Tears Falling Down

As summers go, this one's been a doozy. We've been on what has felt like a turbo-speed roller coaster with one significant life event after another coming at us, and for extra fun, there have been all sorts of "bonus" ingredients thrown in. We hit the ground running in May with both a high school and a college graduation for our oldest girls, followed by a fabulous family vacation out east. We've had job changes including a first "grown-up job" for our college graduate and lots of transitions. We've had Rob away for 6 weeks for work, which has been hard on the whole family. Yesterday, we added another milestone to the pile as we helped Kate lug mounds of pillows, tubs of clothes, and totes full of everything she could possibly need to move her into her dorm at college.

Since this is child #2 at our house setting off to college, one might think that it would be a little easier. One would be wrong. As we made the 4 1/2 hour drive to the Iowa campus, raindrops sprinkling from the sky quickly turned into torrents of rain. At several points the rain was so bad that it forced us to pull off the interstate and wait it out, turning that 4 1/2 hour drive into a 7 hour trek. At the time, I felt frustrated, worrying that it was going to cut into my time to settle my girl into her room or cause me to be driving home too late with my other kids. I grumbled to myself that if only the rain would let up, we could get on with our plans. I huffed about the fact that it's hardly rained all summer but THIS day it chooses to pour buckets on us all day long! I complained that it wasn't "fair" that I already had to do this without Rob because he was away for work, and now the rain was ruining it all! That pesky rain was surely an annoyance and a bother and could go away any time and it would be none too soon!

It was only after we arrived on campus, after we loaded all Kate's treasures into her room and got everything settled and set up for her...after we took her to the grocery store and took her to supper, after we got her settled back in her dorm and set out in the night to make our way back home that the truth occurred to me. God knew what He was doing. God always knows what He is doing. The rain was not an annoyance, it wasn't in the way. The rain was just what I needed. It was a distraction. It was God crying my tears for me. The tears I had inside that came later when I had room to be still and quiet but that were kept at bay while I needed them to be. God was crying with me and for me....He knows my heart and He knows the joy I find in watching each of my children grow into the amazing young people He created. He knows how excited I am for Kate and for all the adventures she will have at college over the next four years. But He also knows my mama heart and He knows the ache I feel when one of my babies is not in the nest. He knows I long for just a little more time and He knows that a little would never be enough. He wept with me today because He hurts when I hurt. Tomorrow, there will be more tears...tears as I walk by her too-empty, too-quiet bedroom. More tears as she's not there to laugh at a silly joke that only she and I would get and tears as she can't wander into my bedroom at night to sit and talk about nothing and about everything. But there will also be joy as I hear her excitement on the phone as she tells me about a friend she made, a professor she learns from, a new experience she has. And God will be there with me, experiencing that joy of watching our girl spread her wings and fly.  And that is a very good thing.

Finding Joy in the "Lasts"

There are many small things that we do for the last time as we are raising our children without realizing that we are doing them for the last time. There's the last time we rock them to sleep. The last time we give them a bath. The last time we help them brush their teeth. The last time we drive them to school. We might notice these things as they happen, but most often we simply realize later that we've stopped. And to me, it has always made me a little sad when I do. Not because I don't want my children to be independent. Because I do. Not because I don't understand that the process of them growing up involves them pulling away and doing for themselves what we've done for them. Because I get it. But because there is nothing in this world that I love more than my children and being their mom. Because every little milestone is a reminder that my time having them all under my roof is fleeting. When they were small, our universe revolved around our home...they came and went, usually with me, and I always knew where they were and I had this beautiful, wonderful life full of time with my babies. As they grow up, they are, naturally, busy with their own activities, friends, and busy-ness. And I just feel a little bit sad about the time that has passed.

Today was one of those lasts. I saw it coming. I wished it wasn't so. But it was. It was the *last* time I watched my Kate play soccer. For 14 years I have had a front row seat to watch my girl play the sport she loves more than any other. I've watched her play on countless fields, for countless coaches, with countless teammates. I've loved every second of it because she does and I love her. She's taught me to love this sport because her love for it is infectious. I cried as I watched her get hurt on a field in Kansas. I prayed as she went through a surgery and the therapy to get back and prayed even more as she went through a second surgery and MORE therapy. I cried when she stepped back on the field after 22 months. I cried when she scored her first goal after coming back and I cried at the goals that came after that. Because I love my girl. And I am so darn proud of her. There are many people who would have given up long ago. But she is strong and determined and fierce. And playing soccer after everything she's been through has been a tangible display of that for all of us to see. And tonight, in a playoff game in Sioux Falls, the chapter closed. And once again, I cried.

She may play again. You never know what will happen. Once upon a time she dreamed of playing in college, but then life happened and her dreams changed just a bit. And the truth is, her dreams have always been much bigger than soccer. The college she chooses will be chosen because it has the right fit academically, not based on whether it has a soccer program she could play for. And I wouldn't have that any other way. If she plays again, you can bet I will be there to watch, but this really might be it. Because this is one more of those things that will become part of her past. And this mama will always get at least a little weepy when I think about that. I can't help it.

So tonight I say goodbye to my days as a soccer mom (more accurately as *Kate's soccer mom*) with tears in my eyes because I will miss these days. They are days I will look back on fondly. They are days I will never forget. They are days that have truly been a blessing. And as we close this chapter, I will love keeping my front row seat to watch where this life takes Miss Kate. Because I have no doubt the next chapter will be just as much fun to watch. I love you, Kate. More and Always. Thank you for all the soccer memories. 

XOXOXOXO

Prayers and Joy

During this week one year ago, we were preparing for Kate's second ACL surgery in just 9 months. We had watched our girl overcome a setback and battle through her recovery and rehab and far exceed goals and expectations set by the amazing team who wanted to help her come back. Kate has always been fiercely competitive and willing to put in the work, so, to us, it was not surprising in the least that she would excel at rehab, too. This left us ALL (including her PT and her surgeon) shocked when she ended up back at square one just days after being cleared to go back to the soccer field. It just didn't seem possible!

So, as we prepared for her to go back into surgery, I worried that this would be too much. That coming back from a second, more involved surgery and going through another recovery and another rehab would be too heavy of a burden to carry for a seventeen year old girl. That being kept away from being active the way that she loves would be depressing. That missing not one, or even two, but THREE seasons of the sport she has always loved more than anything would just be too big of a blow for her to come back from. 

And so I did the only thing I could do...I prayed. I prayed that she could find the good in all of this. I prayed that she would see that we all have lessons we must learn and our circumstances provide the opportunities for that growth to happen. I prayed that her spirit would not be broken and that she would be able to rise above this roadblock and see it for what it was: just a bump in the road. I prayed that she would know in her heart just how blessed she is and how many know suffering that is real and hard and always, and so this bump, however big it may feel in the moment, is truly so, so small. And while I prayed, I watched. I watched her battle and work and push. I watched her grow and mature and change. I watched her find the good in her circumstances and recognize them for what they were. I watched her find a passion for the idea of helping others walk this journey she's been on and I watched her find ways to use her gifts and talents and consider God's plan for her life.

And now, today, more than 21 months since we first watched our Kate fall on that soccer field in Kansas, I see joy in her face and she takes small steps back onto the soccer field. I see joy in her face as we visit colleges and consider where life may take her just one year from now. I feel her joy as she meets each milestone in this journey and reaches for the next. And I am so full of joy and so full of gratitude. Because I know how blessed we are. Our child is battling back from an injury that has kept her from something she loves, but so many watch their children battle illness and pain that keeps them from LIVING!! I pray for eyes to always see this and a heart that doesn't forget to be grateful. Above all, though, I pray for all those watching their children suffer, in any capacity, because, as parents, we suffer right along with them.

Thank you, God, for my many, many blessings.

Amen.

The Beauty of Change

"There are risks and costs to a program of action, but they are far less than the long-range risks and costs of comfortable inaction." ~John F. Kennedy

Change. 

It's a big word for only being six letters.  Change is hard.  Change is uncomfortable.  Change can hurt.  But change is also growth.  Change is necessary.  Change is a part of life.  Change is beautiful.  And learning how to navigate (and maybe even thrive) in a changing world is an important life skill we need to work to provide for our children.

It is so easy to just "go with the flow" and accept things the way they are, simply because that is how they have always been.  But when our brain and our heart tell us that the way things are is not okay, we have a responsibility to address that.  In fact, as parents we have both a responsibility to address what isn't right and work to bring about change, but also a responsibility to raise children who will do the same.  And we all know that our children might hear what we say, but they will DO what we DO (and sometimes, that reality might scare us half to death, but it also needs to motivate us to be DO-ers, not just TALK-ers.)

Our family is in the middle of a series of changes that have come about as a result of us acknowledging and addressing some things that we have seen and feel with all of our hearts and all of our minds are not right for us.  It hasn't been easy and it has been a long time coming, but we are just happy to finally be on a path of change, instead of a state of "comfortable inaction."  We are excited to be making steps forward, and are grateful for every positive experience we have had as we've begun to make these changes.  We have all had the chance to meet new people (amazing people) who we would not have met had we chosen to stick with the status quo, and each new relationship built is truly a blessing.  We are excited about what is to come and look forward to the journey.

This process has not been without its share of bumps in the road, though, and our focus has not always been what it should have been.  We have often found ourselves lost in a sea of despair as we have focused on the negative and on trying to find a way to verbalize exactly what it was about the world surrounding our children that we were unhappy about.  The next step we got stuck on was wheel-spinning as we tried to swim against the stream and wished for change in a space where most others were content with things as they were.  Naturally, this left us feeling exhausted and frustrated as we struggled and struggled, with no progress.  It wasn't until we shifted our focus to finding real solutions and working to solve problems that we finally began to feel a sense of peace.  Once we made the leap to embrace one major change, it all began to make sense and the rest of the changes have been easier to approach.  We finally came to really understand that life is not about what happens around you or what happens TO you, but actually about what you choose to do about it...wallow in the negative and allow it to consume you, or focus on the positive and become a problem solver, finding a way to turn those lemons into lemonade! :)

My very favorite part of this period in our lives as a family has been watching my children thrive in the midst of change.  Seeing these kids embrace new experiences and jump in, with both feet, to unfamiliar situations and make friends and try new things is such a joy.  I have been so proud of them all as they have learned how to be themselves and have the confidence to know that they should never second-guess what comes naturally to them as long as they are being true to who they are and living a life designed to love and serve others.  I feel so blessed to have been chosen to be these kiddos' mom and to have the amazing opportunity to do this life with them.  I can't get over how often I watch them and think,"There is NO WAY I would have handled that with that much grace at their age!"  The truth is, my children have taught me more about how to love life and embrace change than I ever could have imagined and for that, I am beyond grateful!  

So, as we continue to enjoy our lazy summer days at home together and begin to think about preparing for a school year full of new adventures, I choose to live each day full of gratitude for all we have been blessed with and all we have to look forward to.  I also choose to see change as a beautiful, beautiful part of a life designed for growth and love, and know that it is a very good thing.

For the Love of the Game???

My mama-bear instincts are at full throttle.  I’m feeling so sad for our Kate as she had such an amazing weekend of soccer and her team went all the way to the championship game by playing so, so well.  It even ended the way she would hope with her team winning a hard-fought match to win 2-1.  What didn’t go so well was the shove she took from behind from an opposing player with less than 10 minutes left in the game.  This type of behavior had gone all during the duration of the game and went unchecked.  If I said it once, I said it 10 times that I didn’t care who won that game, I was just praying we could walk away from it with none of our girls injured.  Fast forward the the last 10 minutes and Kate being shoved down…she went down hard on her knee and didn’t get up.  Naturally I was sick, praying she hadn’t hit her head.  She did get up, but she was wobbly.  She tried to play through it, but after just a couple minutes, she knew she couldn’t and she signaled her coach that she needed to be pulled out.  That’s when I knew it was bad.  When the game was over, she hobbled over and shared that it was her knee.  She said it popped when she went down and it just didn’t “feel right.”  We iced it for a bit as we drove the many miles home and sent her to bed with prayers that a restful night’s sleep would be all the healing she would need.  We weren’t so lucky.  An appointment at the Orthopedic Clinic today revealed that she does, indeed, have an ACL injury.  The extent of that injury remains to be seen.  We will know more once the doctor has read the results of the MRI and she is seen again on Thursday morning.  Whatever it is, she will be okay.  It will all be okay.  Life is so much more than soccer.  She is sad and we are sad for her at the thought of her missing out on something she loves so much.  It is such a shame.  But it is more than a shame.

We went through this a few short weeks ago with Nick with his wrist, and now here we are with Kate's knee.  Neither injury needed to happen...both were the result of dirty playing that went unchecked by officials on the field and that was supported by coaches on the sideline.  I am under no illusion that our kids do not run the risk of getting hurt when they choose to play sports.  That is reality.  And if they get hurt in the normal course of play, then we accept that as part of their path.  When they get hurt because someone has been taught not to follow the rules and plays with an utter lack of sportsmanship, then that is another story altogether.  I just feel sad about the state of athletics for our children anymore...so much pressure put on so many kids to win at all costs.  I refuse to believe that children would intentionally hurt other children for the sake of a win for them...but when they have been taught that they only have value if they win, they will do that in whatever fashion they need to.  It is so sad, and not just for the sake of the kids who get hurt….it is sad for the sake of the kids doing the hurting, too.  

I have to wonder how we got here.  How did we get to a place where our children’s endeavors became more about us and what WE want and less about them and WHO they are?  I spent the weekend listening to parents say some pretty horrible things…expecting perfection out of children, criticizing choices the girls were making on the field, screaming at the officials, shouting directions to the girls on the field.  It was actually more than I could take a few different times and I found myself strategically placing my chair at a distance from everyone, just to try to avoid hearing it all.  It’s not right…and it is happening more and more and more.  I have never understood people’s belief that they have the right to critique, condemn, and criticize kids who are playing sports.  How is it that all of these people, most of whom never played a minute of the sport they are evaluating, believe they have all the answers and anything less than total compliance with their vision of play is a failure and they then have the right to judge and shout?  And how is it that all of these people do not understand that when they do this, they send the message to their children that anything less than winning makes them a failure?  That’s what is happening to our children…they must cheat, they must play with no sportsmanship, and they must do whatever it takes.  All for the sake of the win.   I feel sorry for the girl who did this to my Kate, just like I feel sorry for the boy who hurt my Nick.  Because my kids got hurt but they had parents who told them it would be okay and that they are not what they do.  My guess is those other kids don’t have that.  And that is sad.  I’m praying for a revolution…something that causes us all to stop and take stock of the messages we are sending our kids.  Something that makes us rock back on our heels and realize that this is not how God intends for our children’s lives to be…they are not meant to be pushed this hard and they are not meant to have so  much expected of them.  They are meant to follow the path God has laid out for them, and I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news for all those parents, but God does not have a path of Olympic athleticism or professional sports careers in store for all these kids.  Not even a little bit.

Round Two

Well, I did it.  Sort of.  I survived round two of this whole sending-my-child-off-to-college thing.  I feel a bit shell-shocked at this point.  It doesn't actually seem possible that this is actually my life.  You see, I didn't mean to, but somewhere along the way, I began to take my identity as "mom" to my kids.  I saw myself as the person who took care of these little people who needed me.  When they were small, that meant feeding them, bathing them, reading to them, loving them.  As they got older, it meant feeding them (always feeding them), reminding them to shower, reminding them to read, driving them (DRIVING THEM) everywhere, and as always loving them.  But the thing that is significant to me is that no matter how busy they were, no matter how crazy my life was as I played taxi driver, chef, laundress, errand-runner, and more, they were always there.  Even if they weren't here, they were THERE.  I always knew where they were, always knew who they were with, always knew that at the end of the day, I could peek in their rooms and listen to their breaths as they slept, knowing they were safe and, as always, loving them.  But college changes that.  Now, I still feed her, but it is different...now I send care packages with her favorite tea, her favorite dried fruit, her favorite granola bars.  I still remind her to take care of herself, to do her homework, to be careful, but I do it over the phone or by text.  I would give anything to go back to driving her everywhere, but I can't.  Now, she has to take planes, buses, trains, and cabs to get to school.  I still love her fiercely, but I have to do it from a distance, and it is different.  It is certainly less trauma-inducing the second time around (I haven't found myself in full-on sob mode yet anyway), but the "different" is sad to me.  I have always been Megan's mom, Kate's mom, Jake's mom, Nick's mom, Emma's mom, and I certainly always will be, but the reality of what that means in my life is changing every day...I can feel it.  The universe is tipping in our house...just the simple fact that it was easier to send Megan off to school is one sign.  Sending two to high school this year is another.  Attending our LAST elementary school open house last week is another.  Finding our house quiet more and more often as all the kids are off at soccer practice, work, football practice, friends' houses...it's unsettling.  I want nothing more than for my children to be healthy, happy, strong, independent, and I pray every day that God will guide them and lead them and protect them.  I know He will, I know I've done what I can and will keep doing what I can for as long as the universe doesn't fall off its axis, but the tipping...it's hard.  I will probably never know myself more fully than I have as a mom, and I will never stop being their mom, but what that means every day in my life, and in theirs, is changing, and I would give anything to go back to the me that I knew 19 years ago when I held my tiny 5 pound baby girl in my arms...I'd tell that mom to hang on and to never forget that the universe will tip someday. To hang on to every breath, every second, to drink it all in and savor it.  To love that baby girl, to love the others that would come later, and to know that being their mom is an honor, a privilege, a gift...to know that the hard work and crazy busy will be so worth it, but it won't last...someday the workload will lighten and she will long to have it back.  I would tell her to love those kids fiercely every single day and to memorize the moments, and I would tell her that she will be blessed beyond measure for all the days of her life, simply because God chose her to be their mom.  I know these things now, but I didn't know them then, and so as the universe tips, I find new footing, I take deep breaths, and I drink it all in because this time, too, will slip away as I go through round three, round four, and more.  Life is good, but it is different, and I am learning to let go of the old and embrace the new...and to hang on.

The Faith of a Child

Last night, my heart stopped.  I don’t know for how long…time was unimportant to me.  We had just finished dinner and the kids were so excited about how beautiful the weather was, so Jake, Nick, and Emma decided to go for a bike ride.  We did the standard reminders to wear bike helmets and stay together, and off they went.  Awhile later, Jake came back inside, and I didn’t ask questions.  I assumed they were back from their ride and that Nick and Emma were playing on the driveway.  It turns out I was wrong.  

The front door was open, with the breeze coming in through the screen door to let fresh air in the house.  The next thing I knew, someone was banging on our front door and ringing the doorbell.  I could hear a woman’s voice, our neighbor, yelling as I was rushing to the door, “Your little girl fell on her bike!!  It’s really bad!!”  I took off running, rushing past her on the front stoop as she ran after me, saying something about her daughter seeing my little girl fall and that she hit her head pretty bad.  I paid no attention to her…her words just ran together to me as I raced to the corner where I could see my Emma lying in the street with Nick standing over her.  What I saw when I got there will never, ever leave my mind. 

 

I have never been so scared…my baby girl was covered in blood.  It was running into her eyes and down her cheeks.  She was crying and screaming, and Nick was sobbing.  Rob was right behind me (he had stopped to put his shoes on, which was a very good thing since he had to carry Emma home) and so he asked her some questions, and then scooped her up to run home with her.  We grabbed ice packs and washcloths and raced to the hospital.  The whole way there as I held her in the back seat, she was in a state of panic.  She kept asking me, “Why was I on my bike? What was I doing? I thought I was having a dream!” It scared her that she couldn’t remember, so she just kept chanting what she did remember…her name, where she goes to school, her birthday, the names of her sisters and brothers, the names of her friends.  I kept telling her it was fine, and she didn’t need to be scared…but I was scared.  I was more scared than I ever have been.  I kept telling myself to calm down, to trust God and just to pray.  But trying to keep my focus on that was so hard.  I kept giving in to the panic…kept feeling like I was drowning in fear.  As we spent the next 5 hours in the ER as they did x-rays and CT scans, cleaned and stitched her wounds, and dealt with her nausea and vomiting, fear kept taking hold.  Feeling anxious, I called on some of my girlfriends, begging for prayers for peace, for healing, and of gratitude that she was wearing her helmet.  I would love to say that once I did that, I was able to remain perfectly calm, but that wouldn’t be true.  It was still such a struggle for me. 

 

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally came in and told us the CT scan looked perfect and that our focus would now just be on healing the cuts and scrapes.  Emma perked up shortly after that, and started to remember things…she remembered that Nick took off to go around the block and she decided to go, too, but chose to go the opposite way and was going to “meet him halfway.”  I know my Emma, and my guess is she decided to beat him to the halfway point, and so was riding fast.  She remembers turning the corner (which was covered in gravel), but that is it.  Clearly, the loose gravel sucked her bicycle tire over and that is how the accident happened.  Poor Nicholas came around the corner and found her like that.  He was so upset, and so worried about her.  He is such an amazing big brother and stayed right with her while the neighbors came to get us.  I am so, so proud of how much my children love each other, and that was never clearer to me than last night.  From Nick’s devotion to her on the corner to Kate’s jump-into-action attitude, thinking to grab Emma’s American Girl magazine to distract her and running to get her water at the hospital or to get the nurse to help when Emma was getting sick, to Jake’s concern and compassion, and Megan’s panic when she learned of the accident and felt helpless being so far away and anxiously waited to be able to talk to Emma on the phone…those five little people of mine are amazing individually, and amazing together.  They love one another with a fierce devotion and they stick together, no matter what.  When the ER doctor came to tell us the CT scan showed nothing, he said, “Well, it didn’t show nothing.  It showed you have a brain.  I know how sisters can be, so I don’t want to give her something to give you a hard time about.”  My girls just stared blankly at him.  I said, “I bet your sister wouldn’t do that to you.”  Kate said, “Maybe the boys would,” and smiled at Emma.  Emma just looked at her and said, “Not about something like this.  They would tease me about other things, but they wouldn’t tease me about this.”  She’s so right.  She knows how much she is loved.  She knows how scared we all were.  And she knows that she is not alone.  What she really knows about not being alone, though, is the true lesson in this story for me. 

 

As I sat holding Emma’s hand after they had finished the stitches, she said, “Well, that sermon was really good for me today!  God really IS with us always, even in the pits!”  Wow.  Just wow.  My children teach me something every day.  Today, my Emma taught me to have faith.  To trust.  To believe.  Because He is, and He was, and He always will be with us, in the good and in the not-so-good.  “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28  And that is a very good thing.