A Joyful but Hurting Heart

And we will dance on the streets that are golden

The glorious bride and the great Son of Man

From every tongue and tribe and nation

We'll join in the song of the Lamb

I started writing this the day before I left for Africa, but I wasn't quite ready to finish it so I assumed I'd finish when I got home. Then Africa happened, and for some reason the timing of when to post this never felt right, so I kept waiting. I woke up last night in tears from an awful dream in which I took my kids to see Aunt Joy. After I packed them all up in the car I went to hug her goodbye and she died in my arms. I dream so vividly, and it can be very beautiful but also very painful. It suddenly felt like the right time to finish this.

It is with joy that I can say that my Great Aunt Joy is dancing on the streets of heaven today with all of her brothers and sisters, with her mom and dad, with my dad and with so many others who have gone before her. It is with joy that I can say that she has met her creator and can be in His presence today. It is with joy that I can say she is no longer in pain in this earth, but she is with He who overcame this world.

It truly is with joy that I can say all of these things. That doesn't change the fact that I am hurting from the inside out as I write this. This morning I called to tell her I loved her before leaving the country, as I suspected it'd be the last time I'd be able to, but I was late.  she had already passed. I know that "one more time" is never enough, and it wouldn't make it hurt any less. I know that she knew I loved her, and I know that one more call wouldn't have sealed that love in her heart. I still wanted it though.

Moving to California when we did was such an orchestration for my relationship with Joy. Joy was special to me as a kid, though I didn't see her much, and she and I talked on a few occasions about how she wished I could come see her in San Mateo, California. It sounded so glamorous to me! I never thought I'd actually make it out there, but when we found out where we'd be moving I was so excited to call and tell her. We drove up to see her on our first weekend in California and Austin, William and I all instantly fell in love with our trips up to visit. The loving connection between young children and elderly people is so beautiful to see, and William loved his Aunt Joy. He always asked if we could take flowers to her, and seeing the smile on her face brought so much happiness to his.

Being away from our immediate family for almost a decade, having Joy nearby was so special to us. Austin and I talked often about how amazing it was that we were able to take the time to visit her often and that what looked like a sacrifice on our part to do something nice for her was actually just a blessing to us. Joy was a remarkable woman who lived such a rich life. Over the last 3 years I sat with her for hours listening to her stories of her past. Stories of my family, stories of our country, stories of her good times and some of her bad. Her memory was impeccable and the greatest gift she could give to me was the knowledge she had on our family history. 

I know we went to California for so many reasons. It'd be easy to say it's just where the army sent us, but that's not it at all. God had a lot of work to do and a lot of resources set up for that work right there waiting for us. His timing, as always, was perfect as we got to have the best of Joy's last 3.5 years. I hated leaving when I did, knowing her end was near and knowing if I had 6 more months I'd probably be able to comfort her a little more. But God had a reason for taking us away when he did too, and in that He spared me the pain of watching someone go from where she was to the end in such a short time.

The day after I got back from Africa William asked me, 'when can we go back to California and visit Aunt Joy?' My heart was full of happiness and pride in the fact that she was so tremendous to make such an impression on him, but broke into pieces as I watched his face crinkle up with tears when I told him she had gone to be with Jesus.

The entire time we lived there she repeatedly told me, 'I'm not ready yet, it's just not my time'. One month before she died we were on the phone and she told me she was ready. She had finally completed what she felt she was brought here to do, and she was ready to go be with her Heavenly Father. How beautiful a gift is that?

Forgive Like a Child

William may have taught me a lesson in forgiveness today, and I've got some pride to swallow later today as we owe him a pretty big apology.

Last month Austin and I were at target alone. Weird, that we'd ever have that opportunity, and weirder that when given the opportunity all we wanted to do was shop for surprises for the kids. Yep, we're those parents. We saw the cutest little batman sweat pants and sweatshirt, which we knew William would love. He was so excited Monday morning to wear his new gear to school.

His teacher emailed me and asked that I not send the cape back with the jacket because all of the boys wanted to play with it and it was distracting, so the next day William wore the jacket with no cape.

Then we never saw the jacket again.

We both reminded him every day that he needed to look, and I had gotten a note that the lost & found would be going to a donation center after the semester ended. I knew if he didn't find it in those 2 weeks it'd be gone, so I kept harping on him. His answer never changed, "I put it in my cubby but it's just gone". I've seen him "look" for objects before and claim they're missing, only to go in the room and see them right in front of my face. So, being told it was "just gone" just irritated me more and more. After the semester ended we told him it was probably just gone and we dropped it.

Well, today I was in his classroom and the kids were getting ready to go to PE so they were told to go get their jackets. I saw a little boy, who we will call J, get 2 jackets from his backpack.

I blurted out, "William! Is that your batman jacket?"

J: NO! This is MINE!

Ms McC: Wait wait, J. Is this REALLY yours?"

*J drops jacket and walks off.

Ms McC, whispering: We've had a problem with him taking things. I remember the first day William wore this, it went missing before recess. I was searching in all of the backpacks and then the jacket just appeared on the floor in the middle of the room and no one would claim responsibility. But we've had quite a problem with things from the cubby area going missing.

William reminded Ms McC that they used to keep J's cubby area on the opposite side of the room so that nothing went missing, and kindly said "maybe we can try that again?" I gave him a hug and said I was sorry about his jacket. He said, "Why? I got it back!" and skipped off.

To have forgiveness like that! He doesn't even care that the boy stole his jacket, he's just excited to have it back and is carrying on with his day. Meanwhile, I'm sitting at home, hours later, stewing over how frustrating it is that someone would just go into the cubby area and steal another person's jacket. A kindergarten student! Also, to think that upon bringing this jacket home his parents wouldn't reprimand him and make him return it. I can't imagine.

I feel like I owe William a big apology for the way I've reacted to this missing jacket, but I think the better plan is to silently let him teach me a little bit about forgiveness and moving on.

A breath of fresh air

When Austin came home from Iraq in 2005 I helped him unload his household goods into the house he and his buddy would be renting. When he left for Iraq we were not dating, but when he came home a year later I just knew we'd be getting married. A lot changed that year. We unloaded a big, heavy dresser - contents still in drawers - and lugged in into his room. He decided to go through the drawers, and in the top 'junk' drawer I found an envelope full of letters. The handwriting looked familiar, and the return address was 

21110 Carmel Valley Drive Katy, TX 

That, my friends, is where I grew up, and the stack of letters tucked into the envelope were letters I had mailed to him when we were 'dating' in junior high/high school. He had kept 7 year old letters from me in his junk drawer. He kept them and stored them away in 2004 not knowing I would be with him when he unloaded it upon return. I was blown away. In those 7 years he must have had a dozen girlfriends, and back in our day (after hiking up hill in the snow) we hand wrote letters to boyfriends/girlfriends. We made signs and pictures. I know he must have had similar letters from other girls, but none were safely kept for an unknown future. Gasp, sigh. 

I love the memory of finding those letters in that dresser, but I didn't necessarily love the dresser. It was a solid piece of furniture, much higher quality than any dresser I had ever owned, but it was out of date, out of style...and the hardware hurt my eyes. The dresser stuck with us though, and it made its way from Killeen to Aurora to Seaside. Once we found out we were moving and having another baby I asked Austin if we could please refashion the dresser for the baby and either upgrade or in any other way remove it from our room. There was slight hesitation - he'd had it his whole life! It's a nice dresser! Where would he put all his stuff??? (Because, you see, austin had 8 of the 9 drawers...the only drawer that was mine was the former junk drawer turned jewelry drawer) I promised him I'd find a place for all of his things if he'd please let me re do the dresser for the baby. He agreed, although I don't really think I gave him a choice. I just started telling people that's what was happening! What a patient man he is. After all, I was pregnant with his third child - what else was he to do?

We got to Killeen and devised a plan for Loretta's room. The final piece would be the dresser makeover. My thoughts: her room would be shabby chic rustic chic some sort of soft feminine chic without too much pink. Got it? Pictured in your head?

I had no idea how to execute.

We made a stripe pattern on one wall of her room which came out all wrong in my head. I wanted the purple to be the primary color, but the purple turned out too bold for my vision and now my plan of a purple dresser was just not going to work. I had artwork/wall decor that I couldn't seem to place, colors I didn't think were blending - what in the world was I thinking, trying to be a girl mom?? I was lost.

After a frantic and wordy message (wordy? Me?) to one of my top 5 favorite friends of my mom, who I'll claim as my friend too, I was back on track. 'Pull the mint from the wall to the drawers and paint the dresser white' she said. Mint? White? But I said purple? Did you read what I wrote? Ok. You're the expert! I'll go with it.

And expert she is. The dresser is so beautiful and I've gotten gushing reviews from my husband about how awesome of a mom I am to have seen the beauty in his old dresser for our baby girl. (Thanks misskim ;) ) I'm sure someone out there doesn't agree, but I think it's just about the most beautiful dresser I've ever seen. The best part: it completes the room and brings the look I was hoping for. I am ecstatic.

It's dumb to say that designing a room has given me confidence I needed in being a girl mom, but it has. Sure, I can do sports and race cars and avengers and Legos. But this room - I can do this too!

My angel Loretta - oh, how I love you.

Here is the before and after of the dresser...

And here is her FINALLY completed room, the best room in the house:

Her little reading corner could use some decorating help, but I needed the blanket which inspired the color theme in here somehow - and the bookshelf just proves we live here, we read here, we love here.

On a Quest for Me

There is so much out there about the struggle of transforming from an old you to a new you. Losing weight. Graduating from high school. Graduating from college. Becoming a mom. Transformations are hard! And while we (usually???) want what we are morphing into, that doesn't mean it comes without growing pains and some loss.

I recently talked with a friend about the choice of how many children to have and she talked about sticking with her one. Her one amazingly precious daughter! I shared with her that I've often thought I'd be a better mom had I stopped at one. Don't read that wrong: I DO NOT WISH I had stopped at one, but I do think I would do a better mom-job if I had one kid rather than three. 

When I had one kid his development was never overlooked. When I had one kid I knew what he ate for dinner last Tuesday and made sure we didn't have a repeat week of meals. When I had one kid he was read to every day. (Well, truth be told, he still is. It's the other 2 who may be suffering)

When I had one kid he had a mom who knew who she was. And while that may sound selfish, you're better at everything you do when you know who you are. I am a better mom when I know who I am.

The problem is, when I added baby # 2 (and then very quickly #3) I scrambled. I suddenly had 6 ears to clean out at bath time. I had 3 developmental levels to track. I had 3 precious balls of love to tuck in at night. Often, one falls asleep while the other 2 are being tended to. Or one has shoes with broken Velcro because he tore them just as we exited the shoe store to replace shoes for the other. Or one is still drinking the same amount of formula per bottle as she was 4 months ago because I don't have the energy or time or focus to stretch her appetite.

And I only have 3! I would say 'how do moms of 4, 5, 6 do it...' But I know how

- some days they just survive. You do what you can. You make it work.

Unfortunately, in all of that 'make it work' mentality you sometimes forget that your ears need cleaning. Your brain needs stimulating. Your interests need cultivating. And in that fleeting moment when you remember, you remind yourself you're too tired to think about it. But, I don't want to be lost in this season. I may not be the same person I was with no kids or with one, but I want to find who I am in all of this.

I want to blog. I want to exercise. I want to be a thoughtful friend. I want to be a lot of the things I used to be.

And so, this year I plan to find those things. I may not (read: will not) have a craft room that I get to play in every day. I may not have the amazing gym membership I did 5 years ago, or get the amazing workouts 6 days a week I was fortunate to have. I may not be able to be everything I wish I could be, but at least I can find where this new me fits amidst the shuffle and work. I'm on a quest to find me, and in the meantime I hope  to bring this little blog along for the ride! Should be fun!