broken

Jeremiah 18:4 - But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.

I am in the process of being broken. The Lord has seen my heart and knows that I need Him in a different way than I have been receiving Him. So I am being broken. Being broken sucks. I am tired and on the verge of tears at any second. One bad thing seems to pile on top of another until I succumb and am a mess of tears and snot. Yesterday was one of those days. Sunday was one of those days. And I know that I am not done. I know that I could learn this lesson more quickly if I just submitted to the Lord right now and lay prostrate before him in complete submission. But I am afraid of what I am going to hear. I am afraid of being completely broken to the point of helplessness. I hate the feeling that I am no longer in control of my life. Because when I do I know that God will push me out of where I am comfortable, out into the place that is scary. He has already started and I am not happy about it. Because of a moment of obedience I am now involved in something that scares the living daylights out of me. What else does He have planned? What else is required for this process to be completed?

2 Corinthians 4:7-9 - But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.

When He called me into the ministry I willingly accepted that my life would never be my own - my own to choose what I wanted to do with it. That He would use me however He saw fit for His glory. But even though I submitted to His will over 14 years ago and accepted that my life was completely His, it doesn't make it any easier today. And because I have been through a breaking process many times before, and know what is at the end of it, I am scared and resistant to it. How broken am I going to be this time? How much am I going to have to give up? I know that I am going to have to rely on His strength to do things beyond me because He is going to ask me to.

"I can't do anything without you, you give me strength to do anything. I can't be everything I try to, you save me from the everything I couldn't be." - Plumb

I've been feeling like a failure lately. In my mothering, in my relationships, in my ministry, in pretty much everything I touch. And I am failed by those closest to me. When I turn to those around me I find that the comfort I normally find in them is gone and sometimes completely backfires and leaves me feeling much worse. Emotionally I am drained.

He is calling. He is more telling me I need to turn to him. My world will continue to crumble until I submit.

Psalm 34:18 - The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

I know that He is doing this because He loves me. I know that He wants to use me. I know He is there all around me even if I can't feel Him or even hear Him. Faith is scary. Faith is Him is not easy. Life is harder when you submit to His will. I'm so tired of fighting, but not yet ready to stop.

me, and only me

she just doesn't cry, she wails. She wants me. Only me. Annoyed that she is interrupting my hour of peace before I go to bed I put down the laptop and walk down the hall to get her. I look down at her tiny little frame in her crib, she is sitting up looking around for me, only me. And I am no longer annoyed at this small girl. I gently pick her up. I walk the four feet to my king sized bed and snuggle with her underneath the warm down duvet to protect us from the chill that always seems to linger in our room at night. I offer her my breast, but she doesn't want it. She snuggles into me calming down and her sobs turn into whimpers. She squirms a little as if she is too upset to calm herself down even though I responded to her within a minute of her initial cries. As her tiny frame finally conforms to my body, my arms wrap themselves around her to protect her from whatever woke her from her sweet slumber. Her breathing becomes peaceful as my body provides enough warmth to make a cozy spot for her to finally relax in complete surrender. It was me she wanted, not my milk, just me. And in this moment my heart is full. I am a mommy, a real mommy. And this little girl that has melted into me, who needed me and only me proves it. Her complete trust, her feeling safe only in my arms proves it. It is the most wonderful feeling in the entire world to be loved, to be needed, to be wanted like that. Nothing can compare.

There are small moments I feel complete. I feel normal. There are moments that I feel that it is okay to have the love of those two tiny children that call me mommy. That I am worth their love and affection, well maybe not worth, or even worthy, but it is okay that the world has allowed me to be a mother.

In those small moments I try desperately to push anything but my two children that are under our roof out of my mind. No hurt of - I missed this, or I didn't get to do this with them. But sometimes I can't help it, Sometimes my joy is ruined by my loss. And I am angry. Angry at myself, for letting a wonderful moment be ruined by my inability to cope with my past, with my loss. And I tell myself next time I am going to enjoy my children and not let this all consuming sadness that lingers in my heart also consume their childhood. I'm getting better, but as I get better I find myself building a wall against the past, against the pain that I can't seem to face. I build it against those two precious innocent boys that I haven’t seen in 9 years. I find solace in making them into something not so real, because they are so intangible to me that they are almost a dream.

The thought that entered my mind last night that ruined that wonderful moment? "I know that she isn't the kind of mom that would take my boys back to bed with her and snuggle until their sweet tiny bodies surrendered once again to sleep." And it kills me. My children, are they okay without that? The children under my roof need it - they need to be loved like that, need that affection. It hurts so much that my twins might have missed something only I could give them in order to gain something else that I thought was more important than me. Why couldn't God have worked it out so that I could have picked them up in the middle of the night and given them what they needed? Me and only me. Why couldn't I have been the One? Why couldn't I have been their mommy, their everything?
____________________________________

I hope when my sweet little Princess wakes up tonight it is all about her. I just want to be her mommy and Bear's mommy too. Not a mommy that aches with longing arms for something that can never be. Because to the Bear and the Princess I am mommy, me and only me - that is real, that is now and I will continue to endeavor to cherish those moments for the rest of my life without the sadness that seems to haunt them.

fa la la *crash* ut oh!

and with that a whole 1/2 gallon of Oberweis eggnog - almost 6 bucks for a bottle is all over the floor. Glass everywhere, eggnog yet to be tasted spreading across the floor. But not to be beaten I stuck my finger in it at the risk of ingesting glass and tasted. Two huge thumbs up for Oberweis, if you like eggnog this is what eggnog is suppose to taste like. We WILL buy another bottle.

And lucky for my little Bear he was wearing shoes at the time of the incident so his feet suffered no injuries. Mommy's foot however still hurts from that rouge piece of glass that made her foot bleed.

Just a side note to anyone who cares - eggnog is really really really hard to get off the floor. Four washings later and I think the stickyness is gone. I think. I will have to let it dry to see...

not enough ______, too much _________

i haven’t written a good adoption post for a couple months now. There has been a reason for that. I’m avoiding. That and I have too much to say that really can’t be said. That is why I’ve titled this the way I have. I am going to try to attempt to get some of these thoughts out of my head so that maybe I can have a little peace if only for a few hours.

Not enough sleep. I am so tired. The dreams that I have been having are horrible. I dream constantly about Calvin and Hobbies (my new name for my twins). In the last dream I had the birth father got to go visit them. In my dreams about the twins I always get to visit them, or at least see them in varying degrees. And that wakes me up with too much longing, but the horrid part is that those longings don’t go away a couple minutes after I wake up. Those stay with me all day. All week. Sometimes all month. But the problem is that even in my most hopeful moments I know the adoptive parents would never let me have a visit. So that longing will be unfulfilled. I will never see their eleven year old faces in person, only in a photo. Only in my dreams.

Not enough willpower to stay away from the adoption community on the internet. Why do I subject myself to this? Why? When things are said like:

"im an adoptee and im tired of hearing these birthmothers saying how the agencies stole there children i dont belive that one bit i think there just not taking the responsabitires of there actions they chose to give up ther child nobody forced them i think they just dont want the responsabilty of rasing a child so they dump the child on some fool that thinks they should raise a child thats how my adoptive parents made me see it the birrthmom would rather go out and party than change diapers i think a mother that thinks like this shouldnt be aloud to have anymore children after she gives up a child have there rights taken away for once instaed of the adoptees rights."

Now I know I have to take these things with a grain of salt, but there are adoptees out there that feel that way and adoptive parents saying horrid stuff about birth mothers. And it breaks my heart even more. I try to stick to the boards but that isn’t much better. Happy gottcha day, I’m a mommy now (before termination of the birth mom’s rights) posts abound. Let’s not forget the combative adoptive moms that pretend to care (or at least in their own head think that they are being caring, when really they are being condescending). We are talked down to like we are small children, when really I have more education, have lived this longer, and am older then a good portion of them. Honestly they might not see their own insecurities, but they come out loud and clear to anyone remotely trained in the helping profession. I just shake my head as too much frustration builds, and I need to walk away. But I feel like the proverbial dog returning to its vomit when it comes to the boards.

Not enough trust in the public school system. My almost three year old went to school yesterday so he can learn to speak. I almost had too many panic attacks to count. That is a whole post in and of itself that I really don’t want to get into today.

Not enough patience with my children, but too much fear to leave them with someone so that I could get a break. So we are watching way too much t.v. I feel like the worst mom in the world.

Not enough energy to clean my house, but too many good ingredients to waste and so I add to the mess by baking and cooking and leave the mess for my husband. Poor guy. But it has been my only release. At least the poor neglected children and husband are eating well.

Not enough time with my husband. He is working crazy hours as a UPS driver right now. Some days he is gone for 14 hours a day. There has been more than one night he got home close to 10pm. And I am so frustrated because the church he is a part time pastor is at doesn’t understand. It is Christmas time after all! So they are asking for more time from him too. So I am spending too much time alone. I miss my support system.

Not enough guts to write a letter to the Calvin and Hobbes, but getting impatient to send off the letter to the adoptive parents that has been ready for months. I have too much fear about letter writing in general and this time, well I think this might be the death of me.

Not enough money. Too much demand for it. $1,400 is due so that my hubby and I can keep our licenses as ministers. Ya know couldn’t they do it in July? Christmas is such and awful time for these things to be due.

All these things together culminated into what I can only assume is the beginning of an ulcer. Last night I was in so much pain I could barley breathe. I’m not sure what to do about it. I didn’t have my coffee this morning, but that makes me more crabby. I am sore and frustrated about the whole thing. It’s been years since I let things get to me like this. On top of that we are weaning the Bear off his pacifier. Why now Bear’s Mommy? Good question, internet. Good question. Simply my house is such a mess that I couldn’t find one at nap time, and well it was my only option. So Elmo came and took all the Bear’s paci’s for all the poor kids for Christmas when he was at school. It just popped out of my mouth. I think I’ve lost it. Really I have.

So there is my humongous whiny post. I could go on, but I think if you’ve made it this far you get the point. If you made it though than obviously you care so please pray for my sanity, pray for my poor tummy, and pray that I find a constructive way to deal with my stress. Oh and pray that I will have the kahonas to write that darn Christmas letter.

l.a.

i don't often do this, but it think this is so neat and for some reason the music and the video fit my mood. enjoy.