A grand design for baby teeth....prove me wrong

My family, unfortunately, has been touched by quite a few deaths in the last year.  Some  familial departures hit uncomfortably close to home.  I will own up to the fact that for a bit I was an emotional mess.  This is not something I chose to hide from my children.  B is as oblivious as any two year old but E was a different story.  She is my highly sensitive and ridiculously bright child.  There was no soothing her sympathy tears with, “Mommy will be okay.”  I was hurting and she was hurting and to be blunt together we are still adjusting to a new normal. 

All of that is the long way to say I gave E the same speech I was given as a child about God’s “Big Book” up in the Heavenly skies.  To save your time and my weak computer battery, the basic idea is God keeps a book with every living creature’s name in it.  Beside each of our names in this Big Book of Life is a date.  When that date comes it is your time to leave this world.    Live each day as if its your last, yada, yada, yada.

Let’s now fast forward to the current drama unfolding in my home.  It is not a struggle to accept death but rather my daughter pleading for an end of life.......for her baby teeth.  E is six and a half and everyone of her baby teeth is still firmly planted in her gums.  She really wants to loose a tooth just like everyone else in first grade.  I mean she really wants it.  Daily she swears she feels a wiggle, I double check and have to crush her dream.

This has been going on for weeks and last week I got to the end of my proverbial rope. My grasping for sanity sounded a little something like this:

Me: remember when we talked about God’s Big Book of Life

E: Yes

Me: Well, God even has a plan for your teeth, Ella.  You will lose them when..*interruption*

E: Mom, save it, God does not have a book of teeth.

Me: How do you know that?

E: (roll of her eyes) Please mom.  okay? Please.

She still has not lost a tooth.  She has stopped whining about it.  I am calling this a win.

My Rugged Ol' Friend

The pressures of life are heavy.  The Spirit that must carry us through has no choice but to swell inside our bodies us to keep us afloat.  All the breaks in our hearts, minds and even ego are made whole again by the Spirit.  When we surrender, we gain the strength we need to take that additional step that seemed unthinkable.  When we surrender we lose every bit of self we convince ourselves daily we need.  Losing one’s self is scary even if the result is something greater.

There is a reason the cross is made of wood.  If it was meant to be showy, it would be made of gold to serve as a reminder of the worth of God’s love.  If it was meant to reflect the beauty of God’s creation and love it would be made of mirrors.  You get my drift.  It is not made of impressive or expensive material.  The cross is made of wood and for good reason.  

When life hands me troubling news, stressed moments and hair pulling activities I have only one choice: Nail it to the cross and walk away.  It is then no longer my worry and I have only my future moments to face. 

Wood is sturdy, strong and real.  The cross has withstood the weight of the sins of the world, surely my small worries of this world will not break it.  

I did not come up with this on my own.  One Sunday morning with a heavy heart I wandered into a church.  I yearned to hear a hymn and what I found was the soundtrack of my conscience.  The minister, Dr. Paynter, had just lost a parishioner to a senseless shooting and was trying to come to terms with it all.  It was real, honest and not for show.  His message was clear: it is not for us to understand and that is too hard understand itself.  We have a choice: be bitter or believe.  His advice was “Nail it to the cross and walk away”.  

The words rang true to me.  They still do today.  I am not perfect.  I am not a perfect mother, perfect wife or perfect employee.  Each night in my silent minutes of unraveling, I picture myself nailing my faults to the ol’ wooden cross and it gives me hope for a better tomorrow.  Who knows maybe one day I will trade it in for a crown.  

I Wake Up!

It is never quiet in my house at bedtime.  Ever.  Seriously.  

But once the kids are tucked in, I have some very precious quiet time.  I value silence and gain strength from it in some ways.  In the quiet moments I make peace with my myself, my doubts and demons.  I reflect, accept and then am able to move forward.  Eventually I fall to sleep every night hoping that I will wake up to one of my favorite things ever....  It is a little like Christmas Eve every night.   

 Each morning I awake to hear *thump* followed by swift little footsteps in the hall above me and down the stairs.  Boone is making his descent to greet the day.  Once his footsteps reach the kitchen it is a dead-on, two year old sprint to mommy and daddy’s room.   The minute he steps past the threshold he loosens his smile a bit so he can speak and boastfully announces, “I wake up Mommy, I wake up!  He then jumps on top of me and after a quick hug asks me to turn on Oswald.  The special moment ends and the day begins but what a glorious beginning it was.  It makes my day every day.