Monday.

Hello my friends. It's almost been a month.
I'm still learning the meaning of WE CAN DO HARD THINGS, my current favorite saying. It's echoing in my head with each problem that pops up..
This morning I had to laugh (in my head) because I drove to work singing
1) Pippi Longstocking theme song
2) Oats and Beans and Barley Grow (trust me, you don't want this in your head)
3) Baby Beluga
4) Call Me Maybe (COMPLETE with dramatic hand motions.. "Where ya think ya goin' baybay!)

All upon A's request.
I then successfully dropped A off at her babysitter's. I'm ashamed to say that when I saw the beginnings of tears, I pondered aloud on the possibility of her getting a snack and watching Pippi Longstocking at her babysitter's (unheard of) in order to prevent the fountain. (she hasn't seen this babysitter in a few weeks, and she is unfamiliar with their house).
Whilst driving to work, this amazing hip-hoppy Christian song came on complete with rapping, and I was so enthralled of the truth in the song that I started tearing up while simultaneously thinking that some people would probably make fun of it. Too bad. It's amazing.
So then I got to work and gave a informative speech on emergency contraception and the abortion pill to my two victims, faithful coworkers Charlene and Jeannie who are both moms and very supportive and encouraging and listened to me talk for ELEVEN WHOLE MINUTES (the speech was supposed to be 5-7 minutes).
Anyways,

I'm
     Thankful.

Because earlier this week after a really hard day I called Lucy sobbing that I really didn't like A right now, and she told me that it was.... NORMAL. She even gave me examples of normal women who had a normal problem of occasionally normally, not liking their normal child.
Because for the first time I am living from paycheck to paycheck and it's really not that bad because I have everything I need and ten times more support than most people do.
Because it cannot ever be overstated that God still loves you through your (REPETITIVE) mistakes, and He is always, always willing to give you opportunities to learn and grow and have more faith that you did last week.
Because I worked hard for my 85% on my History midterm exam and I am darn proud of it!
Because I gave that speech, and I made it through the hard spots!
Because my boss payed for my awesome haircut! (see below)
Because one hard, tired, yucky day at a time I am proving that single moms CAN do school and work!

In Christ Alone!

The Facing the Music Clique Just Got Real

I'm an extrovert.
There are a hundred things I would like to do. There are a hundred dreams. The last thing on my list is to be real. The last thing on my list is to sit down and have a heart to heart with God.

We CAN Do Hard Things

I zoned off after a long day of work, helping clients and entering data and making too much coffee.

My mind jumps from Ellis Island immigrants hoping to inherit the promise to dirty diapers to my dirty car to planning staff birthdays at work to Avalon's friend's birthday party to finding a babysitter to my big assignment due to volunteering to being able to pay the bills next week to finding winter boots for Avalon to spending enough time on schoolwork to not sleeping at night to....

I looked over my events on Facebook and found another invitation to a Halloween party, and tears threatened to overflow as I thought about all the things I need to do this weekend. 

On top of it all, school.. although I love it, it threatens to dominate my life and has been the cause for my stress levels climbing higher and higher up the mountain of papers and facts and textbooks! 

The thought of climbing (or squeezing) into a Halloween costume and making merry is terrifying and seems ridiculous to me when faced with the rest of my week. At the same time I really want to, I mean, AM DYING TO/LONG TO, have fun and forget about my life for awhile, and have a real, meaningful conversation that is not cut short by demands for milk and "Hold me!"

The theme of my week has been casting my cares on God, a concept which I have been ignoring until today. Today, I fully felt the weight (again) of what it means to NOT do this (I felt like one of those huge, buzzing Idaho beetles that no one knows the name of, squashed under a bowling ball). 

I can't be all these characteristics-- a good mom, a good student, a good employee, a good daughter, a good sister, a good friend, a good volunteer, a good..person, and on top of that, be in shape,  be self controlled, look fabulous, and use my time wisely... 

It is a crushing burden that I don't know how to bear. I am juggling things that are very important to me, but sooner or later I continue drop the ball in certain areas.

Along with my other assignments, I've also been pursuing a major in Facebook, and I think that has caused more damage than I even know. Comparison is the thief of joy. Using all my mental energy on conversations and comments and likes and videos and friends, who simply cannot go beyond the virtual screen, is so unhelpful. Can we get together in real life now? 

With every Christian blog post, there should be some "sound Biblical references", right? Well, too bad. Go look in your Bible! That's where I need to be now.

And then back to the books, and then I will stay up too late and fall asleep hard, and I will probably wake up with A poking me in the back with her feet and saying, "GET UP NOW MOM". And that will be okay. 

Because I am small, and God is big, but He does care about the little things, and He will give me the rest I need in unexpected ways.

The H Word

One of the most unhelpful things that has been said to me repeatedly, by beautiful, loved and well-meaning friends..and acquaintances..and strangers, is this:

I don't know how you do it. I've been praying for a husband for you.

In addition to:
When I met my husband, I wasn't looking. It just happened.
Have you met anyone recently?
Are you interested in anyone?

I know these dear people can not possibly know the discouragement these questions bring to me. I do not want to rebuke them or hurt their feelings by telling them not to say it, either. I appreciate their thoughts and prayers and kindness so very much, but I need to write something.

Please do not pray for a husband for me.

I know, I sound crazy. Who does not want to be prayed for? Me. I have spent a large chunk of my teenage and young adult years longing to find someone to fill the void in me. I have been absolutely off-target for all of these years. I have crossed boundaries to feel loved and valued, and experienced devastating consequences from my own pursuits. Even as a mom of a newborn, I have looked around every corner for my "future husband" (a familiar phrase in my vocabulary).
 I have also grown up thinking that, as a woman, it is the most important thing for me to get married and serve my husband. It is not. Actually, the most important thing is to experience intimacy, perfect friendship, and immeasurable love in a relationship with God. The rest can follow, if He writes that in my story.

I would much rather you pray that I surrender myself to be totally dependent on God and experience true fulfillment in my soul, body, and heart.
(And nope, I will not be wearing one of those "I'm dating Jesus!" T-shirts).

Another struggle after hearing these words has been an ongoing feeling of guilt for my daughter's missing father. I cannot give her that. But I have to laugh at myself here: Seriously? A has entire verses in the Bible dedicated to her (see Ps. 82:3, 64:5, Jer. 45:11, Deut. 10:18, and many more). My brother, grandpa, and dad are obsessed with her and regularly hug her, hold her, and give her words of affirmation and quality time. A has several other fatherly guys at church who go out of their way to pay attention to her. And, for the heck of it, I guess I will mention that her biological father has been served court papers and could easily pursue rights to see her at any time, but he has not. That is also up to God... not me. When people say to me, "We are just praying for a husband for you", they do not know how vulnerable I am in this area. I relapse into thinking that what I am is not enough, that I am incomplete. It makes me feel like my problems can be condensed down into the simple solution of getting married. 

In the last year I have recently come to the joyful discovery and relief of understanding that I do not need to be married until God specifically puts a guy directly in my path, preferably wearing a blinking sign that says,"I am The One". I am experiencing contentment, joy, and peace while being a single woman and a single parent like I never have before (you can ask me if I am still feeling this next week, and give me a smack if I am a little low again). I do not know why it took this long to have this perspective, but I am so thankful.
The only reason I want to be married right now is for the sake of convenience- which is not a bad thing. I would love to have the choice to stay at home with A more often, have some financial support,  and be loved and wanted and desirable to someone. Right now, I do not have any sacrificial thoughts or selfless dreams of assisting my future husband; it's all about me and A. I am just trying to get through school, work, relationships, and parenting. If I married now for these reasons, all I would be doing is taking from my husband. There would be high expectations of his giving, without getting anything back from me.

When I am going through daily difficult things, I think about my future husband (the big F.H., I'll call him), and pray that he is also discovering things about God and about himself. I pray that F.H. is standing strong against temptations. I pray when he hits rock bottom that he will receive strength and hope like I always have! I pray that God would shape me into the woman that this man needs, and vice versa. I do not pray that I will meet him tomorrow.

God has already picked him out. He already knows the date we will meet, our wedding songs, the names of our grandkids, our many rough days, and our good days, too.

And the answer to the question, have you met someone?
No, I have not. In fact, I have never, in a single moment of my life, known what it was like to be fully loved by someone. No one has ever committed to me, just me, nor have I treated them the way I should treat a brother. Oh, and this is not how I ever thought it would be, but I've basically been a kind of reluctant nun as of two and a half years ago. Looking behind me, I am confident that the best is yet to come. 

There you have it.

                     “I’d rather have the right God than the wrong man.” – Christen Rapske

~Kallie

"Deah Dod..."

This morning was tough.
She did not cooperate in any way, shape, or form. I will spare you the details, but to get in the car without yelling at her was a giant task for me.
The problem: a tired, flustered mom and a tired, teething toddler..
A toddler who is maybe wishing she didn't have to be with someone else all day while Mom works..
A mom feeling beyond frustrated that every morning's struggle seems less-than resolved as I leave her in a hurry, smeared in yogurt because she had to hold the spoon herself, and drive away..
At work I change to a different role.. but at five o'clock it's time to change back in to the Mom role and be patient, loving, and energized again.
Today my coworker Olivia had the best thought about this.
Although it is hard, hard, hard to leave her for work, the moments I do have with her are the sweetest,  not taken for granted, and maybe more special than they would be for moms who are with their children every day.
Tonight, before I put her in her crib, we were lying in bed singing together for ten minutes. We sang the "Hallelujah" song (Think Shrek) dramatically together with much giggling.
I sang a hymn which she repeated in a toddler language that is pretty magical to a mother, but most people can't understand.
I prayed and this was my little echo:
"Dear God"
"Deah Dod."

"Thank you for Mama"
"Tank tu fo Mama"

"Thank you for Avalon"
"Tank tu fo Awon"

"In Jesus Name, Amen."
"Aaaamen!"


I'm thankful.

The Strawberry Showdown

It was precisely eight o'clock this morning when A and me sat down to a fine breakfast of french toast with a dollop of creamy vanilla Greek yogurt and sliced strawberries, smothered in syrup. 

An alarmingly short amount of time passed before the french toast on A's plate was mostly gone, and she was starting to do that annoying, itchy-scratchy thing. She was sprawling off her booster and acting like there were ants in her pants. If she could talk well, she would be saying, "Mom, I've been holding still for five seconds, so I need to get down immediately. Then I can rub syrup on your shirt, the couch, and in my hair, while simultaneously demanding mulchie (milk) to be given to me now and pulling out every Kleenex in the box that you thought was out of reach and then throwing every book that I can see on the floor because the shelf looks too organized."

On this morn, I was struck by an urgent thought: my child is going to ignore those forlorn little strawberry slices that I have strategically syrupped and placed in the middle of her plate.

I uttered the following words, "A, you. can. not. leave. the. table. until. you. have. one. bite."

This has never been said before, because eating has not been a problem, and OKAY, PERHAPS I HAVE NOT ALWAYS BEEN THE MOST DILIGENT ABOUT THE CONSUMPTION OF FRUITS AND VEGETABLES. 

The toddler in question laughed and giggled and whined and fussed and made more requests to be "All! Done! MAMA!"

I persisted with multiple phrasings and re-wordings of the original "one bite" statement. 

She persisted.

"Okay, A I'm going in the kitchen. Let me know when you're ready to get down after. your. one. bite."

Reinforcements were not called in.

Reinforcement Officer Lucy is able to receive telepathic waves, even when they are subconsciously sent.

Officer Lucy appears from the living room and states, "I'm just going to 'talk' to her."

Fast forward through half an hour of lively conversation between A and Officer Lucy, which I will not record here, but throughout which I was hiding in the kitchen giggling. One poor strawberry slice remained on a fork on the table in front of A.

Let the plan, "This Is My Last Resort," commence!

"A, I'm going outside to play. I wish you could go with me, but you aren't obeying me. Let me know when you would like to come outside."

I sat outside, roasting in the sun in my pajamas, in full view of covetous toddler. She adores the wonderful world of the toy-strewn porch. 

Meanwhile, Officer Lucy continued her friendly chatter with intervals of coaxing.

Something's happened! I heard the cheering of Lucy and followed by a cackle from A. I ran inside.

The strawberry was gone! 

I yelled for joy and clapped my hands.

Alas, and alack, the slice immediately fell from her open, dainty, rosebud mouth onto the floor.

The girl has unbelievable powers of stubbornness!

I swiftly picked it up and placed it back on the table. 

Two minutes later, it's gone. Swallowed. Never to be seen again.

It was one of the most rewarding fifty four minutes of my life. 

To A:

Bring. It. 

I'm ready for you. 

Because I love you. 

Not The Opposite Of Me

As I look out from my narrow, single-mom perspective, I see the things I am missing. I don't always talk about them, and sometimes I think "nice" thoughts in my head, like, "Oh, I wish my child could have a dad, but I'm so happy for that little girl getting a giant hug from hers. God is our Provider." Sometimes, I think bad thoughts such as, "This married person who is attempting to relate to me doesn't even know what it's like to be me. How dare she even try. She gets rest and breaks and dates with her husband and lots of love. She never has to tear herself away from her screaming child so she can provide for her. "
I'm so sorry for those thoughts, and I'm thankful God already knows that I'm going to think them. I try not to anymore.
The truth is...I don't know what it's like to be her. I don't know what it's like to have marital problems for years. I don't know what the stinging disappointment feels like to the wife who has taken negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test. I don't know what it's like to feel just like a single mom as you wait for your husband to get home from working late night after night. I don't know what it's like to be home with kids, all day, every day, or to be made fun of for being pregnant with your sixth child. I don't know what it's like to try really hard on dinner every night and never be thanked. I don't know what it's like to be under appreciated by your husband or experience post-partum depression. I don't know what it's like to have health issues or lose a close family member while being a new mom.
The truth is... we are so similar. We both have no idea what each other faces every day. We are both helpless and weak and dependent on Christ for our strength.
Yes, I'm alone. I make all the big, giant, scary decisions. By raising my daughter alone, I am doing an unnatural thing that I never intended to do, but it is nothing more than a natural consequence.. not a punishment or a sentence that I have to carry out.
I play a little game with God sometimes, and I ask Him to be the dad in certain moments. I haven't had a time yet where He hasn't helped me. Sometimes she takes four hours naps. Sometimes a little idea pops into my head which helps me understand what could be wrong with her (today, I bought prune puree for my daughter's fussy self. Let me tell ya, it WORKS!) And sometimes, the way He helps me is by giving me no relief in the moment but to know His presence is there. I just tough it out, with tears in my eyes and a torrent of prayers- that my baby would go to sleep, that she would stop crying, that she would be okay, that she would feel better, that she would be safe, that she wouldn't be psychologically damaged because I can't be with her every moment, that she would eat, that she would be healthy, that she wouldn't be overcome by a sudden awareness that she doesn't have a dad (Yep, it can get pretty ridiculous).
The truth is, she-- married, seemingly happy housewife-- will never know what it feels like. I'll stare at your Facebook photos, and you'll stare at mine. None of us will ever know what it's like to be in each other's bodies, and that's just the way God intended.
So, dear friend, I love you. You're doing a great job.