Where Was Jesus?

My heart breaks for these families. There is an irreparable hole in the lives of scores of families today. There is never a good time for such evil, but Christmas is an especially shattering time of year for such a senseless atrocity. A random blogger, saying they're praying for these families seems paltry, but just in case someone connected to this calamity is reading this, I'm so sorry for your loss and you are in my prayers.

In the wake of the Connecticut tragedy, blame is being slung all over the place. It's the gun's fault! It's the school's fault! It's the local government's fault! It's Adam Lanza's parents' fault! It's some counselor-somewhere-who-once-had-a-conversation-with-Adam's fault! 

May I make a suggestion?

It's Jesus' fault. 

Bold (and slightly sacrilegious) statement.

The Lanza family obviously had some struggles. Where was Jesus when their marriage failed? Why didn't Jesus reach out to them and dig deep into their hurting lives? How is it that Jesus was too busy to befriend a young man described as being "a little bit different"?* Didn't He think this family was worth His time and attention? I mean, sure it can be messy to truly invest in others, but think about how much brighter Friday, December 14th would have been had Jesus shown some compassion, friendship and love to this family. Maybe all Adam needed was just someone who could offer professional help. Maybe all Nancy needed was the support of other women who understood how difficult it is to be a single mom.

We are called to be Jesus' hands and feet. The blame is ours. We have failed yet again. I understand that every potential intervention may not have halted Friday's tragedy. We still should have been the hands and feet of Christ for the sake of the gospel. It's not just about reaching out to the families reeling from loss. It's also about reaching out to the people who seem "a little bit different". It's too late to rewind this piece of history, but it's not to late to rewrite the next chapter. However, our motivation cannot be that of self-preservation. Our motivation must be Christ and Christ alone. We don't get messy in people's lives in order to avoid tragedies in this life (although there is value in that). We get messy in people's lives in order to avoid the greatest tragedy: A life apart from God. 



Praying For Unquenchable Boldness,
Cynthia




*According to an ABC interview with Barbara Frey. 

Eraser Challenge

Every December approximately a bazillion blogs and articles crop up, instructing us in the finer ways of slowing down and enjoying the Christmas season. My inbox is flooded with well-meaning advice. As a blogger, I was feeling left out, so I figured why not make it a bazillion and one? 

Here's my simple two-step process:
1. Grab an eraser.
2. Apply it to your calendar.

BAM!

We are seriously over-thinking this. If you have too much going on in December, then finding time alone, taking a bubble bath, or shopping online is not going to solve the problem. Eliminating engagements on the calendar is. 

I promise you that not attending all three cookie exchanges will be OK. It seems every small group (Sunday School, MOPS, business, school, etc) feels obligated to have a Christmas party. Here's a novel idea: Don't. There are eleven other months in the year. Try one of those on for size. I think you'll find that group parties actually can occur outside of December. 

"Christmas" and "stress" are two words that should not go together with such familiar regularity. This season, go bold! Take a bubble bath because you have time, not because you need Calgon to take you away. 

Here's To Blank Spaces On The Calendar,
Cynthia

P.S. An insane December is indicative of an over-committed schedule all the live-long year. Carry the Eraser Challenge into January. 

I'm Just A Mom

Dear Acquaintance I Ran Into At The Market,

It was so good to see you! I'm happy for you and thrilled to see you using your talents so successfully. You've always had a "go-get-'em" spirit and I'm glad to note that hasn't changed.

I couldn't help but notice that as we chatted, you repeatedly referred to me as "just a stay-at-home mom." Usually people misspeak once and immediately start backpedaling, saying something like "Not that what you're doing isn't important. I just meant you're not employed somewhere. You have the toughest job on the planet!" Your lack of backpedaling spoke volumes. I was left with the distinct impression that you thought yourself better than I and that I was somehow wasting my purpose by staying home. I hope you will indulge me while I prove you wrong share my heart for a moment.

I'm not a fan of those stay-at-home mom salary comparisons. You know the ones: If a stay-at-home mom got paid for all the different hats she wears, she'd be raking in half a million dollars annually. Nurse, counselor, taxi driver, cook, seamstress, launderer, coach, and whathaveyou. I think it belittles the years of training and schooling some of these professions require. However, just because you can't put a price tag on my job doesn't diminish it's worth.

I may not be an RN, but I have the privilege of praying with my children when one of them is hurt and administering band-aids as well as love. I may not be a counselor, but I have the Wonderful Counselor in my corner every time I address a tear-stained face and a hurting heart. When we climb in our van, you would think we're the von Trapp family.* We sing it up often, and I don't care if anyone thinks it's cheesy. It's not always convenient, but I'm doing the best I can to train my girls to manage their own homes someday (whether they choose to work or stay at home, have children or never marry!). My daughters will know what a roux is and how to make one. Every meal isn't a culinary masterpiece, but every meal is an opportunity to connect as a family around the table. They will be able to sew a button on a shirt and remove stains from their clothes, because I have invested in their home education. That's more than a professional could ever hope to offer them.

Every morning I wake up to precious faces inches from mine, eager to discover the promises of a new day. The best alarm clocks in the world can't hold a candle to that. Every night before bed, kisses adorn my face while little arms wrap around my neck. That's light years better than the best make-up and designer jewelry money can buy.

I may not truly have the toughest job on the planet, but I believe I have one of the most important jobs in our society (regardless of whether I work outside the home or not). The moral, spiritual, professional and emotional success of the next generation is fundamentally dependent on the hard work of parenting them now. Intentional parenting is hard work and can leave me exhausted at the end of the day (or by happy hour). But it's a good kind of exhausted and a day well spent.

So, acquaintance, You may have it all together. I'd rather have my kids all together with me.
You may be trendy and sexy. For a season, I'll keep my postpartum flabbies and nursing-friendly shirts.**
You may be filthy-rich. We don't have a six-figure income or drive a luxury vehicle. We don't have the biggest house on the block or live in the ritziest neighborhood. I shop at Goodwill and Savers. Our birthday and Christmas budget is always small.

Despite all of this, I can't help but think I'm richer than you.***

Blessed To Be Just A Stay-At-Home Mom,
Cynthia


P.S. Wasn't it nice of me to refrain from going postpartum crazy on you? You're welcome.



*Minus the matching lederhosen and ability to sing on key.
**Besides the fact that my girls get to see me taking care of my body and working to get into shape again.
***After all, my off-brand bag from Ross and your Louis Vuitton handbag are both equally capable of holding diapers and spit rags.

Home Births and Midwives and Doulas Oh My!

OK, here's the deal: Some people like reading birth stories and some people think it's weird to share those details on the World Wide Web.

I'm in the latter camp.

However, home births are a question (as well as an eyebrow) raiser. So, in order to satisfy the curiosity of several readers, I'll set aside my qualms and share (some of) the details. Gentlemen, this serves as your warning. Read at your own risk.*

Let me break it down for you:
8-ish pm: Contractions began (and lasted all night)
6-ish am: Called Midwife and Doula
1:21 pm: Le Bebe makes grand entrance weighing 7 lbs, 13 oz and measuring 20" long.

Let me begin by saying, were I to have more biological children, I would not hesitate to have another home birth. I would call up my midwife so fast it would make your head spin. Let me also say that I had never seriously entertained the notion of having a doula present, but after having one VOLUNTEER her time, I would empty my little piggy bank to have her present for another birth. Of course, all of this is a moot point, unless God has an ace up His sleeve.

Fine, I'll quit stalling.

Due to contractions all night, I was already fairly exhausted when Carol and Laura arrived. I had given up trying to sleep by 2:00 am and timed contractions from then until I woke up my husband around 6:00 am.

This promised to be a long day. 

Carol began checking vitals and was a little concerned about Jubilee's heart rate. Her main concern was the umbilical cord and it's propensity to wrap around wee necks. Her calm demeanor took away every fear that I would normally associate with such a risk.** One of the things I was most excited about was the opportunity to labor and give birth in the water. If heart rates are uncooperative, this isn't an option. Thankfully, Jubilee decided to behave.

Unfortunately, my body didn't behave. Alas, the water was wonderful, but it stalled my labor and I had to get out or stay pregnant forever. I sat on a birthing stool (those aren't nearly as comfortable as birthing tubs) and eventually moved to the bed. I was not dilating in a timely manner and my strength was fading faster than labor was progressing. Carol had to help me dilate to a ten. Whoo-Whee, is that ever a hoot! Sign me up for that never. By the time serious pushing needed to happen, I was feeling a little rebellious and trying to figure out a way around pushing (apparently options are limited). I have never pushed so long, sweat so much or been left so hoarse as with this birth. God has a way of infusing us with just enough strength to go the distance. As I saw Carol pulling on Jubilee's noggin, I knew I just needed to muster up one more superwoman push.

I didn't, but God did. Seriously.

So, to summarize:

-Home births are amazing and I highly recommend you give it a whirl if you are able. I have never had serious postpartum depression-just the usual weepiness for a spell. I have not had one single rough emotional day. Not one. I can only credit that to being home and not under fluorescent lights, being poked and probed every two hours. Jubilee and I had the benefit of fresh air and sunshine from Day One. We didn't have to farm our kids out to friends, and they got to meet their newest sister moments after she was born. No one whisked Jubilee away to wash her. She didn't need a warmer. I did the warming. She was never separated from us. What a blessing!

-Midwives are amazing. No need to get defensive about why the world needs doctors and hospitals. Standard western medicine definitely serves a great purpose. However, it's not the end all, be all answer to everything. We have two children who were born in the hospital with an ObGyn. It just simply does not compare with the attention and care received from Carol. From the very first meeting, I felt that my midwife was invested in my pregnancy and delivery. Everything was explained to me. I wasn't made to feel like a convicted criminal for choosing to opt out of standard tests and procedures. (Can I get an "amen"?!?)

-Doulas are amazing. Having a doula present for our birth was unscripted. Just a couple days before Jubilee's arrival, Laura asked me if she could attend our home birth for the learning experience, but I think I learned more than she did! I admit, I didn't really "get it". I didn't understand the purpose and scope of a doula. I had chatted with Laura about her calling, but it's kind of like describing a show on Broadway; you really need to see it for yourself. Any attempts to explain it fall flat.  Basically, a doula does whatever needs doing. She is there to assist with the birthing (although I couldn't talk her into trading places with me), support the mom and dad, take care of older siblings, mop up vomit, hold a fan up to the flushed face of a tired mama. Whatever.

-Water births are amazing. OK, so even though I didn't have the joy of completing my labor/delivery in the water, I'm still sold on the benefits. It's worth it. Just invest in a few extra towels...

Lest anyone think Timothy was smoking cigars with the menfolk...He was boiling water (how cliche), applying counter-pressure, putting cool washcloths on my forehead, supporting my weight during contractions and being my all-around rock star husband, just as he was during the pregnancy and still is as he  tenderly cradles his newest daughter so I can catch a few more Z's.

Also, I was blessed to have my mama present. Hers was no easy task. She spent several days corralling, entertaining and feeding the children. All the while running hither and to for my needs. Cinderella had it good in comparison!

To answer a few common questions:

Did your girls watch?
We tried to talk Mikayla into catching Jubilee (anyone who knows Mikayla knows that there isn't enough money in the world...) They were in and out of the room throughout the labor. We left their level of involvement completely up to them. At times they helped comfort me, and when things got intense they were more than happy to stand outside the door and peek in periodically. We did have them exit for the placenta and other post-delivery fun.

Isn't there a huge mess to clean up afterward?
We're not pioneering it here. We took full advantage of modern conveniences such as garbage bags and plastic sheeting. Now, I didn't get drawn for clean-up duty, but it seemed to be a cinch.

What if something goes wrong?
These are midwives, not cavemen. They are well equipped to handle emergencies and know when transport to the hospital is in the best interest of mother and/or baby.

What do you do with stuff like the placenta? 
It's yours. You can do whatever you want with it. I put mine in a jar of formaldehyde to use as a table centerpiece.

Just kidding. I gifted it to someone.

Not kidding.***

So, there all you birth story junkies have it. Our birth story as told by moi.


Reveling In The Miracle Of Life,
Cynthia


P.S. In case you missed their links, go check out Carol and Laura's websites. If you live in the area and are pregnant or planning on being in the family way, call them both.

Also, I'm pretty sure this is the best way to use a birthing stool.

*And to think just the other day, a very kind gentleman encouraged me to keep on writing. The joke is on him today!
**It turns out, the umbilical cord was exactly where it was supposed to be and probably just got pinched between shoulders and pelvis...stuff.
***People on our Christmas list can relax. The recipient knows it was gifted to them. Otherwise, I would win "Lousiest Friend of the Year" award.

Moments Versus Milestones

I'd like to introduce you to our newest family member.
This is our sweet Jubilee!

She was born last month, healthy and dearly loved. Even if the former weren't a reality, the latter would still hold true. We all are quite smitten with this wee bundle.

There's something unique in knowing you're facing your last pregnancy, last labor, last delivery, last newborn, last...everything. I was very intentional throughout this pregnancy to savor every moment possible.* I even tried to soak in the miracle of labor and delivery.**

In the first few days of Jubilee's life, her sisters wanted to hold her non-stop. They were just as taken with how precious life is. After being asked for the umpteenth time, I told my oldest there would be plenty of days to hold her. Her answer resonated with me in a very tangible way. She said, "Yes, but not when she's this little." I looked my nine year-old in the eyes, and had to admit she was right. Have nine years really gone by since I was first made a mama? With Mikayla everything was new (shout out to all firstborns!) and it was so easy to get caught up in the milestones. I feel like I spent more time waiting in anticipation of what she would do next than truly reveling in what she was currently doing. Jubilee has already taught me an invaluable lesson:

Savor the moments, not the milestones.

There will always be new milestones, new achievements, new goals. Just don't let the moments go unnoticed. Moments are the stuff of life. I doubt Mikayla will be truly impressed that I cataloged her first smile. To be honest, I don't really care if anyone knows when she first sat up on her own. I want each of my children to know they are loved. I want the love of their family and their God to be firmly etched on their hearts and visible in their lives. That simply cannot be accomplished through baby books and a bazillion pictures. It can only be accomplished in the moments.***

I'm learning what a gift it is to be surprised by the milestones. Instead of pushing our oldest to learn to ride her bicycle without training wheels, she surprised us by figuring it out herself. There were no tears and no frustrations; just good old fashioned joy in the moment. The first tooth will pop out eventually (as will the rest of them). I will get around to taking a picture of their toothless smiles, but first we're going to celebrate those little steps toward growing up.

So, it is with joy (and a tad bit of nostalgia) that I look into this new chapter of life. I'm hanging up my maternity clothes and challenging myself to savor each precious, fleeting moment.

Each beautiful moment...

Overwhelmed With Blessings,
Cynthia


P.S. This was the last maternity shirt I wore. How fitting!****




*Yes, even the nausea and middle-of-the-night bathroom trips.
**Yeah, that one was a little bit tougher. More on that later (for those who care to read that kind of stuff).
***Don't get me wrong. Baby books are fantastic, and I love doing them for my girls. But they take a big, fat back seat to actually spending time with my girls.
****Aaaand thankfully it doesn't fit anymore.

Something For Everyone To Do

I feel like I've hit you hard this month. The global orphan crisis is formidable to look squarely in the face. Thank you for trudging through the ugliness of it with me. I'm convinced there is a no more accurate portrayal of God's love for us than adoption. In my absolute wretchedness, God picked me up, cleaned the filth off of me, gave me garments fit for a daughter of the King and called me His own. Can I not go and do likewise for the "least of these"?

This looks different for each person. There are a good number of ways to get involved in caring for the orphan:

1. Sponsor a child. Think of this as orphan prevention.*
2. Similarly, financial giving to sponsorship organizations helps families fight poverty, which is a leading motivation for giving a child up for adoption in Third World nations.
3. Shop! Especially this time of year, you're already shopping for gifts. Make it count. Purchase gifts that benefit African women, adoption fundraising, etc.**
4. Become a Guardian or Prayer Warrior for children on websites like Reese's Rainbow.
5. Advocate for orphans on social media sites.
6. Volunteer to help families who are fundraising for an adoption.
7. Give financially to adopting families and/or donate towards adoption grants.***
8. Recognize the unique challenges kinship adoptive families face (it's not easy being raised by your grandparents/aunts/uncles, and for them to raise their grand kids/nieces/nephews). It can be highly isolating for these families. Their stories are almost always tragic. Regard them just as you would any other adoptive family. They need your support!
9. Become foster certified to offer respite for foster families.****
10. Speaking of foster families, boy do they have a doozy of a job! Here are a couple of ways to assist foster families:
     A. Upon placement, meals can be a godsend, because they are running like crazy the first week (getting kiddos enrolled in school, therapy and counseling appointments set up, doctor's appointments, etc.). They also may need some clothes for their new kids, depending on what they already have in their stash.
     B. Upon reunification (or any other reason for leaving the foster family's home), support the family during their "regrouping" time. If there are other kids in the home, keep in mind, they just lost a sibling.
     C. Also, keep in mind that other kids already established in the home (either biological or prior adoptions) may or may not be thrilled with their new sibling(s). Be sensitive in assuming they are on board. (Thank you, Melissa, for bringing this to my attention).
     D. PRAYER!!!!!
11. Mentor foster children. Kids in group homes are not getting the one-on-one time they desperately crave.
12. Become foster parents.
13.Adopt.
14. How can you help foster kids and adopted children? I've already thrown out quite a few things to do (or not do), but here are a couple quick reminders:
     A. PRAYER!!!!
     B. Use discretion when talking with the parents. This may come as a surprise, but not all foster and adopted kids are deaf. They can hear your insensitive inquiries. Asking if their "real" parents died of AIDS, or are in jail, or did drugs is not cool.
     C. Along the same lines, these are children we are talking about, not fish in a fishbowl. Unless they are auditioning for American Idol, they probably don't want all the attention.

So there you go. Just a small list of possibilities. I urge you to not glibly skip over numbers 9-13. It's easy to assume those toughies are for someone else. But maybe. just maybe, one of those numbers is piercing your soul.

Thanks for walking through this challenging month with me.

Blessings,
Cynthia

P.S. A big, fat "Thank you" to Tiffany for sharing her Pinterest board with me. And for Lesley sharing her heart for foster care! You ladies rock my world. 


*Compassion International and World Vision are two great sponsorship organizations.
**Everything from Pampered Chef, Etsy, necklaces, coffee, etc. Check out my friend's Pinterest board. It's a veritable smorgasbord of amazingness, including fair trade options and opportunities galore to bless those in need and assist adoptive families in their fundraising. http://pinterest.com/abeautiful_mess/shopping-with-a-purpose/  
***Show Hope is just one of several reputable grant organizations. Just promise me you'll research the organization first. We don't want to pad the wallets of scammers.
****It's only necessary to become certified if you are going to babysit for an extended amount of time (ie. a weekend). Offering your friends an evening out without the kiddos (hint, hint) does NOT require certification.

The Day My Heart Broke

We were standing outside an orphanage, waiting for the drivers to unload our donations. I stood by like a helpless American while they hefted huge boxes down from the tops of their vans. A nearby window was open and there's nothing like a group of ferengis* to draw a crowd. In mere moments, the window was crowded to capacity with little arms straining to reach us. Their noses were drippy, their clothes were dingy and their eyes held unreserved, unwavering hope. They all said the same haunting word over and over.

Ah-by-ay, ah-by-ay, ah-by-ay...

Daddy? Daddy? Daddy? 

Are you my daddy?

As hard as it was to leave Sophia behind, it was bitterly more heartbreaking to leave these children. Sophia had a family. She was desired, loved and cherished. I was coming back for her. No one was coming for these children. Despite this horrible truth, their hope remained undimmed during our entire visit at their orphanage.

I firmly believe there are people reading these words, knowing God is telling you it's time. Your family is missing someone around the dinner table. Your movie nights need another child snuggled next to you on the couch. There's one more stocking to add to the mantel.

And somewhere there is a child waiting for you to be their ah-by-ay and eh-my-ay.**


Irreparably Broken For The Better,
Cynthia


P.S. I want to address ways other than adoption to help the orphan, but first will you please, please, please with a cherry on top spend earnest time in prayer, seeking God's heart for your family and keeping an open mind?


*Amharic for "non-black foreigner".
**It's probably obvious, but Amharic for "daddy" and "mama".