"Don't go boneless!"

Everyone who has ever held a toddler's hand while leading them against their will knows the feeling of "going boneless".

You have them by the hand when suddenly all the bones in their tiny body give out and they are lying in a heap on the floor. Still holding hands you reach over and try to pull them along hoping they will find their bones and stand up. A little cooperation would be nice in that moment.

But they don't want to cooperate. They want to exert THEIR tiny little will.

"Don't go boneless," I say.

"WHYYYYY???," he cries.

"Because it's bedtime and you need sleep. It's good for you."

Compliance doesn't come easy as a toddler. Or when you are a thirty-something woman.

*sigh*

There is a THING that God is wanting me to do. A PATH He needs me to travel. He is holding my hand so I feel protected and secure.

But I really really really don't want to do "this" and go "there".

We walk along hand in hand. I feel His leading. My body goes limp, in a heap on the floor. Holding His hand is harder now. It takes work to hold on. A little cooperation would be nice in that moment.

But I don't want to cooperate. I want to exert MY tiny little will.

"Don't go boneless," He says

"WHYYYYY???," I cry.

"Because it's good for you and I love you."

Starting to think this is what Heaven will be like.

Life is on.

I can do this.

Breathe.

Can I tell you something deeply personal and you won't make fun of me? Promise?

I mean, I have already pretty much laid myself nekked here and here.

But this is different. This is a 100% BIGFATUGLY pride thing.

The story of how $5,000 changed my life, my outlook and my family.

For the last 15 years I have suffered from hearing loss. I would say that most people live with a slight to moderate loss and function just fine. Up until 2007, that was me. I could tell that I was missing some things, but really didn't impact me. It became a real problem the last couple of years. I was constantly hearing people wrong, or not at all. Life was getting confusing and very embarrassing.

Reading this post again made me laugh so loud!

Another classic example of my hearing embarrassment came during my last pregnancy. I was at the grocery store and the clerk asked me a question after she rang my total. Being ALL ABOUT ME most of the time, I smiled real big and said, "Why, yes! I AM pregnant!!"

Insert awkward pause.

Clerk looking at me with furrowed brow, "Will that be C-R-E-D-I-T or D-E-B-I-T???"

Riiiight.

We laughed so hard about that, but inside I knew it was time to get it "checked". Not fixed, mind you. Just checked. I really wasn't going to do anything about it. I mean, HEARING AIDS??? I might as well stop dying my hair.

My last test was in August 2009, I registered a SEVERE loss in both my ears. My left one worse than the right. In fact, when I lay on my right ear at night I can't hear a thing (which isn't all that bad, you know what I'm sayin). The doctor wanted to perform a CT scan just to see if there was any evidence causing the hearing loss, or to see if I was a candidate for reconstruction surgery.

The test came back negative on both counts showing severe nerve damage from past infections, etc. It seems like hearing aids are my only option.

Heap on heavy, heavy doses of paralyzing, ugly, hairy, sinful pride.

I WILL NOT EVER EVER NEVER WEAR HEARING AIDS. THEY WILL MAKE ME FEEL OLD AND PEOPLE WILL MAKE FUN OF ME. NOT GONNA DO IT. SO THERE.

Then a friend (dang her) asked me two questions.

1. If this was my child, would I hesitate to treat it? (no)

and, here is the kicker...

2. Would I be able to forgive myself if something happened to my kids and I couldn't hear them to save them.

UGH. UGH. UGH. Even still the pride was winning and I did nothing.

One Sunday we were sitting in church and I could not hear our pastor speak. It's a small church and HE WEARS A MICROPHONE FOR GOODNESS SAKE. I looked at Skip with tears in my eyes.

"It's time", I said.

Two weeks later, I had my fitting and placed my order for the smallest hearing aids on the market. Completely digital, completely hidden. One little clear wire runs from the top of my ear inside the canal. You would never know if I didn't tell you. My logic is that if you are close enough to see the clear wire, THEN YOU ARE WAY TOO CLOSE!

The moral of this story is my life changed in an instant. I don't feel old, I feel young. Well, young-ISH. It's a hearing aid, not a time machine!

My husband is happy not to hear, "huh?" all the time. My kids like not having to repeat EVERY SINGLE THING. My relationships are better. I don't worry about public outings anymore. I don't have to read lips and try to fill in with what I think someone just said. Conversations are not hard work anymore. It amazes me how many sounds I didn't know existed.

People. I have never heard AIR before. The sound of air. Downright miracle.

Funny story. When I got home from the audiologist the dishwasher was running but I didn't recognize the noise. Once I found the source I was flabbergasted. All this time I thought we had a "state-of-the-art-whisper-quiet" machine.

Um, yeah. We don't. We have a regular old loud one.

Dear friends, if you are struggling, get help. Don't let pride paralyze you.

Turn your life on.

"TO IMFIMANY AND BEYAHH"

In thirty years this will come full circle.

Over Christmas vacation we went to a lakehouse with Skip's entire family. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, dogs, boyfriends, girlfriends. The WHOLE family from 9 months to 80 years.

It was a FUN LOUD MESSY time filled with food, movies, football, bowling, wrestling, HGTV, and games. The only thing NOT good about it was the amount of sleep we were getting. I happen to like sleep...sort of my "passion" if you will. The kids really had free reign during this time. They crashed anytime between midnight and 3 AM. The house was so full of life that 3 AM felt like noon. Sometime in the middle of the night they all found their way back to our bed.

Tight.

Hot.

Sweaty.

Tossing.

Turning.

Sweet.

Skip and I decided to take our kids home a night early so they could get back into their routine and own beds. Personally, I was craving my own space and sleep. To a parent, this decision made complete sense. To a nine year old boy?

Well. I am convinced that nothing makes sense to a nine year old boy.

As we were packing to leave, Zeb came downstairs with a major chip on his shoulder. He was very upset that we were leaving complete with some sassing and some door slamming.

"MO-OOOM!!! You don't understand. You just...you just CARE too much about us. It's so embarrassing! Could you quit CARING sometimes?"

*straight face*

"OK. So. You are mad because I happen to CARE too much?"

"YES! Why can't you CARE LESS like a normal person?"




Just you wait, son. Just you wait.

Passion.

First of all...WOW! You, my friends, are amazing women! So encouraging, honest and kind. It's a funny thing, honesty. You live your life, you do your thing, you think you are alone but after a little raw-ness you realize that YOU WERE NEVER ALONE. NOT EVEN CLOSE!

You blessed me. Thank you.

Second of all, if you are my pastor you are about to get a second shout-out today. But I feel pretty safe knowing that my pastor doesn't waste his precious time reading the wandering thoughts of a snot-covered mommy with elastic pants. Pretty sure he has a million and one OTHER THINGS to do.

(But, Joe, if you are reading...I think you are just great!)

Along with teaching about JOY, he has spent time encouraging and challenging each of us to find our PASSION in life. Over the course of a few months people have began to share their passion. Which, of course, triggers a deep sense of insecurity in me because I lack a passion.

Maybe it's not lacking in me...maybe it's just the word "PASSION." It's a BIG, SCARY word for someone who can't easily identify theirs. It conjures up guilt in me, selfishness even. My heart wants a passion, but my brain says, "how selfish to think about anything other than your family."



Of course, there is nothing more important to me than my husband and kids. But is that all I am? Isn't there something in me that is JUST MINE? Something that makes my face light up and my wheels turn?

Oh, here comes the guilt voice again.

"Your children, your husband and your home should be all those things."

God is funny about taking something and making a THEME of it. Since this passion series came up at church I have been in more conversations with people where I can easily identify theirs.

**A grandmother who devotes her time to learning how to take wonderful pictures.

**Lady at church has a passion for helping Hispanic women clothe and feed their children.

**Many families whose heart belongs on another continent waiting for adoption.

**Young woman who gave up an entire year of her single-ness to join a missionary race around the globe.

**Young man has a heart for traveling to Jerusalem and taking his baby sister.

**Mom who started designing clothes for her daughters and now has a booming business.

**Friend so committed to seeing others get healthy that she started a Boot Camp in her area.

I could go on and on, but the thing is a whole lot of people have a PASSION for something bigger than themselves. And in all of these cases I believe they are God-given.

So, that leads me to wonder about myself.

Heaven help me, here is my list of what I could be "passionate" about...

**sarcasm
**coffee
**napping
**watching every episode of Friends

But something bigger?

I just don't see it...

I hope to find it, and with it the WOMAN that God designed without a trace of insecurity, guilt or shame!

What about you? What is your PASSION? What makes your wheels turn?

Raw.

You know the feeling when you are driving through thick, dense fog? Fog so thick you fear you won't see the car in front of you, or the direction that you need to take. You can only see inches in front of you forcing you to slow down. Hopefully in the slower tense pace you find yourself muttering a desperate prayer for help. Because that prayer may be the only thing saving you from being swallowed up in the fog, or worse.

Well, that was 2010.

OK, maybe that is a little dramatic. But sometimes reality is full of drama!

That is exactly how I have felt this year. This is the year that things got hard. Really, really hard. Friendships were tested and some lost, finances were strained, secure jobs became unstable, parenting sprouted severe insecurities, our calendar reached maximum capacity, my metabolism changed, the mundane became even more mundane. And I went missing. My spark died out.

On many occasions I let the fog roll in around me and take me away. I didn't have the strength to survive it, much less see through it. I gave in.

This should be the time when I tell you that I turned to my Bible and let God carry me through this storm. I wish I could say that. It seems like I found even more excuses not to that very thing. Yet, strangely enough, I can say that I have never felt closer to God, or more loved.

Our pastor spent a significant time this year talking about "Pure Joy". Joy that only comes in the midst of crisis and darkness. I sat through many Sundays not getting it. How can I have JOY when life is crumbling around me? It hit me one day after a phone call with a dear friend. When life is good and the riches are piling up, you don't recognize joy. But when darkness settles in and you can't make your way through it, you find the purest form of God's love.

Here is an example from my life this year. Our puppy was in a freak accident and needed three surgeries to heal. Finances have been so strained this year that Skip and I weren't sure we could afford to keep going with her treatments and hospitalization. We were days away from putting her to sleep. When the vet called to tell us she needed to have the third surgery I knew in my heart we couldn't afford it and needed to end this. Out of the goodness of his heart, our vet took away all the remaining costs of our puppy's care. He wanted to see her healed and returned to our family...AT NO ADDITIONAL COST TO US.

It was at that moment that I felt God whisper to my heart regarding His definition of joy. It's the little gifts He gives us. This was a pretty extravagant gift, but it took this act of kindness for me to see what joy means.

Pure joy is
...the perfect timing of a phone call
...it's a child's much needed nap time
...it's a clean house
...it's a sweet word from my husband
...it's in my home when my kids are getting along
...it's in a one-on-one lunch with a friend
...it's in telling the truth...the hard truth
...it's in an offer from my mom to take the kids
...it's in a smile from the clerk who knows how hard it is to shop with a toddler.

It's the moments that God gives us to HEAL some of the hard. Make it more BEARABLE.

Once I recognized what Joy means in God's economy the fog has lifted. The circumstances of the fog haven't...life is still beating us down. But I can see God's offering to me. He is handing me joy on a silver platter. Every day.

My hope this new year is to continue to see the joy in the mundane and hard. To see the richness in suffering. It is for a purpose.

Before you get all worried about me, I am really OK. The suffering of this year has been good, too. It has caused Skip and I to make some decisions on how we spend our time and reduce the waste on the calendar. It has turned our family inward. There is nothing greater than being home together. It has quieted down the noise. I value these changes. I like not having a full calendar. I have fallen in love with Skip again watching him navigate his own pain. I wouldn't trade any of it!

My hopes in starting this blog again is to find the WOMAN in the MOMMY. I hope by slowing things down and appreciating life more, I will savor this season. I love you all and have missed our connection on the pages of our blogs.

Here's to a fresh start!