own, regularly! Then, just when I was beginning to get the handle of Mt. Washmore, Mt. Foldmore erupted, explosively, all over my house! Adding to the craziness was the arrival of a new baby girl, complete with spit up and dirty (cloth) diapers. Suddenly I found myself at the base of Mt. Never-rest, quivering and quacking. It looked insurmountable, overwhelming, and beyond my ability to comprehend.

But, thanks to a few tips from other "climbers" I noticed the hand holds, the small steps that could be taken, and the ropes that would catch me when I fell. My favorite "rope" is the laundromat. Yes, the infamous laundromat, where you can wash and dry countless loads of laundry, all at once, and get them folded on tables specifically designed for that purpose.

It has been quite some time since I've resorted to taking all my clothes to the laundromat, but knowing that option is available does bring comfort.  In the end, though, my biggest piece of insight is, just keep swimming. Laundry, like dirty dishes or stinky toilets, never goes away. It just keeps being generated, day after day. And, as a very wise woman once told me, when the laundry piles and dish piles and chore piles finally go away, I'll miss the children who helped create them.  Until then, I'll keep climbing.

Streams in the Desert

Isaiah 35:4-7 is a familiar passage. I have heard it before, probably many times. But for some reason it leapt off the page at me when I read it a few days ago. In the English Standard Version, it reads "Say to those who have an anxious heart, "Be strong; fear not! Your God will come...He will come and save you...For waters break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water..."


It is kind of funny; I don't usually picture streams in deserts. They are dry, dusty places, without much rain (the qualification as a "desert" is based on rainfall, or the lack of it) and long distances between pools. Oases exist, but they are not common. And God is speaking to a people who understand deserts. The picture He paints is very clear, and powerful; God will save His people, and the desert in which they find themselves will be transformed. Wow; what an amazing picture!!

For me, the even more amazing part is that I've been experiencing it lately. God has not left me alone in this desert sojourn. Many wonderful people have come alongside me, through prayer, and other more practical methods (thank you Erica and Cynde). A dear friend, who does prayer counseling, spent an afternoon with me recently, and it was incredibly powerful. Since that time, my experience has been more like walking by the streams of living water than stumbling through a dry, dusty desert.

The funny part is, my life hasn't really changed. In addition to my two special-needs kids, one of my girls recently broke her ankle, for the second time in six months ( just weeks after corrective surgery!) and has some serious dietary deficiencies (she may also need major surgery on both her ankles), I spent the night (literally) in the ER with my five year old, and my oldest daughter apparently needs surgery to correct hip dysplasia. The saga with our youngest continues; a possible immune deficiency and allergies to common foods (dairy and eggs) have further complicated an already challenging situation. Yet, God is providing me with streams in this desert!

Don't get me wrong; my days are not full of beautiful scenes fit to inspire Norman Rockwell paintings. Laundry still piles up along the streams in my desert, and I get so tired of kids crying. Dinner still has to be set on the table (which requires making it, ahead of time), toilets still need to be cleaned, and mildew still grows in my shower. But, God is caring for me in the midst of this crazy time. He is tending my heart, bringing encouragement, and helping me see that I'm not alone, even when it feels like I am. This journey is still lonely, but I realize that the trail God has set before me parallels a stream, His stream, and from it I can draw refreshment, take courage, and journey for another day.

Yes, They Are All Mine

For years, I've admired the little stick figure stickers you see on the backs of vehicles. You know, the little sandals, or sea turtles; those kind of cute little stick figure drawings that tell you how many people are in the family. They are so cute and fun, proudly proclaiming to the world how many blessings you have in your family.



And, for years, I've wanted those cute stickers.




But, they are quite frivolous, and (to someone who is very practical) completely unnecessary. So, I have admired those stickers, but haven't been willing to invest in them. My girls noticed my interest, and conspired to bless me for Mother's Day.

Applying the stickers, of course, was a family affair.

First, we started with Mom and Dad...

Then we had to decide what order the rest of the family should go in. Since we had five girls before we had any boys, I didn't want people to be confused about multiples. So, we settled on alternating young kids with big kids, like this...

Finally, everyone was in their rightful place, with a little room to spare, prompting one of the girls to proclaim, "Look, Mom. We have room for more kids."

If you look closely, you'll notice the cat's tail is short and the dog is missing one leg; the girls wanted to be as authentic as possible.

Oh my goodness, you should see the looks we've gotten on the interstate! People starring as they go by, craning their necks around to get a clear view of the person driving, as though perhaps they would see something other than a human being. One woman, so I've been told, mouthed the words, "Wow" as she drove by. It has been quite entertaining, actually. We have enjoyed quite a bit of comic relief, laughing out loud on more than one occasion, thoroughly enjoying the "notoriety" our little stick figure stickers are bringing.

Now, to answer the obvious question; a sticker that says, "Yes, they are all mine." 

Taking the Next Step (through the desert)

Someone asked me recently how my day was going. The question caught me unprepared; I honestly didn't know. But, the question got me thinking; how was my day going? So, I stopped to think about it. Kids were crying, but only one at a time. My son was asleep (and he doesn't sleep well at all), I'd started a load of laundry, dressed and changed two kids, put out a fire (literally), and fed my kids. Plus, my hubby was coming home that night, and I had recovered from being sick. So, at that point, it had been a good day.  Unfortunately, things went downhill at that point.

Though it isn't worth detailing, I was discouraged and downtrodden, beat down by the daily battle to raise eight children (two with developmental delays), manage a busy home, and keep my mind. The lure to just stop was very tempting, though all my attempts to submit a resignation have been futile; God doesn't work that way.

So, I got back on my feet and took one more step. Taking that step was huge; my situation didn't change, but my attitude did. And, I could again look back over the day and focus on the highlights, realizing that even with the challenges and difficulties, the highlights outweighed the low points, and I really did have a good day.

Sometimes the hardest part of parenting, or life, is to take that next step, the one that comes after falling down AGAIN! Instead of focusing on the failures and falls, choosing to focus on the successes, no matter how small they may seem. So, I'm choosing to celebrate the successes (kids got three meals, some laundry did get done, and everyone got dressed before the day was over) in spite of what seems like overwhelming failures. According to some wise person (on a card I once read), Success is "getting up once oftener than you fall down." At least for now, by that definition, I'm choosing success.

Stuck in the Desert

As I type this, it is 3 am. Awake and in pain, it has been an interesting journey the last few days. My back is out (though I have no idea what I did); I have a large sliver in my foot (I know how that got there, but not how to get it out) that hurts if I move my foot wrong or touch it to sheets or bed; my youngest son has been throwing up (no idea why that is happening, either), and he threw up on me multiple times.

In spite of the misery, this journey is almost comical, honestly. The problems, the illness, the struggles just keep coming. No sooner has one issue been resolved or overcome than another takes its place. None of the problems are really life-threatening (though the baby's have been close), just difficult; they are draining emotionally and physically.

This journey through the desert is also very isolating. Friends are busy; their lives full of their own challenges and struggles, joys and adventures. Like the old song goes, nobody likes a party-pooper, and people stuck in the desert can easily become party-poopers.

So far, though, God's grace is enough. He is helping me (begin to) embrace this journey in the desert. He is bringing comfort and peace, showing me that this journey is His call on my life right now. As I embrace God's invitation to journey in the desert (and one can either embrace God's invitation or reject the blessings; the invitation cannot be refused), I can clearly see His hand at work, orchestrating details and proving His "Godness" in many little ways. As crazy as it sounds, I am even finding reasons to rejoice and celebrate in this desert of loneliness, isolation, abandonment, and exhaustion.

Somewhere in the Bible, it says that God will never give you more than you can handle. I've wondered how close to the limit He is willing to go (since I am pretty sure we've gotten right up to that line more than once), but as my journey continues, one lesson stands out above the rest; God can be trusted. Knowing I can trust the God of my salvation brings a comfort I can't explain. Do I wish this sojourn in the desert was over? Yes, definitely. But will I trade what God has been doing in my life, what He has been teaching me for a shortcut to a beautiful oasis and an end to the lessons? No! I do not want short-circuit God's plan for me, or miss out on what I will learn about Him along the way. Life, I am learning, is much more about the journey than the destination.

Journey through the desert

The last year has been long and difficult. It started with sickness; it ended with sickness. Isolation; journeying alone in the darkness of fatigue, disappointment, and discouragement. Failure, or perceived failure, perseverance, footprints in the sand.

Not every day has been filled with sand and dust. Simple pleasures and small successes; redefining success. Lowering expectations. Again. Seeing God's hand amidst the dunes, finding a quiet oasis of rest and refreshment.

Mothering was never my dream. Africa, medicine, evangelism, saving lives. Those were my aspirations. All sacrificed on the altar of obedience, though not willingly or completely. Taking up my cross daily, by changing diapers, wiping noses, teaching (unsuccessfully, it seems) reading, writing, arithmetic; teaching my children God's laws as we rise up, and when we fall down. Battling to focus on what is truly important instead of what the world values; helping my children do the same.

Finding gifts where they've never been before. Choosing to embrace gifts never expected or desired. Celebrating through tears.

Jesus spent time in the desert. He understands this journey, even if I don't. The lesson I am learning: trust. The gift; leaning on the everlasting arms, rediscovering true success and ultimate joy.

This journey is not over. I've only taken the first step. But if a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step, at least I'm on my way.