I Still Have My Flip-Flops

What would you be willing to let go of to save your life?  What is something you're grasping tightly to that is proving to be detrimental to your very being?  These questions became very real to me this past weekend.  

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Very few people know my entire story, you know the story with those dirty details you wished weren't written in your book. Even though the Lord has been truly gracious in His forgiveness and has redeemed me in a powerful way it's a book I like to keep hidden.    

This weekend, a few of my friends and I enjoyed a couple of days together for a mini moms' retreat. We connected in profound ways through sharing our stories, our tears, our love for our families, and the grace that the Lord has provided to each and every one of us. We came back more tired than when we left (staying up past 2am will do that) but had a profound understanding of our roles back at home. God showed up in big ways.  It was exactly what we all needed.   

Saturday morning, the four of us decided we wanted to head down and float the river.  For some of us it was a new adventure and one I had wanted to do since I was a teen.  A shuttle took us to the entrance and there were people as far as you could see.  Many of them were young college kids enjoying the first days of summer while alcohol filled their coolers and the swelling of music was in our ears.  Looking around and every sense of mine was heightened, I heard a small whisper from the enemy himself:

 "Doesn't that look fun?  Remember when that was you?"  

I turned to my sweet friend and told her that this trip was challenging me in ways I thought I had left behind. I was reminiscing about the good 'ol days and the fun I used to have.  My mind quickly became aware of every detail around me and the sensation of the moment was at the forefront of my mind.  

A little background here: there was a period of time just after high-school that I enjoyed the party scene.  I exhibited very little self-control and found myself in situations I never thought possible. Through the conviction of the Holy Spirit, I knew it was wrong but I allowed myself to use pinned up anger and resentment to tell myself this lifestyle was fun and rewarding. The effects from that period of time are still present in my life today.  

We made it into our tubes and began the two hour journey down the river.  Not too far from the beginning is a tube chute that sends you down a water slide that is carved into the side of the dam to divert all the tubes around in order to continue to float the river.  At the end of the chute is extremely strong currents and several lifeguards are there waiting to jump to action at a moment's notice.  

Once down the chute, you don't have much of an option as to where you go.  You are at the mercy of the river and if you're lucky, you will continue on your path or, like us, the current pulls your tube up stream and you continue in this circle until you happen to be pushed past the major current.  After about 20 or more minutes of making the circle we find ourselves back around to the end of the chute. I begin rocking back in forth in my tube as we are all trying to get past the current and onto our destination. We finally get to what we feel like is success and my tube flips over.  

I am a good swimmer and enjoy being in the water so I wasn't worried at all when I went under.  With sunglasses on, a bottle of kombucha and green flip-fops in my hand I began to swim to the surface. Never in my life had I felt a current this strong and I quickly begin to realize that I was in trouble. I'm swimming as hard as I can, desperately holding onto my drink and flip-flops just realizing that my sunglasses were no longer on my head.  I finally emerged but was instantly pulled back under.  Just as my face went below the surface, I saw a lifeguard jump in the water.  I knew it was for me and I was scared to death, yet my determination kept me going and I was working harder than ever to swim up to the top.  He jumped in and wrapped his arm around my waist.  I remember thinking that there was no way he was strong enough to pull me to safety but lo and behold we were making our way back to the surface. Thankfully, my friends and my empty tube were just in reach.  I stayed there holding onto my tube catching my breath and trying to gain an understanding of what just happened.  We reached a calm part in the river and I climbed back in.  Thankful for my life, I heard another whisper.  This time it was from the Lord.  

"Mandy, had you been drinking and still living in sin that you had earlier been glorifying, you would have died.  Jeff would be left alone to take care of three boys that I've gifted you.  Remember, I brought you out of that lifestyle for a purpose.  Trust Me.  I love you and have a future for you." 

..........  

I tend to lose focus when the monotony of everyday life takes over.  Boys, adoption, homeschool, laundry, dishes, cooking; the list continues.  Not to mention trying to be a loving, submissive wife. My eyes well up with tears as I relive this weekend.  Not just for the fear of what could have happened but the overwhelming love I felt from my Father.  He rescued me from my past and He rescued me for my future.  My desire for the old left when I took another breath.  God isn't finished with me and if you're reading this, He isn't finished with you either.  There are hard days and life feels hopeless sometimes but if you are ready to listen He is speaking to your heart right now.  Just stop and hear the whisper.  

And yes, I still have my flip-flops....  

You're Wasting Time

When's the last time you've seen it?  Really, really seen it?  Brokenness that brings you to your knees, with tears streaming and crying out to the Lord "please come".  Maybe you're personally experiencing this kind of brokenness and you don't see a way out.  Definitely not what you intended or ever dreamed of.  Every so often, this brokenness rears it's ugly head and I'm thrown smack down in the middle of it.  Clinging to the cliff that I feel like I'm falling off of and crying out to God, "not now, not again".  I'm tired of seeing the hurt and the nastiness that is in every crack and crevice of this world.  And I'm going to venture out and say that to truly be the hands and feet of Christ, you will need to not only witness it but come alongside and experience it yourself.  And let me tell you, it will be the most uncomfortable you've ever been.

...............

The sun is shining, conversations with precious friends, and happy children are enjoying a moment of escape from the life of school and chores.  It was a moment I could stay in forever.  But then, as real life does not stay beautiful like this for very long, a friend shares her heart, her life and the despair she's feeling.  You can't be present in that moment without feeling it with her.  Wanting to take it away, offer a quick fix, or snap your fingers and put her at the other end when things will finally feel good again, but you can't.  We listen, cry with her, and offer her encouragement in the only way we know how. Friendship is tough and doing life with one another is a beautiful mess. A mess I'm happy to be part of.  A couple of hours go by and little did I know but I was about to be sucked into a little life that would further break my heart.  

Picture this little boy, about three years old with brown hair and golden brown eyes, with the word "stinker" written all over him.  He was cute, no doubt about that, but within two minutes of my eyes catching his antics I knew he had a story just waiting to be told.

Rocks flying from his little hands with a posture ready to fight, he had no remorse when his peers tearfully told him to stop.  My friends and I looked around for the parents waiting for them to intervene, but nothing.  It happened again, rocks raining down on the heads and into the eyes of other toddlers.  Looked around, still nothing.  When I saw it a third time, I decided to intervene from a distance "hey, rocks stay on the ground".  Brown eyes look over, and lo and behold the rocks are deliberately thrown again.  Parents?  Nope, still nothing.  So I decide to get up, go over to him and bend down to get on his level.  I look into his eyes and calmly say "Remember, rocks stay on the ground.  Your friends don't like that game."  Guess what, he picked up the rocks and threw them once again.  

I leave and go sit back down with my friends. "Well, I tried.  But I give up!"
I still don't see any parents and I begin to get a little uncomfortable redirecting a child I know nothing about.  We all continued to watch and then a friend noticed his mom off in a distance.  Something clicked and I just knew...he's in foster care.  Once I realized mom (or whoever) wasn't going to be involved with him, I decided to try and interact with him on a different level.  As I walked over again, he grabbed some rocks and threw them.  I bent down and asked him his name.  After he told me, he screeched with a demand of "swing me!!" He obviously had no home training and was coming from some sort of trauma.  He was used to strangers and had a superficial trusting of random adults.  My heart broke.  I saw my own boys in this small child.  I was reminded of their stories and the brokenness of the system.  After a few minutes of swinging, I told him I was going to go sit with my friends.  His voice clamored out, "I go with you!" and here he came following closely behind.  He sat down next to me and said "I want to eat with you. I'll go get my food."  I told him to ask his mom and he unemotionally responded "That's not my mom, that's my foster mom."  Tears came streaming down my cheeks and again I was reminded of the stories of those that call me mom.

I wish I could say that I handled this well, that I had compassion for his "foster mom" and that I had energy and a desire to invest in her life.  But honestly, I was angry.  I hear from my oldest two the horror they endured while in foster care.  They have more trauma in living in 10 different homes in two years than the four and six years of living with their biological parents.  I was angry that she didn't parent him, engage with him, or that fact that she was completely fine with her son spending unsupervised time with a stranger.  She has six kids in her care, all under four.  I didn't show her grace and I didn't have any compassion for her.  I was judgemental, angry, and heartbroken for all involved.

I didn't care that she's probably tired, overwhelmed, and lacks any parenting skills.  I'm mad at the system that would set her and these precious lives up to fail.  I'm angry that she has three different CPS cases in her care from three different counties and that her husband works from 3pm-11pm.  She could not possibly be successful with this situation.  But I still didn't care.

I'm thankful that when I'm in the midst of sin and can't see God calling me to do something, He calls others.  My precious friend decided to get up and go talk to the mom, learn her story and minister to her.  Numbers were exchanged and commitments were made to pour into her life.  Where this story goes, only the Lord knows.  But I know He's calling you.  Will you make a difference?  When will you truly become uncomfortable for the Lord?  Have you thought about becoming a foster parent? Why does CPS give a young woman six kids under four to care for?  

BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE ENOUGH HOMES

Fast forward a few hours, having dinner with my three precious gifts and the story from the park comes up.  Mark is angry and memories begin to flow from his sweet lips. 

Mark: "Mom, wonder if they aren't getting fed." 

Mom: "I think they are, they seem like they were eating.  Do you remember not getting fed in foster care?"

Mark: "No.  But I remember not getting fed with (first mom) and (first dad).  I used to sneak into the pantry and get the peanut butter and then go hide to eat it."

Mom: "How do you feel talking about this right now."

Mark: "Fine.  I just can't believe I did that."

Lord God, please come.  Now

Don't Lose Heart

"Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day."

2 Corinthians 4:16

 Plans of watching my husband play softball, sitting in the bleachers on a beautiful fall evening, seeing the smiles on my boys' faces as daddy steps to the plate, and snuggled together because 73 all of a sudden feels crisp and cool was my hope for tonight.  But now at 7:30, everyone is tucked in bed and Jeff is off to his game and I'm sitting here wondering if what I did was the right thing.

..........

Today was going to be a good day and this week was going to be great.  The week was planned and assignment sheets were filled out, grocery shopping was done, meal prep was taken care of and an impromptu field trip made the list for an outing today.  I spent time in the Word and worked with my youngest on learning a bible verse together, all while feeling confident in how things were going.  

On the way to our "field trip", the boys working on school in the back of the car, I started receiving some concerning questions regarding assignments.  A little back information first:

You see, about ten weeks ago I embraced a new teaching philosophy and have truly enjoyed the freedom that it offered.  We focus heavily on reading, writing, and math with all being self-taught.  At first, there were many obstacles that we had to overcome but within about three weeks, the boys were excelling and loving the new program.  With it being self-directed, there is not much micromanaging from me as their teacher but that also means that things can go unnoticed for several days.  

And that's what came to light today.

Part of their studies is learning new vocabulary that they see in their reading.  They are given one or two new words every day to learn and a vocabulary map to fill out.  They are also to practice daily their current unit words .  Each unit has about 20 words that they will complete in about a three week time span. And no, their work isn't always fun, engaging, or gets them excited.  Sometimes it's just work and I'm ok with that.  

My oldest has reached his first quiz and I quickly realized that he had not been studying his words. The heart issue that actually came out was the fact that he had been lying about it for the past two weeks.  When I would ask him if he had studied his words for the day he enthusiastically told me "Yes!" and I believed him.  And then, his brother came clean and verbalized the same sin.  They both had been lying incessantly in order to get "finished" quicker and move on with their day; a.k.a. playing.

To make matters worse, we were meeting several families at the park this afternoon to hang out with an old friend we all hadn't seen in months.  I wanted to go and wanted to allow Christopher time to play but that meant that I had to decide whether to let them play and implement a consequence once we were home or to make them sit out and do school while all their friends were playing.  Well, I made them sit and work.  I reminded them that they expressed to me that playing was the most important thing to them, so much so that they would lie or cheat their way out of schoolwork in order to play.  And as their mom, my job is to help point them to God and remove any stumbling blocks that I have control over.  So I removed their playtime so they could work hard and not worry about it becoming a distraction.  They will get to spend this week working at catching up on their vocabulary. They both knew and agreed that doing so made sense.  They weren't happy but didn't argue as they realized what they did was not in their best interest.  But then I had a problem.

It's really hard to implement discipline in the midst of other people.  For some reason, the enemy showed up today and quickly began speaking lies to me.  And I started to believe them: "You aren't a good mom." "You don't know what you're doing." "You're too hard on them." "Give it up already."  I hadn't felt this self-conscious in a long time.  My embarrassment wasn't that my kids weren't perfect but that someone else thought I wasn't doing what was best.  

..........

Tonight, as I sat down to write, several things came to mind. 

1. Remember, God chose YOU to be the parents your children needed.  And that looks different for everyone.
2. 2 Corinthians 4:16 reminded me that my heart and the hearts of my boys are being renewed daily and that sin does not need to be comfortable for anyone.  
3. I don't care if my kids are at the top of their class, can recite a bunch of dates or facts, or be the best athlete. My prayer and deepest desire is to point them to Christ in order for them to lay down their cross and follow Him.   
4. Forgiveness is not code for "no consequences". 

I want to leave you with this as a reminder when doubts creep in and insecurities surface

Our struggle is not with flesh and blood but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces in this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.  

Ephesians 6:12

Uncomfortable

"Mom, why are you crying?"

"I don't really know.  I'm just tired I guess."

blank stares

"Don't worry, you'll see one day.  Your wife will just burst into tears and there may be no real reason."

Here I am with pizza on my plate, my youngest in my lap, and tears running down my face.  Friday is pizza night but today is Monday and here we are having pizza.  Yes my oven works, I have frozen chicken and ground beef in the freezer, plenty of food to cook but tonight we are having pizza...delivered. 

I think back on the beginning of summer and how I expected it to go.  Excited for the routine, the schedule, and the catch up we would do with school. But why do I do this to myself and my family?  Why do I set us up to fail and why have I not figured out that my plans never work when the Lord isn't involved?  Schedules, meal plans, routines, and clothes hung up in rainbow order.  I love life when it's predictable and easy.  Order equals control and it's a part of my flesh I'm having the most difficult time letting go of.  

I'm learning quickly that God didn't create me to do easy.  He is pruning me to be who He intended me to become.  I'm watching life around me during these long summer days and realize that my hardest day doesn't compare.  I see a little girl whose family dropped her off with strangers at a home depot because they didn't want her anymore.  A mom with a new baby that doesn't have the money to buy formula.  A little boy that won't talk to grown-ups because no one ever talks to him.  A young teenager that rides a train for eight hours to return back to a home where he isn't wanted.  A family stepping up to God's calling when it's hard and painful.  

My day was uncomfortable and helping others can be exhausting and understanding the line between helping others without sacrificing your own family can become blurry.  I'm currently walking that line and setting boundaries is getting harder and harder.  

At dinner, I looked at my boys and asked them how they were feeling about our day and saying yes to helping.  They both looked at me and said "mom, I'm happy to help them"

The desire of my heart is to be eternally focussed and trying to put into perspective what truly matters.  Being comfortable in the here and now is not what my family is called to do.  Dying to self, learning to sacrifice, and love till it hurts is the road that I'm glad the Lord is calling us down.  

We might not have gotten school done, had a lot of free time, or had the most patient attitudes but this summer has been used to grow relationships, love on others, and sacrifice our comfortable lives.  This summer is the summer that I will remember my oldest asking Christ into his heart and learning to love Jesus first.  This summer has been nothing I wanted yet everything I've needed.

"But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."  2 Corinthians 12:9

Tell Me They're Beautiful

I haven't been offended in a really long time and honestly I can't remember the last time I took offense to something.  Being offended is a choice, really.  And one that I feel I'm pretty good about not making.  It wasn't until two recent events that my spirit was stirred up and I wasn't happy with a comment that was made to me, about our family and my boys.
This parenting gig has brought out traits in me that I didn't even know existed.  Feelings being mustered and my spirit being stirred.  I get that our adoption was a choice and that through my choice I was no longer going to be just another face in the crowd, I was choosing to be different.  But guess what, I really hate being different sometimes.  My own self-confidence struggles and my whole life I tried to blend in.  Something I did really well and something that became detrimental to my soul. Sharing my heart, my sin, my passions is difficult for me.  I love to listen, empathize, and be present with others but please don't call me to open up my book, my story.  God is challenging me in that daily, I know that one day He is calling me to share it all.

  

..........

Jeff, my three boys, and I all went to get an oil change in my car.  The boys were looking at the car magazines and I was trying to bring my youngest to sit still for just a few more minutes.  We were finally able to pay and leave when the lady behind the counter loudly asked "are they adopted?!"  I was annoyed, honestly, and just smiled and said yes (I hope I smiled).  She then proceeded with "well, I wasn't sure if they were foster or adopted.  But that's just great.  Good for y'all."  At this point I just grabbed my kids and walked to the car.  Jeff has a sweeter disposition than I and I wasn't feeling it at that moment.  I've had other people ask and I'm thrilled to share but that day I was not up for describing the details of my family.
Let me stop and explain something, her heart and curiosity weren't the problem, really.  It was the question and her approach.  Yes, my boys don't look like us and yes they realize we look different and they HATE it.  I live in a world where I look like 90% of the people I come in contact with on a daily basis so feeling different isn't something I feel daily or understand real clearly.  It wasn't until I moved to Houston and began teaching that I learned what it felt like to look different than my surroundings, yet even then I went home every day and was in the presence of people that shared the same skin color as I.  I had two amazing colleagues that taught on both sides of me that helped bring out my own prejudices, discriminations, and own life experiences that contributed to my own whiteness. Never had I thought being colorblind was racist and never did I think I had any racial tendencies. I thought I saw all people as equal and that I wasn't racist in the least. But I was wrong and those sweet, sweet friends took the time to educate me about white privilege, humility, and their own culture.  Now that I'm a mom to three beautiful boys that turn heads when they call me mom, I'm seeing first hand the ignorance of my own white race.
Don't make my boys feel any different than they already do.  Don't stare at a family because they don't look like the norm.  Look at the mom, tell her that her kids are beautiful and that she's doing a great job.  Leave room for a story to evolve.  Don't let those sweet ears hear or hearts to break just because you are curious. Once again their story was apparent to everyone else and once again they were reminded of the sin and pain that brought them to us. Yes God protected them, and yes God is redeeming them but the pain is and always will be there.  I hope that one day they can embrace their difference and be proud to show off their family.  I pray that God will have a redemption story for them that is beyond all understanding. I wish I could say that the incident was isolated and that my boys will flourish in our small town and that they won't feel the prejudices or be discriminated against but tonight I was reminded of the truth once again.

..........

Tonight at VBS, I dropped all my kids off.  My youngest turns three in about four-ish months and they allowed him to come and be part of the 3yo class.  He went last night and seemed to do well.  As I was getting him all settled in a teacher comes over and has this conversations with me

T: "Does Christopher speak any english?"

Me: "Yes, very well actually.  You just need to talk to him."  

T: "oh ok great.  The teachers in his class were wondering.  He's just really quiet and shy, I guess."

Me: "No he can talk really well.  Just make him respond to you and you can understand him as well as any 4yo"

T: "oh ok, I'm sorry.  We just weren't sure"

Me: (trying to smile) "It's ok, just hold him accountable to whatever you are asking the other kids to do"

Please don't assume that because he's brown he doesn't speak any english.  How many white parents of white kids did you approach and ask that question.  Probably none.  

This feeling of offense is yucky and I know that it's from the enemy but my heart hurts for my boys. This isn't about me.  It's about them and their feeling of separation, their isolation and their desire to look like their mom and dad.  

And don't be a white christian that ministers to minorities and assume that they have a bad home life, do drugs, or will end up in jail.  You're not doing something great by feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, or rescuing the fallen if you think you're above it all.  I promise, non-traditional families, families of a different race, ethnic or cultural group than you are just like you and me.  True love and genuine relationships and guess what, you may find yourself your new best friend.  

Remember, if you're curious and want to know more just tell me they're beautiful and I will probably tell you our beautiful story.  

Do They Remember

A question I get asked often about my two older boys is if they remember their biological parents. And the answer is an absolute YES!  They remember the joys, good times, and their love for their mom.  From the beginning, we have tried to keep an open dialogue about their parents (J-mom and C-dad) and I work really hard at maintaining a positive attitude when they bring them up.  There will be months that they speak of them on a weekly basis and then weeks will go by where their names don't come up at all.

A song, or some food, or maybe it's a commercial on TV that triggers a memory and they want to share.  There are days that Mark has cried over missing J so much and desires to go live with her again and then there are days that they both are scared.  Scared that somehow they will be taken away and that the nightmare that they experienced will never go away.

It's hard to know that their heart will always love J and if I'm honest, the selfish part of me wants them all to myself.  I don't want to share them with her then, now, or ever.  They will have a connection to her that will never go away and there will be a day that they will seek her out again. And I have two choices...I can pretend it's not going to happen and forbid any sort of relationship or I can support and help them in their choice.

In my cabinet are pictures they've drawn for her, letters they've written wrinkled from tears, and in their bedroom are two photo albums filled with pictures from their past.  Pictures J put together and gave to them knowing the outcome.  We sit and flip through the pages staring at sweet chubby babies, funny poses, and tender memories.  Each time they look, their heart grieves and their pain is a reminder of why we all need Jesus.  Sin brought these boys to me but Jesus is restoring their souls and creating a story that will bring honor and glory to Him.

................

Let's back up about 19 months.  Without going into too much detail, the night we were headed to pick up the boys to move in with us, J and C were arrested.  It's truly a heartbreaking story and from the beginning my heart has been broken for their parents.  What brought them in jail is nothing short of what most of us would have done had we been faced with similar circumstances.  I'm not excusing or condoning their behavior but after loving these boys for the past 19 months, I would fight to my death if someone was going to take them from me.  I can understand where they were coming from.

In January, Mark was called to testify against his dad.  There was nothing I could do to get him out of it and it had been 16 months since he had seen him.  I was scared, scared of losing all that we had gained with our boys and scared that I was somehow going to lose his heart.  I walked into the courtroom with Mark that day and was humbled beyond belief.  Here was this man that (from what I was told) had not shown any emotion throughout the entire trial and then broke into tears when he saw his oldest walk through the doors.  I wanted somehow to tell him that his boys were ok, that they were loved and cherished, and that he was forgiven.  I wanted him to know that I loved him because he once loved them and I often pray that one day I will get to tell him.  After it was over, I went into the bathroom and cried like never before.  Sin had entered into this family and destroyed it.  My three precious boys were only allowed into my heart and home because of the work that Satan did; yes, I know God brought them to me but it's because He works all things out for the good of those that know and love Him.  It's not because breaking up this family was part of His divine plan.  The pain that I saw that day is indescribable and as a family we pray that there will be restoration in the relationships with both of them.

Now fast forward to this week.  The boys hadn't asked about J and C lately and I don't usually bring it up on my own but after a song triggered a memory, Jacob asked if their mom was out of jail yet and I told him no and then told him that she was sentenced to seven years. Both of them were speechless. Just yesterday, I found out that their dad was sentenced to 25 years and telling them that was hard. Neither one of them knows or understands and to think that he could be 50 years old when he gets out is hard to comprehend.  But God is working in all of this.

I wake up this morning and Jacob tells me he had a dream.  He said that he dreamed that C had asked God to come into his heart.  I smiled and said "wow, what a dream!! I bet God is working in his heart right now."

Maybe, just maybe God shared that revelation with Jacob and maybe our prayers have been answered and C now knows the Lord.  Pray for the hearts of my boys and the hearts of J and C.  What a beautiful story it will be to see God working in and through each of them.

My boys have a beautiful heart, one that forgives easily, loves others, and is passionate about life.  I am blessed to be called their mom no matter if I was the first or the 11th.  But I will be the last.

 

  

I Will Never...

Twenty years ago I became a parenting expert (yes, I was 12).  I knew then how to do it all, what you were doing wrong and how to fix it.  And I wish I could say that I was joking, I truly believed that I knew how to do this whole parenting gig.  So for almost 20 years, I had it all figured out.  My friends would talk about their parenting challenges, I worked with parents that had children with very challenging behaviors and in every situation I had an answer about what YOU were doing wrong.  I never really voiced my opinions to others unless asked (at least I don't think I did), but I had all my "I'll never do that" tucked away for when I became the perfect mom.  Then I became a mom, instantly, overnight, a mom to three boys.  It literally rocked my world.  For days, weeks, and into months I could not talk about the changes my life took without falling into a million pieces.  I realized for the first time in my life, I had no clue as to what I was doing.

One of my major "I'll never do that" was letting my babies sleep with me.  I went on and on about how I will never give in to letting them sleep with me and I could tell you that your bed was meant for you and your husband, sleep is important for everyone, and that a child will be fine if left to cry it out.  Then my baby cried...  And thus began this new journey.

For the past 19 months, I've gone back and forth about trying to get Christopher to sleep in his bed. We did the crying for 20 minute intervals, sleeping in his room, rocking him, singing, dancing and whatever it took to get him to sleep and stay asleep in his bed.  We were in a pretty good rhythm until I switched him to his twin bed.  I did this just before he turned two and for the first week he did amazing and my pride resurfaced.

"Wonder what people are talking about when they say that their toddler has bedtime issues.  That's just ridiculous!"  

Then all of a sudden, I got it.  Christopher realized he could come into my room on his own and at any time he wanted.  I love my sleep so when he would come in crying, I would just pull him in bed with me and we would snuggle up and drift off peacefully together.  This has been continuing for the past six months.  We tried a pallet on the floor but it didn't work very well.  I would give in.

On Sunday, Jeff told me enough was enough.  He could no longer sleep in our bed and that if we wanted to do a pallet, fine but no more bed.  So begins our new journey of training Christopher to listen, obey, and stay in his room.  We have a mattress on the floor set up so if he comes in the middle of the night, he can sleep there but he is not allowed up in bed with us.  What's great about the entire situation is that Jeff doesn't hear a thing, I get to be awake and help Christopher understand the new program.  It's just awesome...but I want to honor my husband in his needs and wants so I'm trying my best.

Tears are associated with this training and loss of sleep on my end.  It's not a fun process.  This morning I slept until almost 9am because I didn't sleep much last night.  Christopher wasn't in my room, breakfast hadn't been made, and we needed to leave in 15 minutes to make it to bible study on time.  I walk out of my room and see Mark and Jacob working on school, Christopher dressed and chores done.  I asked Mark to help with breakfast as I took a shower.  It was sweet mercies this morning seeing routines that worked, boys that are helpful, and a life that I love.  Every challenge comes with the Lord's grace and today I was granted a sweet gift from each one of my boys.

I am thankful that I am no longer a parenting expert, that I fail daily, and that I am still loved by my family and my Savior.