My Mother's Day Revelation

About a week ago a wonderful woman I know announced a contest of sorts through her organization Xylem Family Resource. All one had to do was write a note about their favorite part of being a mom. I have been thinking about it a lot since then because I honestly could not pin down what my favorite part was. Well this morning I think I got it, even though it is too late for the contest. So I will share it here because, honestly, it is pretty awesome!

I guess in my heart and soul I have always known my favorite part of being a mom, but today is when the words came to express that. Well at least as well as words can.

I am immensely blessed when it comes to Mothers. See I have one wonderful mother, the one who I was formed in, who grew me and brought me into this world. This mother I have never met because shortly after my birth she relinquished me so that I could have a better life than what she could offer me. You see, although she came from a large, loving and supportive family, she was a student and was single. She knew the life she wanted for me was more than she could give, and that there were families out there praying for the baby she carried, who would be able to give her child everything she hoped for. That kind of love leaves a mark on someone.

And then there is my mom. The most amazing, smart, loving, funny, beautiful, faithful, God loving, wise, and kind woman I have ever known. She is the one who told me about boys, braided my hair, and taught me how to cook and how to apply mascara. She is the one my kids call Grandma and who I call when I forget a recipe or just need to talk. She grounds me and loves me exactly as I am. That kind of love changes a person.

Growing up I never felt unwanted or abandoned. My mom and dad did an amazing job telling me what little we know about my birth parents, and always told me it was out of self-sacrificing love that my birth mom gave me up. I always felt as much a part of the family as my by-birth relatives. I always felt like a gift, a miracle, and that security gave me wings.

One thing I did miss growing up was having people who looked like me. Sure my parents and brother and I have similar features, (to the point in high school I lost friends because they thought I was lying about being adopted,) but nothing like having my mother’s nose or grandpa’s chin or dad’s eyes. So when my first was born I so hoped and prayed he would look just like me. He didn’t. In truth he is nearly identical to his dad. Identical except for one thing. When Z was about a week old I noticed it. He has my hands. Wrapped around my finger was the most perfect and identical miniature version of me. I burst into tears, quickly wiping them away so I could continue to gaze at them. I think I stared at his hands for hours a day. I still marvel at them. (And my other 2 kids have my hands too!)

So what’s the point, you may be asking. Here it is. The thing I realized this morning, what is my most favorite part of being a mother, is that I get to pass on the most wonderful aspects of my mothers. From physical characteristics that may be from my birth mom, to the importance of God in my life from my mom – these are the gifts I am honored to give to my children. The immensity of my love for my children is funneled down to them from the immense love I have been given by my earthly mothers. I know what it is like to be unconditionally, intensely and unceasingly loved by women of strength and character. I pray I can live up to their example and let my kids experience that too.

I Just Want You To Like Me!

Everyday on the way to and from my kids' school I drive past 2 houses that house 2 people that I don't like. I won't get into the "whys" because they do not matter. What does matter is that twice a day everyday I have to face the fact that they are there, and the uncomfortable emotions that well up inside of me. You see I used to like these 2 families. Quite a lot actually. But then something happened that tore apart those relationships and I am having a hard time getting past that. I have spent a lot of time praying that I could just get over it, forgive what needs to be forgiven, and to move on being able to genuinely wish them the best. I have made great progress in these areas and really do not miss having either of these people in my life. Still I drive past and cannot stop that bubbling up from my stomach and chest that is a strange mix of sadness and anger and something else. Self righteousness? Remorse? Shame? I can't put my finger on it. I know I don't like it though.

Today as I was returning home from the kids' school I passed house #1 and the emotions began to well up. I got frustrated with myself and began to pray for the first time that God show me why am I feeling this way? God is so good and so faithful. I finally get it. I am bothered by the fact that these people do not like me, but more so that they believe things about me that are absolutely untrue and there is nothing I can do about it!!! Eureka! Being able to finally identify it I can begin to move on.

Now I have no desire what so ever to have these people back into my life so I will not be approaching them or anything like that. No, this is something I have to do for myself and within myself. I cannot control how others think and feel about me or anything else. I have to accept that some people will just not *gasp* like me. [Deep breath, Deann. You'll be OK.]

I wish I could be the type of person who is who she is and doesn't get bothered by what others think about her. But that is not how God made me. I am bothered by being unliked and misunderstood. Not sure what to do with this revelation, but I am sure glad I have had it! And I trust as I grow in God that I will begin to focus more on Who does like me and not worry so much about everyone else. :)

I am obsessed. My thoughts and emotions are consumed by my heartbreak. Too dramatic? Perhaps, but also far too true. To be honest it is difficult to find words to explain what I am thinking and feeling because I cannot even get them organized in my own head. I am scattered and distracted but also convicted that I have to do what small I can to make a positive influence. My thoughts and therefore my writing is going to be scattered and may be hard to follow. I apologize in advance.

Let me back up first. For those of you who have noticed my recent Facebook activity you probably can gather where my thoughts are. For those of you who have not, let me explain. About two weeks ago a lovely 8 year old girl, Lydia, died as a result of serious abuse from her parents, Kevin and Elizabeth Schatz. Her younger sister was hospitalized in critical condition because of the same session. I say session because through the other 7 children in the house (9 total, 6 biological, 3 adopted), we know that these beatings were a regular occurrence. The parents followed the “teachings” of the No Greater Joy “Ministries” and the founders Michael and Debi Pearl. I will not go into depth here what these two teach, but the Schatzes followed their teachings and took to beating their children with a length of plumbing tubing as a way to train their children to be sinless, which is only part of the heinous ideas the Pearls encourage. If you want to know the story in better detail I encourage you to read the blogs I have been reading, which are written by and husband and wife that knew the Schatz family – Laurie & Paul.

** Side note - I think that it is important to know all I can about things like this but I refuse to sully this blog by linking to the Pearls’ website. They are denying all responsibility for this death, for the explosion within this family and their community. It is also important to know this is not the first child to die as a result of their teachings. However, that is your choice and I will not force those evils upon you.

This story has touched me on such a deep level that I simply must act. It is like breathing – if I do not do it I will most certainly die. I have always been a tender person, sensitive, compassionate, quick to cry, and deeply feeling. I used to think this was in a flaw of mine. I would be teased by friends, family and schoolmates for crying at the drop of a hat, frequently over pains that did not directly effect me, or effected my beyond what was considered appropriate. I now know that God made me this way and that these traits are actually gifts He has given me to use to glorify Him.

But how? What am I supposed to do? As I struggle to get my thoughts organized I write. I welcome you to hear what I am thinking and offer any opinions, thoughts or whatever.

First it begins at the “teachings” from the Pearls and the churches that support their beliefs. I know that I know that I know that the idea of sinless human is an impossible and foolish idea. However there are teachers and pastors and denominations that vehemently believe and teach this – that there is some way we can earn heaven, earn God’s favor and grace by our actions and performance. The Bible plainly says otherwise again and again. “No one can come to the Father except through Me,” ring any bells? (John 14:6)

These hate filled teachings (if you can even call them that), are in my opinion born from the deepest pits of hell, are disguised as God’s plan for us and lead people to believe that our God is an angry, abusive, hateful God just waiting fo rus to mess up so he can lay into us. The exact opposite is true! He loves us! He made us just so he could love us! We are His pride, His treasure, His masterpieces! He loves us with a fierceness we cannot imagine! And my heart breaks for all the poor souls, even the Pearls, who believe otherwise.
(For proof see Romans 5:5, 8, and 8:38, 2Timothy 1:7, 1John 4:7 just to name a few.)

So I sit here, furiously typing and thinking (frustrated that I cannot match the two better,) and praying that God will reveal to me why He made me the way He did, and how He wishes me to use my gifts of tears and a servant’s-heart to His glory. I am so sad for the family, the children, their friends, and even so sad for the parents. More I am so angry at the parents, their church, the Pearls and anyone else who spreads this brand of fear, hate and lies. And in my anger I cling to these words:

" Dear friends, let us continue to love one another, for love comes from God. Anyone who loves is born of God and knows God. But anyone who does not love does not know God--for God is love. God showed how much he loved us by sending his only Son into the world so that we might have eternal life through him. This is real love. It is not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins. Dear friends, since God loved us that much, we surely ought to love each other. No one has ever seen God. But if we love each other, God lives in us, and his love has been brought to full expression through us. And God has given us his Spirit as proof that we live in him and he in us. . . And as we live in God, our love grows more perfect. So we will not be afraid on the day of judgment, but we can face him with confidence because we are like Christ here in this world. Such love has no fear because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of judgment, and this shows that his love has not been perfected in us. "
1 John 4: 7-13, 17-18

Faith Like a Child

Today E was happily playing by herself in her room. She was playing with checker pieces, stacking and counting and organizing them by their color or the Disney Princess that was on them. She was so quiet and content I became concerned and called out to her. Hearing her voice was not enough reassurance so I hurried up the stairs to SEE her. I was not worried that she was injured or into anything she shouldn't be, but she still I needed to see her. I missed her, even though she had only been away from me for a short time.

As I type this I am having a revelation. (God always uses my kids to get to me!) It makes me realize how often I am not with Him, how often I am quiet from Him and how He might feel about all this. He calls out to me to make sure I am OK. If my answer does not convince Him, He comes to me closer with a touch, a song or through a friend. He misses me and just wants me to be with Him ALL THE TIME!

A few minutes passed and E came downstairs with a game to play. It is one of those fishing games where the base spins and the fish's mouths open and you try to hook them. She and I put new batteries in it and she was off and running. After a few minutes I was able to join her and we noticed the game was spinning slowly. Then it stopped. We shut it off and then back on. Nothing. We shut it off for longer and when she turned it back on it worked. Then I noticed the smell. Anyone with toys that have small motors knows that smell. Like hot plastic or something. Not a good sign.

We finished our game with me gently helping the game spin. When we were done I explained the game was broken so we could not play it anymore. E asked if I could change the batteries. I explained to her that it was not a problem with the batteries but with the motor. "Can you change the motor?" she asked, fully confident my answer would be "Of course!" Did I tell you I did NOT graduate from MIT? Yeah. This is beyond my scope. I was so touched though by her faith in me and her honest confusion that I could not fix this. She was not upset about it, just perplexed. As I type she is still playing with the game, mixing the fish up, arranging and rearranging them in the game, and trying to spin it by hand and fish at the same time. I guess that is my cue to get off the computer and go play with my daughter some more.

I [Heart] Thanksgiving!!!

For as long as I can remember, Thanksgiving has been one of my favorite holidays. As a child it was my parents that hosted all of our family and friends for dinner. Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, and friends would come over, each bringing a dish to share. Our house would be filled with talking and laughter. The kids would run around and play. If it was snowy we would sled, build snowmen and have snowball fights. Sometimes even the adults would join in! My cousin's Portuguese grandma (Vovo) would bring her fabulous pastries which we would all fight to get to first. My dad would wake up early to start his turkey, which he would slave over all day. Frequently the Sunday before we would have a Pre-Thanksgiving feast to make sure we have enough food for everyone! There was usually about 30 people in our tiny house. I can remember bringing in the old picnic table from outside just so most people could find a seat, and still we had to fight for a spot to sit down. Dad would get frustrated because everyone wanted to gather in the kitchen, but in the end always said that it was one of the best Thanksgivings ever.

Now as a parent it is such a blessing that my family has continued this tradition. My cousin and her husband host now since my parents have moved out of state. We still typically have 20-30 people there and Vovo still brings her amazing pastries.

This consistency is in thanks to my Grandpa on my mom’s side, who always instilled that family comes first. He made his six children promise to keep getting together for the holidays and that promise has since been upheld by my generation. I am so fortunate that I have this foundation on which to build my family. In troubled times I rely on legacies like these. It is one of the many things we give thanks for.

My Aunt Mary (my mom's sister. They look like twins but aren't. Their youngest brothers are though.)

Aunt Maria and her mom (Vovo )

Cousin Sarah and her handsome men, Collin and Adam

Vovo, our oldest living relative, and my cousin Ben's daughter Emily, the youngest and her Great-Granddaughter

Aunt Kathleen and Cousin Sarah (the hostess with the mostest!)