-
Choices
A day of pain from missing my mom.
A day of immeasurable joy.
A day I hope I will always remember.
A day I wish I could forget.
A beautiful, loving, wonderful day – the best Mother’s Day ever.
A horrible, rotten, “wish I had never gotten out of bed” day.
That is what my Mother’s Day was.
I had both ends of the spectrum.
I was surrounded by my children and beautiful words were written especially by my husband.
“This is Dan, adding a post on Mother’s Day. I’m always amazed by the strength of mothers. In my work, I see so many moms that are so committed and devoted to their fragile children. The love warms your heart and gives you hope for the future.
And then I look at Lisa, and I see that girl that I have loved since I was 15. I remember all the pain we have gone through with our children, the crushing grip of death, broken dreams and the scars of abuse. I see the sacrifices that she so willingly makes – day after day, night after night. Putting her family first – always teaching, healing, loving, and caring. Never too tired, always ready to give – never because she “has to” but always because she “wants to”. She has been pushed to her limit and beyond during the past few years. Discovering the depth of the trauma that some of our kids experienced in China, grieving the loss of her own mom. These things don’t get better. But she just keeps “showing up” and giving all of our sweet children exactly what they need – a mom who loves them unconditionally and completely.
Our kids are seriously blessed to have Lisa as their mom and I am seriously blessed to be her husband. Thank you to all the moms out there that keep “showing up” and giving your kids that most precious gift – a mother’s love.”
Isn’t that what life is though? Tough and beautiful all at the same time? I wanted to wake up to a clean house. I wanted to not have to do anything. I wanted breakfast in bed after 8 straight beautiful hours of sleep. My expectations were not met. My house wasn’t magically clean when I woke up. I didn’t get 8 hours of straight sleep. (Although, Lainey was gracious enough to give me 5 straight.) I didn’t get breakfast in bed, but instead was up hours before anyone else getting ready for “my” day.
Choice – Be happy about 5 hours or be bitter about not getting to sleep in.
I will admit the foot stomping two year old in me was there for a moment. My day wasn’t going according to my plans and I was as cranky, but then I took a moment, opened my eyes, and looked around. I saw my beautiful, hand-drawn pictures from all my kiddos. I saw flowers in vases, some that were purchased and some that were hand picked. I was given some beautiful notes written in my Mother’s Day book. (Last year the Cassie started a journal where ever child writes something on a page for Mother’s Day. It’s a beautiful keepsake.) Elyse reminded me again how happy she was to just be able to say the words “Happy Mother’s Day” to her very own mama.
As the day went on, Cassie made a wonderful birthday lunch for Max with all his favorites. We played outdoors where the kids ran for hours in grass that was way too long because it needed to be cut, but the lawn mower had been broken. Reece had the great idea to cut a winding path in the grass and the kids ran for hours on this path. Something that had been driving me crazy all week, extra long grass, ended up being the most fun ever for the littles. The ran and ran and ran around the path. They were so joyful.
Choice – to fret about unmown grass and all the other things left undone or to fully enjoy the moment in the sunshine with my blessings.
The night took a turn for the worse when Jasmine started acting out again. Every once in a while she has a really hard time. Every once in a while she turns into a child that you would never recognize. The things she says are hurtful and mean. She lashes out and none of it makes much sense. Children who have spent most of their lives in an institution act out for the strangest reasons and sometimes it is hard to figure it out right away. Why is she lashing out? Is it because she is remembering her grandma or grieving her lost mother? Why won’t she just tell me why she is hurting? When they won’t open up it makes life hard. You want to scream. You want to return the favor with some harsh words of your own, but you can’t.
You remind her daily that she has a choice to be happy or sad. No one is responsible for her happiness. She has a choice to find her purpose and live life fully or watch it pass her by. She has the choice to trust God and His plan. She has the choice to make the world a better place or to make those around her miserable. She has the choice to discuss what is going on. She has the choice to love her family and participate or sit on the sidelines. She has the choice to trust us or live in fear.
She has a choice and so do I.
Choice – to let the few hours of discontent ruin my day or to keep the right perspective and remember all the blessings I have had throughout the day.
Choices! We all make them every day some intentionally and some by default. Not choosing is in itself a choice. I have the choice to respond in anger and discipline or I can teach. Jasmine has not been taught how to process the pain. Jasmine has not been taught what to do with her anger. She is much like a toddler – acting out, throwing words around, stomping her feet. Would I expect a toddler to reason with me and work through her problems. NO!!! I remind myself that daily with Jasmine.
Choice – to show grace and loving correction and teachings or angry words and discipline.
Love is a choice. God tells us that in His word. He wants us to be content. He wants us to choose joy. He wants us to love our neighbor and pray for those who persecute us. None of these things are easy but we always have that choice. We can choose to see our lives any way we wish. We can dwell on every negative thing that ever happens or we can see the beauty in each and every day that we have been gifted.
Nothing in life is perfect. Nothing ever goes exactly as we have planned. Nothing ever lives up to our dreams and preconceptions. My daughter recently wrote a blog called ” My Own Little Holland“. If you have ever read the poem called “Welcome to Holland” by Emily Kingsley (which is included in my daughter’s blog post), you will understand what I am talking about. If you spend the rest of your life upset that you didn’t get to Italy, you will never fully appreciate living in Holland.
Choice – to be angry, bitter, upset about all that I can not control or to remember each and every day that I am truly seriously blessed to be allowed to parent these beautiful children and to hear the word mama a hundred times every day in my own little Holland.
