Steady Mom

i say 'fear not,' and they believe me

heaven in our backyard

When I read my children Bible stories, a phrase that arises time and time again is "fear not." My children, in their innocence, believe this phrase. So do I.

Not that they don't have any fears. We deal with occasional nightmares and worries like anyone else. But they believe God is with them. That He takes good care of them. Their world is a lovely framework of safety and security--one long trust from day's end to day's end. It's beautiful, the way they understand life.

I've been asked a few times why we haven't told the kids about what happened in our sweet town a few weeks ago, and this is the reason. They have no capacity to wrap their minds around it--it would only introduce new, unneeded and unhelpful fears.

You have only to look at Facebook to see that we as parents, as grown adults, as citizens, can't understand what has happened. We try to wrestle it out, make sense of it somehow.

But it doesn't make any sense. What hope do my young kids have of understanding something I cannot? There is a time and space for the conversation, but this is not the time, nor is this the space.

I've raised my children to be sensitive, and I will guard that sensitivity for as long as possible. Instead of believing that this ill prepares them for the 'real world,' I believe the opposite. My children know loss and struggle--they know of leaving cultures and birthmothers, of wishing for family, of modern-day slavery.

But they know about overcoming, too. About happy endings. About the fact that we are called--that they are called--to make a difference in the world. And that making a difference is actually possible.

Hope, optimism, trust, faith. I'll do my best to leave fear behind as I stir up these qualities in the hearts and minds of my little ones.

A note: Remember I'm doing what is right for my family, and what is right for yours may be different. This message may or may not be for you--see how it feels and follow your own internal compass.

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"Children need to know that theirs is a good world. They need to feel that,
sheltered by those they love, they are where they should be.
They have a place, in a time and a world of hope and promise."
~ Kim John Payne, Simplicity Parenting (probably my favorite parenting book ever!)

 

on gratitude and grief

For most of you, life goes on--as well it should. There is, after all, a big holiday coming up with presents to wrap, dishes to cook, family to visit.

But those of us in Newtown falter between two extremes. We begin to pull our daily routines together again, but then we drive pass a hearse with a tiny coffin inside.

We get calls and emails from concerned friends--and even online stores where we placed Christmas orders. They've noticed where we live and ask with sadness, "Are you okay?"

Our address alone is infamous.

We can't drive through our teeny downtown area--because it is plastered with press and mourners coming to pay heartfelt respects. Signs everywhere read "We love Newtown" and "Keep Sandy Hook in your prayers."

And since my three little people still have no idea about what happened less than five miles away, this means we are staying home a lot. Waiting for time and distance to give some space before we have to address it--if we must.

I teeter between gratitude and grief:

I can't pretend that I'm not grateful my children were not in that school building--because I am.

Yet I can't pretend that I'm not heartbroken for the parents down the street and around the corner--because I am. Devestated for this town we've grown to love.

Those of you who read here know I usually write short posts--snippets from my own life with a takeaway you can hopefully apply to your own. That's not easy to do this week, which is why I've stayed away.

Right now I am, along with many in my community, living someplace in the "in-between"--a pendulum of emotions swinging wildly from one side to another.

Instead of fighting against them, I'm trying to follow their lead. To not demand "normal." To weep and ask the hard questions. Then to laugh, smile, make cookies, hug my babies tighter.

In the midst of grief, I'm grateful.

Desperately grateful that in a world turned upside down my family can cling to One born to bring life and hope to us all.

I can't pretend I'm not thankful that Christmas is around the corner--because I am.

"A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born"
~ O Holy Night

 

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.
They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.
They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love."
~ Washington Irving

 

Newtown as I know it

I never intended to write about my current location here, or in any online space. I crave privacy and am tiger-mother fierce about protecting that of my kids. But when you see the town in which you live and love plastered across national and international news, the time has come to open up.

I make my home in Newtown, Connecticut–scene of last week’s 2nd deadliest school shooting in US history. If we had not chosen to homeschool, all three of my babes would have walked through the doors of Sandy Hook Elementary on Friday morning.

Who knows if all three would have come home again.

This tragedy hits close, shockingly close, to our home. Within walking distance families currently nurse a private grief that I find unimaginable.

What disturbs me, though, is that most of you are hearing about Newtown for the first time. Please know that there is another side than the sheer horror of what you’ve seen.

There’s the truth–what life is really like here. And though we’ve only lived in this town for a year and a half, this place will be part of our family’s heart, and history, forever.

This is Newtown as I know it:

Click here for the rest of this post.

all kids have special needs.

Today I'm sharing over on Simple Homeschool about what I've learned as a mama to a child with special needs.

From my post:

"Over a decade ago, I had the extraordinary honor of working with special needs children in both schools and homes. I mainly helped them and their families in whatever way I could, and did my best to shower a little extra love their way. I worked with some children who were severely disabled, a child with cerebral palsy, a child with ADHD, and children with autism.

I both loved and feared this work. Loved it–because I felt like I was making a difference in the lives of these families and learning so much at the same time.

Feared it–because in the back of my mind I wondered if maybe God was preparing me for something. Like one day he was going to “make” me have a child with special needs of my own.

Warped, I know.

It turns out He didn’t make me, instead He made me want a child with special needs. Want to adopt one, to be exact. My husband and I, with some fear, but a bit of faith too, chose it–and the child God brought in His wisdom is our daughter Trishna."

Head here to read the rest and join the discussion!

My girl, soon after coming home at the age of four. Isn’t she gorgeous? Photo by pennybird