Donkeys and Frick Ups.

Nuggets,

I am a donkey. There I said it. I give you the freedom to say it about me. I'm not afraid of your acknowledgment of my heavy list of flaws. I make no fantasies about you thinking that I was (or am) perfect. I'm not. I'm terrible in a lot of ways.

I think of all people on this planet who might try to assess my personality, you and your Dad are the most capable. You are often the audience of my weaknesses. I struggle with sin. I struggle with soul ugliness. I think you also see my strengths the most clearly as well. Yes, I hope that you will ignore the weaknesses and make the strengths the center of your parental photographs, but it doesn't dominate my existence. You will remember me how you remember me.

Truth is, I think I am better on paper. I can edit out the words I don't like, or undo the things I shouldn't say. Paper makes me seem kinder or more loving than I am. Paper doesn't hold my impulsive shouts, or my unforgiving knee-jerk reactions. Paper doesn't etch painful words in your ears in a moments of foolishness. Paper isn't impulsive. I think that's partly why I've started this blog. I can edit my f'ed up brain to the things I wanted to say, or the things I want you to understand. I can water down the disappointments in the message, and give you the purpose as my heart sees it, and the love as my heart means it.

I hope you understand that while I admit to my failures, I am resoundingly seeking to improve on them. I don't want to ever be that person who says "Well I'm just that way" and then give up and give in. It's why I feel like I'm constantly apologizing. Recognize when you have failed, apologize, and then correct the behavior. You have the power to change your behavior.

You are a part of my story, but you aren't my legend. You are not my saga. My value and worth is not summed up in the completion of your lives. I say this, because I hope that when you have your own children, you will recognize that. Your children are not you. They don't determine how great or how bad you are (or were). They are their own people.

Society is hell bent on changing and perverting that scenario. They fill the atmosphere with bullshit statements like I am a frick up because my parents were mean (or absent, or busy, or angry, or sad). It's such bull. The real truth is that someone is a frick up because they choose to be. Every single one of my sin-filled, weakness-filled, unloving-filled actions are a direct result of my choices. They are my failures, my flaws, my problems. Not my parents. As much as it would be easy street to blame my sin on grandma and grandpa, I've earned that badge all by myself. Just like I've earned my successes myself. My parents were along for the ride, giving advice (often times unspoken, in the form of role models) directing the traffic, and helping me to navigate life all on my own.

But I digress. My point is this: I am flawed. I am always a work in progress. I try so hard to help you to overcome the sin issues that I struggle with, because I don't want them to dominate your lives like they have dominated mine. I don't want you to have a life time of demons that have been following you around. I want you to be stronger, better, more loving than me. I want you to rise up out the the ashes and soar on wings... free. I want you to be free.

When you four are sitting around the living room, recalling these days we're living now, most likely laughing about me and Dad, I hope the underlying thought is always this: our parents loved us. As fricked up as they are, and were, they loved us with all that they had. Because we do, my Nuggets. We really do.

Death

Nuggets,

I don't want you to be afraid of death. Not yours, or mine, or anyone else's. I spent a lot of time being afraid of death as a little kid. It was like opening a door that I couldn't see beyond and it scared me. It seemed so final, so painful, so horrifying.

Death can be horrifying. It can be gruesome and painful and slow. Truth be told, right now I am slowly dying. And so are you. Kind of crazy to think about, isn't it? Death can also be sudden. Like the pop of a firework on the 4th of July, death can come knocking on anyone's door any second. Maybe it could happen in a car accident, maybe a blood clot, maybe a heart attack... death looms everywhere. And yet we spend so much time ignoring it.

Please, for the love of humanity, don't ignore death. Everyone dies. It's a fact: death and taxes. Even the unreligious folks have to acknowledge it. It is undeniable. I want you to live every single day with this reality present in your mind: one day you will die... then what?

What will your life have meant? What will your legacy be? Where will your story end? Will people breathe a sigh of relief upon your last breath? Or will the agony of a life without you seem daunting? Will the world care that you walked upon her surface? Will the earth itself mourn your absence? Will you have poured out so much grace, love, joy, kindness, patience that the void of your absence will send echoes around the world? What about in the people that surround you?

I don't want you to fear my death. Even when my heart stops beating, my blood stops pumping, my brain stops processing, I will still be with you. I like to envision the Angels in heaven, anticipating my arrival, like we anticipate the end of Daddy's deployments. Maybe they'll have banners, maybe they are currently counting down the minutes. Maybe they're waiting on the 72-hour-notification process. Maybe the Saints are all jumping up and down with excitement, looking for the plane, wanting the moments to hurry up! With each moment that ticks away here, I am one moment closer, there. There... Please don't ever forget about all that I have told you about "There". All of my feisty, go-getter-attitude, will still be with me when I get There. All the spunkiness, that God created me to be (my Martha personality) will still be with me when I get There. I will still pray for you, protect you, and love you. No matter what.

I try hard to remember these things in my daily moments. I try to think about what I want to be imprinted in your memories of me. I work hard on constantly calling to mind my own death. Because I want it to lead the way I live. I want my life to change the world. I want my life to pour out love on people with every single beat of my heart. I want my absence to send echoes around the world. Not in grief, or sadness, but rather in inspiration. I want my life to be an inspiration to others: love with all you have.  

Remember this: live this day, like you are dying... because you are. Live a life that echoes throughout the world. The world needs that kind of love. Desperately. You were brought here for such a purpose as this. And always remember that I love you with all that I am, was, and will ever be. I have given all I have to you and your Daddy, and it's been the best experience that ever could have happened in my life. You five, are the echoes that have reverberated in my soul, and changed my world in every single way. I will never be the same, I can't be, because of you. I hope you always hold that fact close to your soul. I hope you take it out on dark days, and it gives you comfort. Your lives already have made a beautifully massive impact. Look what Love can do.

Love

Nuggets,

Don't ever give up on love. Just don't do it. Don't ever walk away from it. Or hide your war beaten heart from it. Don't ignore it and forsake it.

If there is anything that I have ever taught you or given you the ability to understand, it is this that I hold dearest to my heart. Love always wins in the end. You just have to be brave enough, gentle enough, faithful enough to wait it out.

It's the only gift that keeps on giving. It's the only treasure that can't be priced, because it can't be forced out of you. It's the only gift that literally covers a multitude of sins, hurts, betrayals, devastations. Love makes life worth living. Love. It's the most beautiful four letter word in the world.

Agape love saved my life. It saved your Daddy's. Agape love saved our marriage. It literally brought life in to this world. Love conquered death. Not just the Jesus version of that equation either. Love, literally, conquered death, in my life. Love brought your father back to me. When every single aspect of who he was, and is, and could have been, died.

Love covered a multitude of sins. It healed the wounds that war inflicted on my body. It saved me from the darkness of fear, anger, and abandonment. Love is the greatest of heroes. Love never hurts, never betrays, never ends. Love is!

Don't you ever turn your back on love. You wait for it. You wait for it to come, like the life changing, all encompassing, magical experience that it is. You fight with every single ounce of fight you have in you, to keep it alive. You nurture it, cherish it, honor it.

Don't you ever stop giving it away. Love isn't love unless you're pouring it out on those around you. Love is giving it away.

Don't confuse love with emotions. It's not. Love is action. Love is choices. Love is waking up every single day and deciding to be bigger, more powerful, more generous than your selfish nature wants to convince you to be. Love is doing. Love is flexible. It's choosing to believe the best of people, being kind, encouraging, supportive... Love is forgiving the wrongs done against you, in the most supernatural, humanly-impossible type of way.

Love means losing your life. You can't hold on to your life, and love. Love is the act of giving your life away.

Be that person. Be that person who loves so hard, and so big, and so powerfully, that no one can give you the credit. Be that person through whom a multitude of hurts are healed, and a plethora of wrongs are righted. Be bigger than what the world will try and convince you to be.

Be the Love that changes the whole world.

Fuzzy

I was fast asleep, knee deep in a dream about decorating a home celebrating the birth of a baby, when out of the depths of my soul, a voice beckoned me back to reality. Mommy? I keep having nightmares. Can I sleep with you?

I settled you down on the floor beside my bed. Pulled my body up out of my bed, and laid down next to you. I rubbed your head, like I've always done ever since you were little. Your furry little head that has encompassed the brain that has surpassed every expectation. Your scalp is encircled by cowlicks, proof pudding that you were kissed by angels, miraculously healed, and brought forth in to this world. At the very based of your skull, you have a perfectly circular patch of blonde hair. When people glance at you, they think you have a randomly weird bald spot. But I know better. I know it's where God Himself, healed you, before you were born. It's where all of the sickness that kept me laying down for seven and a half months went away. It is what kept me from bleeding out on the operating table, and kept you from dying inside of me. The proof pudding of a miracle.

You are my miracle. One of the three that came in to my world and rocked every single aspect of it to its core. You broke down my ideas of control, brought me to my knees, and showed me what complete and utter helplessness looks like. You taught me to let go. You taught me that love walks through the valley of the shadow of death, and keeps on going even when they don't see any lights at the end of the tunnel. You taught me that fighting means laying one quarter of all of the love in your soul at the feet of God, and your pediatrician, and hoping and praying that your lungs will re-expand with air, that your brain will stop seizing, that your stomach will start working. You showed me the immaculate power of a tiny little human being's capability to defeat every single medical odd placed against it. You showed me how to not give up.

Last night there was something tangible that I could do to protect you. So I spent the night rubbing your fuzzy little head, and making certain that you knew I was present with all that I was. As tired as I was (and am), it was an honor. I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Sticks and Stones

Nuggets, times are going to come in your lives where you feel really sad, and there's not necessarily a pin-point-able reason for it. There are periods of life where things are just sad. It might be sadness directly related to your life journey. Maybe you will be struggling with your spouse, children, finances, education, career. Maybe a friend will betray you or hurt you. Maybe you will be grieving the loss of someone who mattered to you.

There might come across your radar times where nothing in your personal journey is hard, but those you love are walking some horrific journeys themselves and you can't fix it. You will be helpless to their pain and that hurts. Especially if they are journeys that you relate to oh so specifically. If they are hurts that you've healed from and you remember, you empathize with, the path that they are being forced to walk down.

One of the big life lessons that I hope I can impart to you, my Nuggets, is this: sadness isn't something to fear. It isn't necessarily something to medicate, even though society will most likely tell you otherwise. Sadness should be embraced. We should give ourselves permission to grieve. We reject it all too often here in America, especially in the Christian realm. We have convinced ourselves that life should be happy, candy, la la la lovely all. the. time. This is ludicrous. Unrealistic. Impossible to attain. And then we beat ourselves up all the more for failing to force ourselves to be what someone else has decided we should be.

Grief has a very appropriate place in our realm. Grief can be horrific, but it can also be beautiful. Don't be afraid of it. Don't be afraid to mourn. Loving people means that you will experience these periods of hurt. You have to be brave enough, and strong enough, to recognize that loved ones are worth your sadness. And recognize in advance that when you open your self up to love others, their grief will become your grief. Their loneliness, will become yours. It has to. Otherwise you don't love them.

I hope you understand that when you experience your own personal journeys of strife, my soul will be grieving with you. You will never be alone in your sorrow. It's part of my Mommy super powers. I will sit in the pit with you, soak up the mud, and wait with you until you are ready to walk out on your own. I will always be your advocate. Even if that looks like me sitting there silent with you, while you scream and shout and cry. Even if that forces me into a helpless stance while I watch you embark on a journey that I oh so sympathize with.

Always understand this, about me, my Nuggets: I am not afraid of your grief. I am strong enough to hold it. You will always be worth my sadness. You will always have my platform of love to jump off of. Always.

Safety

You were afraid and you started to cry. I know it's not true, but I feel like there are eyes watching me and I'm scared. Cue warrior Mommy. "I will fight off every monster. I will defend you with my life. There is nothing that will prevent me from rushing to your aid. Me and Daddy will give our lives for you four. Without a thought. And Gus and Foofie would too." I know. But I'm just scared.

The four of you decided to huddle down together. You said there was safety in numbers and bad guys can't see how small we are if we're together. I was struck by the sheer genius-ness of that thought process. One of you had a problem, and the four of you banded together and solved it. This is what Mommy's dream about. Safety in numbers...

It raises up in me the need to be your supernatural ninja. I too, had horrible night-time hauntings. The images were so vivid, so powerful, that I can still recall them as if it were yesterday. I remember feeling so weak and powerless against the spiritual realm seeking to destroy me. I often found safety in the presence of another person there. It wasn't that they fought off my demons, or that they would be easier prey... It was the peace and comfort of knowing I was safer in numbers. I was bigger, more menacing, more difficult to take down.

This is still true today, but in different ways. As a Mommy, Army Wife, Christian... there is safety in numbers. When Chief and I band together to raise our children, we are stronger. When I am sitting in my van with my Army spouses, after we've closed down Starbucks, laughing, and sharing silly stories, we are less easily defeated by the hardships of our lifestyle. We are revived, renewed, sent home stronger and more resilient. When I am learning, studying, challenging with my fellow Catholics, then I am more able to live out loud, all that Christ has called me to.

Safety in numbers..

I hope that the four of you never lose sight of this truth. I hope you always know you can rely on each other. One day Daddy and I will fade away. Maybe it will be faded minds/memories, or maybe it will be our bodies transforming into the infinite realm, but you four will always be. There will never be a replacement, or any one else who will quite understand what it was to grow up in our family. There will never be someone who can understand things like your siblings. You all will be able to encourage each other, protect each other, defend each other like no one else. I hope you will always use this unique understanding to better push each other to better places. I hope you will always be each others superheroes. I pray that you will always wrap around the fragile, broken one, hurting one and stand together so that "bad guys can't see how small you are if you're together".

I hope you never lose sight of this moment where the four of you banded together to create safety in numbers.

Veteran's Day

It had been a really long day. We were up early, and it was go-go-go, as weddings usually are. It was a beautiful experience, watching the last of my sisters get married. Despite all of their weaknesses and flaws, my parents had successfully completed their "task". We were all married, connected, moving forward...

I was plumped down on the couch in the "quiet room" at the reception hall. My feet were killing me from those bridesmaid torture devices they call shoes. I heard a couple of people saying oh you've got to get over here and see this. I didn't think much of it, truthfully. There's a lot of that sort of thing going on at weddings. But, because it was my sister's wedding, after all, I got up to see.

He was dressed in his military uniform. He didn't actually want to wear it. To him, it was signing himself up for attention, something that he abhors, especially in this capacity. He doesn't do it for glory. He doesn't do it for accolades. He does it for honor, duty, faithfulness. He does it in defense of this beautiful nation. He didn't want to wear this most handsome of uniforms, but he did, because my little sister wanted him to. And as much as they've disagreed, fought, and battled each other, he loves her. And she's proud of him.

As I got up to look at what these women were talking about, I saw my husband, my soldier, surrounded by children. They were swarming him. Questioning him, barking orders. "Drop and give me twenty!" And he was faithful to the call. He dropped and pushed them out One! Two! Three...! "Now give me fifteen more!!!" He answered their questions as best as he could. "What do you do?" I'm a tanker. "Have you used a gun?" Yes. "What happens if you die?" Someone else stands up to take my place. "Yes, but what happens if you die?" Then my family feels very, very sad.

It was really beautiful to see the tiny glimpse that I saw. I didn't want to interrupt him, or throw off his moment, so I walked away. He told me later that he felt like these kids were so desperate to know, so he didn't want to let them down. He wanted to give them the best experience he could ever give, about soldiers. So he let them smoke him, hound him, boss him...

My heart swells with immense gratitude and joy because of these heroes. The real-life superstars. Thank you to all of our Veterans: the current fighters, defending our nation, and all of the ones who have gone before. I appreciate you with all that I am.