By Faith, I Shall Pack

We are back in that place - that vulnerable place - where we are going through the end of a pregnancy with an even-more-vulnerable girl who is faced with making the hardest decision of her life.

After our last experience, we weren't sure what to think when our social worker called about a new possible adoption.  Most people reminded me to temper any feelings of excitement, so as not to get so disappointed this time.  I have tried that for almost two weeks now, and I have decided that I am all done.  I am just going to dive head-first into all the emotions of it, and I am not going to even try to hold back.  Perhaps that makes me clinically insane, but... is that really news to anyone??

Here is the problem, I have spent a lifetime trying to "prepare myself" for all the horrible things that are coming my way.

Lara: "Oh, this is a happy marriage!"
Lara "Well, he's probably leavin' in a minute, so don't get too excited."
Lara: "Wow, I have been blessed with such a full, beautiful family."
Lara:  "Maybe they aren't beautiful, maybe they are all hideous and you're the only one who doesn't know it."
Lara: "Wow, I really think I am making some personal progress."
Lara: "Ha!  You can't even spell progress!"
Lara:  "I totally just spelled it correctly."
Lara: "Whatever, you didn't even get the underlying point - which is that you are pretty useless."
Lara: "That was mean. But you're probably right."

See!  I know how to temper all things positive and hopeful.  I can straight up ruin a good outlook like nobody's business. The problem is that if/when the other shoe drops, I am not really any more prepared by having been obsessively worrying and protecting myself, and "pre-hurting" certainly doesn't make it hurt less in the long run. The reality is that I have just pre-lived the nightmare before I even needed to. And in the case that no shoe drops... I lived a nightmare for no reason at all!

So, here I go. I am packing bags. I am packing for our family of six, and I am even packing for a seventh, just in case this maybe baby ends up being the "mistry baby" we have waited for for so long.

After another wonderful conversation with the young woman who is planning to have her baby adopted, (and a family member of hers who is her main support) we feel like we need to prepare for the reality that a baby might actually be coming home with us this time.

She expressed her desire to meet with us before the baby comes (he is due in a week, so we kinda gotta hussle!) and also that she would like us to be at the hospital when she goes into labor.

We reassured her that our support for her is not conditional, and that us being there to support her is not  based on any pressure or guilt or attempt to manipulate her into following through with her adoption plan.  Our heart is to be there and support her despite what she decides.  We truly want what is best for her and this baby, and I am thankful that we don't have to be the ones to decide what that is!

THIS truly explains our heart on the matter, and really it boils down to the fact that we love, because He first loved us.  Someone has to love first... so, we are just gonna start. She seems very decided and sure, and said that our conversation and the family member's approval and support of us was a "huge confirmation" for her. Call us crazy, but we are moving forward with pre-loving this woman and her child, opposed to pre-living the nightmare.

We will either live through a horrible situation or we won't... So, we have chosen to wait and just bravely do it once if we must, instead of doing it a thousand times over before we need to.

"Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste death but once." William Shakespeare

So let the packing begin...

Adoption Update: One Week Away

We are getting very close to when this little "maybe baby" is coming into the world.  The young woman with whom we have been speaking/texting is due in just over a week.  After everything we learned in October, we are very cautiously and reservedly optimistic that this situation will develop into us adopting this child.  "Optimistic" probably isn't the best word since, as I shared in my last post, it is not without great pain that we pursue the complexities of adoption... we believe that the best case scenario is for a child to be raised by his or her biological parents.  It is with a very heavy heart that we bring a child into our home, and away from his first mother.  That being said, we acknowledge that it is not always possible for a young woman to parent, and I will forever admire any woman in this situation who truly does her best for her child - whether that means single parenting, or making an adoption plan if she feels that is best.

We have another call scheduled for tomorrow, and this time a family member will join the call as well.  (Enter Tom's heart palpitations and full drawers.)  We hope to hear more about her thoughts and plans from her social worker today, as they are supposed to meet and discuss some plans/preferences for when the baby is born.  I have no idea what specifics they will come up with, but "curious" about her thoughts and plans would be the understatement of the century.  (Obsessively preoccupied would probably be a more accurate statement.)

Our communication over the past week has been really positive and even a little playful at times, she has been very careful and respectful of boundaries, despite the fact that we are probably less worried about that than she is at this point.  Still, it is a good sign that we could have a really healthy, open and ongoing relationship with her if she does choose to have us parent this baby.

Over the past week, we have have grieved with and prayed for two families who are suffering through all of the painful emotions of a disrupted adoption.  The heartbreak they are experiencing is overwhelming to me, and and this has, naturally, filled us with a good amount of trepidation moving forward.  It is certainly tempting to close our hearts off to this young woman who has our future in her hands, and I can understand why so many adoptive parents are tempted to keep birthmothers at a distance, but I can't help but admit that I feel like that is a fear-based decision rather than a love-based decision.

I want to operate out of faith and grace and love, rather than operating out of fear.  I am still learning what this even looks like, but this process is helping.  I sooo long for Harper to have a relationship with his first mom, and I can see how it effects him to be without that.  So, as scary as it is to keep moving forward... that is what we are doing.  One call and one text at a time, we are just moving forward in faith and grace and love... trusting that whatever she chooses will be her doing her absolute best for her child.  And if it just so happens that she chooses for us to have the privilege of adopting him, we will spend our lives doing our absolute best, and trying to include her and honor her every step of the way.

Capuano Adoption Update: Open to Love

Many have asked us how our phone meeting went with the expectant mom on Wednesday. I have had a really hard time figuring out a good way to answer that question. It seems that adoption is full of so many conflicting and paradoxical emotions that it is hard to describe.

Really, the conversation went a million times better than I could ever could have dreamed. From our end, we seemed to have a very natural connection. She asked us a lot of great questions, and had great answers for the questions we asked her. Considering the fact that we were getting to know (over the phone) a young woman with whom we may end up having a lifelong relationship, and doing so under such awkward and high pressure circumstances... It all went remarkably well!

The conflict is this: how in the world do we love this girl, support her, root for her, and then walk away with her baby?? Don't get me wrong, it's not at all that I don't want to parent this child if she continues with her adoption plan... I just don't know how to not be heartbroken about it all.

Adoption is like that though... It's beautiful, yes, but also messy. From something being taken from one, it is given to another. The moment a baby transfers from one mama to the next it is both tragic and joyful, an end and a beginning, a loss and also a gift.

I don't even know how to process these feelings I have that vacillate from excitement to fear to guilt to sadness. I have been accused of being an empath. (You know who you are Abby Hanson) and I am realizing more and more how very, very true that is about me. I absolutely cannot separate the paradoxes. I can't just feel excited about the possibility that we will welcome a baby boy into our family in the next couple of weeks, without also acknowledging what that means for his first mommy. The grief and sorrow she would most assuredly endure, while we are celebrating him joining our family.

This is why I am so thankful that Bethany Christian Services does such an awesome job counseling and advocating for expectant parents. I am thankful for the awesome ladies that we are working with to navigate all of these conflicting emotions and all the ups and downs. I am thankful for the heart these women have for protecting these little lives and all the people who are willing to love them.

More than anything though, I am thankful that none of this is up to me! I am thankful for a very sovereign God who loves this baby more than either of his potential moms! I am thankful that He loves me and that He is absolutely wild about this young woman... And that He will not abandon her for one single second. I am thankful that this decision is hers to make, and that while she seems sure now... God is still good and He's still enough if she changes her mind.

The desire of my heart is to have an open adoption. I want to spend this life taking the risk of loving others well and pouring myself out instead of always trying to figure out how to fill myself up. I would risk pain if it meant I would grow through suffering rather than stay small in the safety of my own self-protection. I know that navigating an open adoption is tricky and can be downright miserable at times... But I can't imagine the opportunities it would create, to love, serve and minister to this girl. And after just one conversation with her, I realized that I want to see her succeed just as much as my heart longs to parent another child.

If she continues to move forward with this adoption plan, I will brave all the paradoxes of fear, blessing, loss, grief and rejoicing... And I will choose to love not only this baby, but his mother, his first mother, the one who gave him life.

Capuano Adoption Journey: Meet a Maybe Mama

Tomorrow we have a phone meeting with a young woman who is interested in the possibility of us adopting her baby, who is due in just a couple of weeks.

We have never met with an expectant mom (potential birthmom) like this before, and it is both promising and very nerve-wracking. Or is it racking? I never really did learn the proper spelling, or what it actually means to wrack/rack ones nerves.

Either way, it is currently happening to my nerves. Tom and I are not feeling super prepared for the call because I have been in Portland for the past week visiting friends and welcoming their baby, Ava, into the world.

So, I am cramming for the oddest adoption experience to date. I wrote out some questions I anticipate she may ask, and some questions we will ask her. The idea for us will be to ask the same type of questions I would ask any woman who is expecting a child, some light ones that are easy to answer so she doesn't feel overwhelmed... along with some deeper questions to help us get to know her better, in case she does choose to entrust this child into our care.

I am listing the questions below, and answering some of the heavier ones she may ask us. This is mostly for me to process and prepare, but also a great opportunity to share our heart for adoption and answer some questions people often have, but don't always feel comfortable asking us.

Q's for expectant mom:
-How has your pregnancy been? (Any cravings, difficulty sleeping, complications, etc.)
-What are your hobbies? What do you like to do for fun/to relax?
-What kind of support do you have, friends/family/church/community?
-How can we support/be praying for you during this time?
-Why are you considering making an adoption plan?
-What personality trait, talent, or characteristic would you like your child to inherit from you?
-What are your hopes for your child's life?
-Is there anything you would like to know about us?
-If you chose to make an adoption plan, how much openness would you like? What would you prefer as far as visits/calls/pictures/letters?

Q's she may ask us:
-How did we meet?
-What is our parenting style?
-Why do we want to adopt?
A: We knew from the beginning that we wanted to adopt more than one child. We feel that it is really important for Harper (and our next child) to have a common experience with someone in his family. While he has plenty of sisters to go through life with, we think it will be very beneficial for them to have a common adoptive experience, as well as similar racial experience, etc. Life for a child who was adopted transracially is unique and challenging at times, the extra support and understanding of a sibling will be a really special and helpful experience.
-How will we answer adoption questions?
A: We are open, honest and straightforward when answering adoption questions from outsiders or from the children. We try to share how special and wonderful adoption is, but also that it can be devastatingly painful at times. We stress two basic things: that his first mom gave him life and and she gave him a family, two remarkable and sacrificial gifts. We talk about adoption frequently and casually so that the kids feel like they can talk about it whenever it pops in their mind, and that there are no "taboo" topics that will hurt our feelings to discuss.
-What is our primary hope for our children?
A: Our primary goal would be that all the kids become the men and women God created them to be. We want to give them a solid foundation in which they can grow to trust and follow Christ and strive to glorify Him always. We feel that (in addition to a solid biblical foundation) this is best achieved by giving the kids a variety of life experiences (traveling, camping, serving others, sports, art, school, dance, play, music, etc) all of which help develop the kids into their unique, individual selves. Often in large families, kids personalities start to blend together a bit... We try to be really mindful that people serve the Lord most effectively when they are free to be the unique person God designed them to be, using their individual gifts, passions and skill set. If they all started to look too much alike, I would be worried!
-What kind of support/community do we have?
-What are our hobbies/interests?
-What are our thoughts about openness?
A: We are very open to being open! We desire to have a relationship with our child's biological family, but will respect and honor the desire for space and privacy if that is preferred. We view our role to be that of facilitators of whatever relationship is best for our child. It is our belief that a relationship with positive and loving family members (both biological and adoptive) are very important and we will work very hard to facilitate these relationships if that is desired.

Okay... That's about all I can think of. Been through this? Then tell me: what am I missing? Haven't been through this? Then just imagine, what would YOU want to know if you were in her position?

When People Fart on an Airplane it Feels a Little Like Terrorism

This might be the absolute worst flying experience I have had. It has been very turbulent... But not in the traditional sense.

While the Federal Airline Liquid Prohibitory Alliance has cracked down on bringing toiletries on board, they currently have no standing regulations on in-flight gas passing. I have discovered that a self-proclaimed hungover woman can noisily and clumsily board a plane, forewarn row-sharers that she will soon pass out, and then spend a solid two hours ripping toxic toots until other passengers want to go skydiving.

I seriously considered asking the flight attendant for just a hit or two from my oxygen mask, but then it got so bad I was sure that this was sort of bio-terrorism and even the oxygen mask wouldn't stop the slow and stinky death I was about to endure.

Finally the woman actually passed out, as promised. She inexplicably covered her whole entire head with a black scarf and just plopped face down into a cheetah pillow. I am a little worried about her oxygen flow inside that cheetah thing, but more than that... I am thankful for the fart-reprieve and the return of MY oxygen flow.

About Leaving a Family.

I have a secret fear that one day I will snap and totally abandon my family.

(Honey, if you are reading this - and you better be reading this - calm down, it's just a deep and irrational fear, I heart you and am not going anywhere. Hopefully my vow to stick around is good news.)

I know that I would rather die than leave my family. I know that I would rather be tortured Slumdog style than leave my family. I would rather impale my eye with a smoldering pretzel rod... you get the point. So, now that it's clear that I'm not looking to get outta dodge, and also that I have violent and disturbing thoughts on occasion, I am want to be open and honest about this fear.

I have known plenty of people who have done heinous and unexpected things to the people they love. I have faced my share of abuses at the hands (and mouths) of people who have claimed to love me. I have even been on the wicked and guilty end of sin situations as well... and I have hurt those I have truly loved. So, while I know I would never leave my family, I also know that we are all capable of terrible wrongdoing and, sadly, I have proved time and again that I am not the exception to this rule.

Still, I would not leave my family. Well, at least not for long. I am currently on an airplane right now headed to Portland, Oregon to be there with and for a dear friend who is about to welcome her second child, but her first baby girl, into the world. As I was leaving my baby girl, London informed me that she could not be happy or a good girl with me away, or "if you way" as she put it.

On my recent weekend trip to Washington DC for the Move:DC event, my friend Sam said something interesting to me, something along the lines of me being really good at being away. I know that she meant that I was able to leave my family and actually enjoy myself without being constantly worried about the kids or feeling guilty. I took it as a compliment, because it is a skill I am actually intentional about trying to cultivate: being engaged when I am with my kids, so I can be guilt-free and relaxed when I am apart from them. (Especially because these times are few and far between.)

Still, positive as I believe the remark was meant to be... it stirred in me a great reminder of this fear. What if I am good at being away because I am a leaver? What if I am closer to snapping and leaving than I think? What if wanderlust finally gets the better of me? What if I am the worst? What if the threat of a Slumdog beatdown can't even deter me?

This is when I need somebody to slap me really hard, or throw a drink in my face. This is when I need more Spanish soap opera stars in my life, ya know, someone who will get really irate and just shove me down a staircase.

I need a reminder that, yes, while better people have done worse, I am not going to leave my family. I think it is because I am so aware that I am capable of horrific crimes, like impaling someone's eye with a pretzel, that I am intentional in guarding my marriage and family life from those temptations. I think because I know that I could be a leaver, I have to cling to the grace of God. And only by His grace, and all the might and empowerment He stuffs into my soul, am I able to actively and purposefully become a stayer.

Except when my friend has a baby.

Then I go, but just for a bit. And knowing that my little girl can't be good or happy without me there is a great reminder to me about the effects of divorce on kids. I can clearly remember what it was like to feel like I lost the strength and know how to be happy, or a good girl, because somebody left.

I don't care how much we love our spouses or our kids or our lives... sometimes there comes a time when our wanderlust (or a different lust entirely) will call to us and promise something to us that will never be delivered. In those moments, I want to have this healthy fear of losing everything right in front of me...

This fearful knowledge that if I left, my babies would feel like they lost some of their own worth, some ability to muster the strength to be good girls and boys, and that they just couldn't be so happy "ifout me." And, perhaps, someone would also give me a big, fat shove down a winding staircase just in time to knock me back into reality.

I know that horrible things happen, and that every situation is different, and I am not judging any of those scenarios... I am simply saying that Sam was right. I am pretty good at being away, I catch up on reading, I listen to excellent jams, I chat with strangers and drink my coffee slowly and while it is still hot.

I savor each of these little gift-moments. And I do it (for the most part) without feeling guilty. I think that is because I know that I am not really leaving, I know that I am always fighting against any pull or lie that tells me to give up on my life. I know that I am choosing to be a stayer, and even if I am short of soap stars who will do it for me... By the supernatural grace of God, I believe I will gladly put a pretzel to the eye before I let myself be a leaver.

New Year, New Contract

Annalee and I spent about an hour and a half negotiating the terms of this contract. And by that I mean, I explained the terms, she asked for a raise, which I denied, and she suggested that I reconsider after she "tries it my way for a while."

This coming from the girl who handed me am invoice the other day for "babysitting" the younger kids at a family party. In the corner of the invoice it said "Key Bank" and included a charge of 88 cents of interest for not paying her on the day that her services were rendered.

I don't know if I am proud, or worried!

Before she signed the terms of the agreement, she asked if it was okay that instead of tithing 10% and saving 10%, that she continues spending, saving and tithing in equal parts. Which means the poor kid is going to work her fanny off for less than a buck a week, so that she can save a third and tithe a third.

When we first started teaching the kids about money we explained the three ways to use everything God gives us: give some, save some, spend some. We knew they couldn't comprehend percentages, so we just have them three pennies, one for each jar. The concept stuck and Annalee thinks that spending 80% "just doesn't make any sense."

Upon further thought... I may consider that raise sooner than later. Of course, after she "tries it my way" for a bit.

Why I'm Done Pretending to Like Christmas

It took me many years (and some challenging words from my husband) to realize that I did not, in fact, enjoy Christmas.  I know this is American blasphemy... trust me, I was as shocked as anyone by this discovery.  I love giving gifts, and I like to put Christmas lights on the tree with absolutely perfect distribution.  I like singing Christmas songs at the top of my lungs, making up all the words as I go. (*2012 discovery: the word "soiled' is not actually in any of the Christmas songs.)

As much as I have enjoyed these traditions, Tom brought it to my attention a couple Christmases ago, that I don't actually enjoy Christmas.  He said it so matter-of-factly that I was insulted.  He just said it as plainly as if it were a fact known and accepted by all, "Well, that's because you don't like Christmas."

After my initial shock and disbelief wore off, I started thinking about how I really feel during the holiday season.  In a word: sad.

I thought I was enjoying Christmas, because to a degree, I was.  I enjoyed watching my kids have the kind of Christmases I wished I could have had when I was growing up.  I love that my kids wake up with both of their parents in their home, and with all of their siblings, and with a sense that they are safe and loved and protected.

When you have experienced loss, tragedy, divorce, or trauma... the holidays are often a painful reminder of what, and often who, is missing.  The divorce of my parents and the death of my brother happened within the same year, and those experiences really boiled down all the decorations, and gifts, and traditions, leaving only this sad reminder behind: I wanted my dad, and I wanted my brother.

I still do.

I don't know how to stop missing the people you lose.

Since Tom brought to my attention the fact that I don't like Christmas, I have worked really hard to pretend to like Christmas.  It's a strange thing, not knowing that you hate something, then realizing it, then pretending to like it again.  It seems easier to have just continued falsely believing I liked it.  But, I have arrived at a place where I am done pretending to like Christmas.

I spent the month of October challenging myself to process and heal from the death of my brother in a productive way, by focusing on others and showing acts of kindness.  I think that openly grieving for Adam allowed me to release some of what was holding me back from enjoying not only Christmas, but a lot of good things in my life.

I have felt God growing me and refining me... and I am, once again, experiencing that feeling where the decorations and gifts and traditions are being boiled down.  Only this time, what remains is not just tragedy, loss, pain and grief.  Now, when everything else gets boiled down, what I can finally see is a baby in a manger who changed everything.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, we sent the kids upstairs to play and would not let them come down because the local authorities were telling people in our area to stay away from windows and doors because a crazed gunman had not yet been apprehended.  The man had set a car on fire to lure first responders to the scene where he then opened fire on the unsuspecting and heroic volunteer fire fighters.  He killed two of these brave young men, and it is believed that he also killed his sister, whose remains have not yet been officially identified from the fire.  Three other first responders were shot or inured, 7 homes were completely destroyed and 2 more homes declared unlivable.

These horrible things happened about a 30 second drive from my home, a place where my family takes walks and on the route where I go running.  This shooting just hit too close to home, literally too close to my home, but also too close to my heart.  I hated hearing the worry in my mom's voice and knowing that, for her, shootings are real and they can claim your child's life in an instant.

I used to think there was some sort of pain quota that we all have, and once this world has gotten its pound of flesh, it will leave you alone for the most part.  This theory was based on nothing, and it makes zero sense.  The more I live, the more people I know and love, and the more pain I see and experience.  The truth is that there really is no quota for tragic things that one may endure in this life.  There is no guarantee that you will not lose a child or a marriage.  Or both in the same year.

There is no quota.  We can experience unimaginable pain, and we can do it time and again in unimaginable doses.  That is why we need that baby in the manger.  That is the only thing I can possibly find hope in, because this world offers no promise of hope and no limit to our loss.  Without that first Christmas there is no Easter, and without Easter... there's really no promise.

So, I think I am all done pretending to like Christmas.  I am going to actually like it, because apart from Christmas, and Easter, and the promise of new and lasting life after this world... we ain't got nothing but a wreath and some pain.  So, I will choose to celebrate Christmas next year, with unabashed joy and reckless abandon.  And I will try to live in that same mindset day in and day out for 2013, hoping that Christ's message of hope will transform not only the holidays, but the regular days too.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from The Capuano Family.  May your year be filled with the reality that the baby God in the manger changes every day, not just one.

The Lara of Christmas Past

The other day I got a letter in the mail from my former self.

Bear with me, this actually did happen.  Tom handed me a letter and said "did you mail yourself a letter??"  I thought "No!  How ridiculous!"  I picked up the letter and then thought "Oooh, I kinda like this handwriting."  And a moment later "Oh, yeah, I definitely wrote this to myself."

A long time ago, my friend, Erica, and I had a small Bible study kind of  group that we led.  We would take turns leading, and it went a little something like this:

Lara's turn:  Talk about our deepest issues, maybe cry it out, and applaud any time somebody says something remotely intelligent.  Do lots of icebreaker questions aka cheaps and deeps... some questions are easy (cheaps) and some heavy (deeps.)

Erica's turn: write poetry by candelight, express yourself through painting pottery and inserting your name into scriptures and taping it onto your bathroom mirror.

It was a good blend of my useless jokes and her deep, symbolic thinking.  We called it "Circle" and we reunite about twice a year and do fun things like play "Project FUNway" where you have to transform a hideous bridesmaid dress into something fabulous.

So, we are coming up on our annual Christmastime reunion and I open the letter that Erica made encouraged me to write to myself as one of our exercises.  I wrote it begrudgingly at the time, but when I opened it and read it as if it was from someone other than me... I was kinda blown away at how nicely I could speak to myself.  Maybe it was because I was writing it at the beach by candelight (this is true) and because Erica had a pocketknife at my back forcing me to write it. (this part is less true.)

Anyways, the letter arrived right when I needed somebody to tell me some very specific things.  I was surprised to discover that it was younger ME that came through when I needed her!  I learned how much more productive I could be if I encouraged myself instead of being so verbally abusive.  I would absolutely, never in a million years talk to another human being on this earth the way that I talk to myself.  So, it was a much needed mercy to receive a gentle and encouraging rebuke from the one person that usually gives me a verbal backhand.

I am sharing the letter because it explains why I am a Christ follower.  I have a deep fear of being that pushy Christian everyone vomits about, so please know that I share this because I have a lot of readers who do not  understand my faith, let alone share it.  Perhaps this will help some understand what I believe and why.  If nothing else, it should explain why you should mail stuff to yourself.

Dear Lara,
   Jesus died on the cross for you.  He did this not for your captivity- to shame, guilt, fear - but for your freedom.  He is making something beautiful out of you.  Let yourself experience the freedom He died for.  Be as free and as beautiful as He has created you to be.
   I know that you feel like a failure; like no matter how hard you try, you will always slip back.  But, you really are pure in His sight, being made new.  You are a holy vessel.  You are set apart for His use, never to be used for unholy causes.  Do not let Satan convince you that you are unholy - he is your greatest enemy in this life.  Make him sorry he ever messed with you.
   Some day your children will rise up and call you blessed.  Just stay present.  Keep working hard.  Get up early to pray.  Accept them always.  See them.  Let them see you.  They will forgive your mistakes - if you can really be present - they can forgive anything.  Every moment with them is a gift. You will never regret plugging in.  Be truly grateful for everything. It's all from God.
   You are not your past, or your parents, or your problems.  YOU. ARE. HIS. BELOVED.
                                       I love you Lara, 
                                                          Lara

Why I'm an "Insensitive Prick" & Other FAQ's

Here, I address the top criticisms of my blog, and just my person in general.  Hopefully this will clear up how close I am operating to my maximum potential.  Enjoy the hideous freeze shot of me.  I was going to shower before I did this video... but then I remembered "Ha!  I don't shower on weekdays!"  Plus, I wanted to give the critics some fresh ammo.  Enjoy!

Why I Hope My Kids Are Never Popular

Lately, one of my daughters has been feeling a little left out at school.  I struggle with a zillion concerns and challenges as a parent of four kids.  I have endless goals and desires for all my kids, but having school-age girls is really bringing some specific challenges to light, especially as it relates to little girls.  Here they are in alphabetical order just randomly thrown on the list:

• Preserving their innocence, without sheltering them to the point that they say things like "bowel movement" when they are in college.  
• Allowing them to be completely their unique, individual selves... without being socially unaware.
• Fostering an environment where they feel like they can tell me the truth about everything.
• Fostering an environment where they also feel terrified of breaking the rules.
• Fostering an environment that nurtures their independent thinking, creativity and free-spiritedness.
• Establishing a balance between being free-spirited, and always losing your lunchbox.
• Instilling a primary desire to please the Lord in everything to do.
• Instilling a secondary desire to use dry humor effectively.
• Training them to be godly girls.
• Instilling humility and grace, so they serve and honor others ahead of themselves.
• Instilling enough self-respect that boys are afraid to ask them on dates.
• Teaching them that their inner-beauty is what matters most.
• Also teaching them how/when to create the perfect "smokey eye."
• Creating a home that becomes the hang out for their friends.
• Fostering friendships with the kind of kids that won't get drunk and steal my family heirlooms.
• Teaching them to dress in a way that will not get them the wrong kind of attention, nor cause others to question if they time-traveled from pioneer times.  
• Empowering them to stand up for themselves, and others, when necessary.
• Empowering them to lead when they need to, and follow when they need to.  (And to discern when to do which.)
• Empowering them to be the first one out on the dance floor at a lame wedding.  (They need to learn that I won't always be there to get the party started for them.  Someday, down the road, probably after a double hip-replacement, I won't be there... and YMCA will be playing, and they are going to have to grow up, and dance like total fools without me.)

This, friends, is just the tip of the iceburg.  I want my kids to live counter-culturally... but, also be able to live amongst the people so that they get to enjoy full and fruitful relationships.  I want to help create the counter-intuition required to care not about being happy, but about being holy.  I want so many paradoxical things for my kids, I am afraid they will develop multiple personality disorder.  The bottom line is that I want what God wants for them, and it takes some really delicate balances, and also some pretty major extremes to live Biblically.

Perhaps I am failing desperately, and that is why the girls sometimes feel a little like they are "odd man out."  Or, perhaps, they are odd afterall... and that notion is almost comforting because I ran with "the popular crowd" for some time when I was in school and here are a few of the things I got from that experience:

• People can hate you for no apparent reason.
• People will do almost anything to be accepted by others.
• People are threatened by that which they do not understand.
• So many more people smoke pot than you might expect. (And I am not only talking about the high school kids, but their parents. And teachers. True. Story.)
• Appearance is everything... not even physical appearance, but appearing like you have confidence, or that you don't care what others think, or that you have money, etc.
• Believing in "God" is fine, good even.  
• Following Christ is laughable.  Viewed as "extreme."
• Nobody has as much money as they pretend to have.
• Teenage girls are clinically insane.
• Teenage boys notice this, and disregard it.  They really are as horny willing to overlook a insanity as legend holds.  Maybe more.
• Dating in high school is not always a total joke, but, usually.
• Kids use swear words more than they use regular words.
• Nobody is saying "bowel movement."
• When a teenager says to someone  "your parents are so cool!"  It really means "I don't realize this now, but later in my adult life, I will look back and judge your cool parents for being so stupidly insecure and permissive."
• The kids that are perpetually in some spotlight of popularity are subjected to more scrutiny than is bearable for such a poorly developed brain.
• Academic, athletic and social pressures matter more to most parents than spiritual and moral development.
• A lot of the most popular kids are really, really sad.
• The kids that have the most stuff, are often the saddest.
• A lot of the popular kids are just peaking really early, and this is as cool as they will ever be.  

So, there you have it.  My last three years of high school were a pretty miserable experience.  I felt hated by most of the people I was friends with for the many years before that.  I felt like I couldn't break into the other friend groups, because I was viewed as a "popular girl" and I don't think anyone would have believed that I really didn't have more than one or two good friends.  I was "friends" with everyone, but when the weekends came... it was really just me and my best friend, Chrisann, and so much singing into hairbrushes in my bedroom.

As a mom, I want my kids to just fly under the radar of popularity so that they can be themselves without being subjected to the scrutiny of being psuedo-celebs in their schools.  I want them to sing into their hairbrushes with one or two great friends, and not feel like they failed because they lost the huge group of friends that used to come over.  I want them to be friends with everyone, but have only a few really true friends... and I want them to know that this is a success, not a failure on their part, or because they have been rejected.  And I want them to genuinely follow Christ, even if it gets them laughed at.... because I know that the only lasting joy comes from knowing that I am who God says I am, and that I am pleasing the God that created me for His glory.  I really believe that if my kids can get ahold of this truth, they will be awesome for life.

Not just in high school.

Why I Quit Being Thankful

Okay, okay... I didn't altogether quit being thankful, I just quit recording my thankfulness for a few reasons. Most of them are weak and pathetic excuses, "I have been so busy!" or "My kidney hurts so much!" But, I also have a couple reasons that are actually legitimate.  My best reason is that I have really struggled during this "season of gratitude" with a lot of guilt and (admittedly) irritation.  Most of you can identify with the feeling of being inundated with other people's really great news on Facebook.  Trust me, I could't be more thrilled that your vegan turkey tasted just like actual turkey, oh wait... yes I could be, I could be way more thrilled.

You get the point though, right?  We all read other people's comments about themselves and their own lives and we think "WHO CARES!"  And then I sit down to write my blog, and I think "Who cares!?"  It doesn't make me feel bad, honestly it doesn't.  I barely care what I am making for dinner, I know that you people don't!  So, I felt a little sick about writing all the things that I am thankful for, when they are really just silly little things that only I could care about.  Additionally, I have grappled with the concept of  the "humblebrag" which is just a way of bragging under the guise of gratitude.  "So thankful for my precious son who can already write in complete sentences at age 2!" which really just means "So thankful my baby isn't as dumb as your baby!  Clearly I am a sensational parent!  Happy Thanksgiving, my kids are so smart."  Or maybe it doesn't mean that.  I don't even know what it means... but, I know that it sometimes makes people feel bad about having a child that cannot speak, let alone write, or not having a child at all.  So, I struggle to report in on the things in my life that I am genuinely thankful for, because I know that nobody really cares about the superficial details of my life, and sadly, I am just shallow enough to be really thankful for some very self-serving conveniences.  Plus, my kidney actually has been acting up.

But, alas... I have promised to share the things I am thankful for, and I shall do so below.  Please know that when I brag, I will do so in an outright and disgusting manner, I have zero interest in the humbebrag.  When I am a jerk, you'll know it.  So, please trust that anything I write is not intended to be braggy or competitive, unless I am blatantly trash talking.  Then, well... I am just a jerk sometimes, and it is usually meant for comedic value.  Or because my vegan tofurky was actually golden browner than yours.
Soo...

Day 17: Road trips.  I love road trips.  Road tripping has been a huge shaping factor in my life.  They have given me (and my kids) a sense of adventure and have been the #1 healthiest outlet for my wanderlust.
Day 18: Invisible Children.  This organization has done some amazing things and I was so blessed to be a part of their MOVE:DC event.  If you don't know about KONY 2012, you should google it before it is 2013.
Day 19: Great nail polish.  (See, I told you I am shallow!)  I don't care what ANYONE says, unless I hear differently from Jesus Christ himself, I will continue to believe that God created nail polish for me personally to enjoy.  I like to think that there is a special little corner of heaven especially for mani/pedis... chip-free, y'all.
Day 20:  Lisps.  If I could go back in time and record one thing, it would be Marlie at age 3 saying "cookieth, caketh, candieth."
Day 21:  Bins.  Without bins, I would look like I lived inside an episode of Hoarders.  I have 1,060 bins in my basement that hold clothing for boys, girls, neutral, newborns, toddlers, etc.  Sorting out sizes and seasons is a miserable and time-consuming job... only made tolerable because of my deep adoration for a solid bin.
Day 22:  Consignment/thrift shops.  Anything that I cannot buy with a Marshall's gift card comes from a thrift store.  I love items that richer people have rejected.
Day 23:  Squinting.  I love to squint at things because you see things in a completely different way.  I know that this sounds stupid, but trust me... I do this all the time and as stupid as it sounds, it LOOKS even stupider.  Seriously though, you squint at your Christmas tree one time, and you will not be able to stop.  It is really the only way to look at Christmas lights.  (See?  I know you just squinted, and then sang "A Whole New World" from the Aladdin soundtrack.)
Day 24:  Ethnic food.  Cooking with only American spices would be like being in taste prison.
Day 25:  Songs that I know all the words to.  As it turns out, there are only, like, five songs that I know by heart.  I loooove knowing the words to songs, and I will make words up just so I can sing along.  
Day 26:  My kids' schools.  I am one of those horrible Christians that actually sent my kids to public school.  Honestly, I haven't regretted it.  They have had awesome teachers, made great friends, and been exposed to some really important life experiences.  Sure, there are some draw backs... but, so far, we have had a wonderful schooling experience with our kids.  After parent/teacher conferences today, I am feeling particularly thankful for how caring and nurturing their teachers are.
Day 27: Makeovers.  I am in the business of making gals look fabulous, and I really love it.  I love making accessories, and I love showing people how to "pull it off."  I love making people feel fabulous, and I love when I get to know someone well enough to say "burn those shoes immediately."  If somebody approached me at any given moment and offered me a million dollars to use for making over ten people... I already know the ladies I would die to get my hands on, because I have fantasized about overseeing their makeovers for years.  I am thankful for fresh starts, changes and the freedom to try something new.
Day 28:  Conditioner.
Day 29: My marriage.  Today, I have been married for nine years.  I am thankful that we are still married, and that we still laugh together every day.

This is all a little anti-climactic I am certain.  But there you have it, some things that I genuinely appreciate.  As for my challenge to you... the month is coming to a close, so I would encourage you to stop the humblebrag, and to share only things that you are truly thankful for.  Don't praise the Lord on facebook before you take the time to thank Him privately.  And since God isn't on facebook anyways, I challenge you to stop posting your prayers there altogether.  I challenge you to view life less competitively and don't be afraid to be honest about who you are, what you struggle with, and what you really love.

Even if it just just a lisp and some nail polish.

Work, Wounds, Christ and Candy.

Day 14, I am thankful for my little business.  I am behind on my blog posts because I have been busy making items for a new account with a gift shop outside Boston, as well as a  holiday sale at MOPS, and then restocking some inventory and my first and favorite shop, Thread.  The short story behind starting Piccadilly Rose is that I pretended to have a business, and business was great, so I decided to have a real business.  Between these accounts at shops/salons, craft fairs, and a lot of loyal customers and custom orders... real business is even better than fake business!  I really enjoy having a way to contribute financially, that rarely takes away time from my family.  The girls enjoy trying out all my new accessories... and they love coming to see my table at art fairs.

Day 15, I am thankful for when I am challenged by other people to be better than I am.  I am thankful for when someone calls me out for being selfish (I can be shamefully self-preserving, self-protective, self-indulgent, self-hating, self-younameit).  I am also a punisher.  By nature or nurture, I am not certain... but the bottom line is that when I get hurt, I punish.  I withdraw and have a hard time letting go of the wound, and I feel sorry for myself.  Perhaps it is out of fear of rejection, but my first instinct when I get hurt is to say, "Well, there goes that friendship."  I am kind of a relational quitter, more by instinct and feeling, than by action.  It embarrasses me to admit that because it takes one prideful person to hold a grudge.  I am thankful for the people who call me out when I am doing this, and who don't write me off even when I deserve it.  Feeling particularly thankful that "wounds from a friend can be trusted." (Proverbs 27:6)

Day 16, in a nutshell I am thankful for Jesus and candy.  It's an odd combination I know... but, here you will get an in-depth picture of my long history with both the lover of my soul, and my heart's secondary desire... treats.  

Golden Girls.

I am seriously behind on my thankfuls because of the long weekend.  So, here you will get Day 10, 11, 12 and 13 all in one.

Over the past couple of years, I have found myself exceedingly grateful for my friendships.  Recent years have come with plenty of ups and downs and my friends have been there to support me, especially during some of  the worst times.  So, all of today's post is about my different types of friends.

Day 10:  Friends of embarrassments past. These are my friends who I do not really keep in touch with in any significant way, but they are woman that I am so thankful for because they were a huge part of my life at one point or another.  A lot of these people loved me during some very unlovable seasons of my life, and they probably hate me for it now... but, I still consider them friends because they shaped me, tolerated me, refined me, or yelled at me when I needed it.  These are childhood friends, or college roommates that had to know me during some rough stuff, and while I was the ugliest, most broken version of myself.  These are people who I think about all the time (usually with total shame and embarrassment) but also with deep gratitude.

Day 11:  Friends from a distance.  These are friends who live anywhere but Rochester, NY.  Some of them are in Philly, some in Michigan, and others in Arizona, Kansas City, Boston, and Portland.  How much we keep in touch is usually determined by some wave of influence, like an impending visit, or need for advice, or some announcement about a major life change... or spontaneity and/or desperation to talk with someone who loves you, understands you, and has for a long time.  If I say that I am behind on laundry, most people think "yeah, sure... that makes sense, you have a lot of kids."  Only my long-distance friend, Heather, knows and understands what laundry failure really means for me.  Even though these women are far away, most of them know me better than the friends I see on a regular basis.  Some things, you can only learn through laundry freshman year.

Day 12:  Friends that are family.  I am lucky to say that some of my best friends are family first.  My sisters are also my best friends... all my sisters (biological, step, in-law) are some my closest and dearest friends.  There is something comforting about being loved by people who really don't have any other choice.

Day 13:  Friends who do life with me. These are women who I discuss books with, who I study the Bible with, who I cry with, and cry for.  These are women who have heard me sing (which I do loudly and constantly, despite having once been told by a college roommate that "even Jesus does not like my voice.")  Some have seen a baby come out of me, some have seen me throw up, some have seen my house (and my person) in a deplorable and unsanitary state, and they have all seen me cry.  (And dance.  If you haven't seen me dance, we really can't be that close.) They have forgiven me for a world of shortcomings, and still do life with me, pretending that people like me are normal.

It is a beautiful thing to have friends that have seen me at my worst and at my best.  They are one of the purest and most tangible ways that I can trust and believe that God exists.  He is the God that sees, and He has given me a slew of crazy friends throughout the years... all who have seen me, for better or worse, and have loved me in spite of an absurd amount of flaws, with a grace that only a merciful and very forgiving God could give.

*My challenge is for you to call one friend from each category and thank them for seeing you at your worst, and loving you anyways.