My Passion, Part I
Every single day, I am reminded of how blessed I am. I am truly blessed!
I think back to my younger days and I thank God that He has led me to the place I am now. Things could have been so different for me.
(Mom, please don’t read this paragraph. Actually, make that the next two paragraphs, mkay?)
I began having sex at a very young age. Waaaay too young. My mom is probably reading this, even though I told her not to, so I won’t admit to just how young. When I was 18, I started drinking and partying with my friends. When I was 19, I starting smoking pot from time-to-time, depending on which friends I was with and how much I’d had to drink. I was headed down the wrong path and fast. But, God had other plans.
When I was 20 years old, after a weekend of hard partying to make up for the fact that my boyfriend of 5 years was sleeping with someone else, I found out I was pregnant. I was single. I was living at home with my parents and sister. I had been drunk less than 48 hours before. The only positive thing I really had going for me was that I had a good job at a bank and had good insurance.
I had gone to the Health Department for a free pregnancy test. The lady looked at me and said something along the lines of “Congratulations, you’re pregnant. Here’s a bottle of prenatal vitamins. The medicaid office is downstairs – if you sign up, they’ll give you a free carseat. The WIC office is down the hall” and she sent me on my merry way.
I was scared. What was I going to tell my parents? They would be so disappointed! What about the baby’s father? We had broken up and weren’t speaking. What in the world was I going to do?
That night, I sat down and told my mother. She covered her face and asked me what in the world we were going to do. I could tell she wanted to cry. Thankfully, she told my dad for me. Lord knows I didn’t want to do it. Dad took it pretty hard. He couldn’t look me in the eye for a while. They were heartbroken. But, they were there for me.
I don’t know what I would have done without my parents’ support during my pregnancy. Or the support of my friends, family, and co-workers. My child’s father chose to go about his own life, denying the fact that it was HIS child I was pregnant with.
My family bought baby stuff and maternity clothes for me anytime they could. I had lots of hand-me-downs and yard sale stuff, but they were stuff for me and for my baby. They were things that I didn’t have to money to buy on my own. All-in-all, I had three baby showers. I had everything I needed for Big Al.
I tried and tried to get a house for us. I didn’t want to still be living with my parents when he was born. I had tried to get a FHA loan but, even though the only debt I had was a $212 car payment, they said I didn’t make enough money to pay the payment. I tried to get a house built through a local non-profit agency but, with the money I was making and the fact that I couldn’t count my baby as a dependent until after he was born made it difficult to get the funding I needed. Eventually, I ended up getting a government subsidized apartment a month before Big Al was born.
My apartment was nice. It was one of the nicer apartments available, meaning the carpet wasn’t ripped or stained and there weren’t any holes in the walls or anything. There were large, walk-in closets in both of the bedrooms. It was on the ground level from the front, making it easy to carry Big Al in his carseat to the apartment. But it wasn’t all peaches and cream.
The people right beside me smoked so much pot that a huge puff of smoke came out into the breezeway every time they opened their door. The gal across from me had four kids and worked all night at a nightclub to provide for them. They were sweet little kids and I liked for her oldest son to come over to visit. She was trying hard to provide for her family. The man above me made nasty, vulgar remarks to me every time he saw me – even when I was 9 months pregnant. I always suspected the man across the hall from him was abusing his wife. He also gave me the “heebie geebies” with the way he looked at me. I had to find a way to get out of there. I just wasn’t willing to raise my child in that kind of environment.
I went back to the local non-profit agency and was able to get the funding I needed to build a house with a “low-income” loan. The best part was, it was only half a mile from my parents. Since my mom was babysitting Big Al, this was great! They were just right out the road and were always able to help me out. Big Al and I moved into our little 986 square foot home just 11 days before his first birthday.
Three months later, I started dating Hubby. He was working at the bank as well so we both had good jobs. God has continually blessed us over the past eleven years. I have been able to stay home with our children for nearly 9 years now. I recommitted my life to Christ eight and a half years ago. Our family has a nice home and reliable vehicles and good medical insurance. All of our needs have been met. It’s all by the grace of God.
But…..
What if my parents weren’t willing to help me when I told them I was pregnant? What if they had thrown me out of their house? What if I hadn’t had a good job? What if I hadn’t had reliable transportation to the Health Department for the free pregnancy test? By the way, I hear they aren’t free anymore. What if I hadn’t turned from my partying ways because I had a problem with drugs or alcoholism? What if my child’s father had pressured me to have an abortion? What if there was no one to help me get the things I needed for my baby?
Where would I have gone? What would I have done?
Enter the Crisis Pregnancy Center/Pregnancy Resource Center. I’m not talking about a place you can go to get an abortion or the morning after pill, either. I’m talking about a non-judgmental, loving, Christian environment where young women can go for help, support, and advice when they think they may be pregnant.
To be continued…..
I Refuse
Long time, no blog. Sorry about that. I’ve been a bit busy lately. Things are starting to calm down around here so hopefully I’ll be blogging more often. In the meantime, here’s something really on my heart today.
My Sunday School class has been doing a study by Max Lucado called “Out Live Your Life“. God is really using this study to work on my heart. I’ve always thought I was a caring person. But I’ve not been caring for others as Christ commands me to. He has forced me to look deep into my heart and ask some really difficult questions.
John 13:34-35 says “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
Am I showing that kind of love to others? Only some. And, if I’m really honest with myself, “some” is really a small number. It’s easy to show love to those you know. Family, friends, other Christians. What about strangers? What about the lost? What about the homeless person on the street? What about the hungry? What about the young woman who is pregnant and alone? The list goes on.
I pray for those who are brought to my attention. I pray for my family, friends, and every prayer request that comes my way on Facebook. I pray for those who are hurting as a whole. But is prayer enough? I don’t think so. The song “I Refuse” by Josh Wilson has really convicted me.
Here are the lyrics:
Sometimes I, I just want to close my eyes
And act like everyone’s alright
When I know they’re not.
This world needs God, but it’s easier to stand and watch.
I could pray a prayer and just move on
Like nothing’s wrong.
But I refuse.
‘Cause I don’t want to live like I don’t care.
I don’t want to say another empty prayer.
Oh, I refuse to sit around and wait for someone else
To do what God has called me to do myself.
I could choose not to move
But I refuse.
I can hear the least of these crying out so desperately,
And I know we are the hands and feet of You, oh God.
So, if you say move, then it’s time for me to follow through
And do what I was made to do.
Show them who you are.
‘Cause I don’t want to live like I don’t care.
I don’t want to say another empty prayer.
Oh, I refuse to sit around and wait for someone else
To do what God has called me to do myself.
Oh, I could choose not to move
But I refuse.
To stand and watch the weary and lost cry out for help.
I refuse to turn my back and try and act like all is well.
I refuse to stay unchanged, to wait another day to die to myself.
I refuse to make one more excuse.
‘Cause I don’t want to live like I don’t care.
I don’t want to say another empty prayer.
Oh, I refuse to sit around and wait for someone else
To do what God has called me to do myself.
Oh, I could choose not to move but I refuse.
And that’s where I am right now. I refuse.
I have been praying fervently for God to speak to our class and to speak to me as an individual. I want to fully serve Him. I want to truly love others as He has loved me. I can already see His leading in my life and in the lives of my classmates. I know He has great things in store for us.
Go out today and show some love. You never know what a huge impact the smallest gesture may have on someone else’s life.
In His Service,
It’s Official…
I will be homeschooling the boys again this year.
The Intent to Homeschool form has been sent to the county’s Board of Education.
On payday, I’ll be purchasing my curriculum from Sonlight (it’s all saved in a shopping cart right now).
The boys aren’t too upset. Smarty is excited because I’ve decided to throw in some electives, which I didn’t do last year. They will be taking an art course and a typing course. Big Al really wanted to go to public school for middle school but he understands why I’m not comfortable sending him to public school in this county.
I’m confident that this year will be better than last year. We all know what to expect this year. And, Beanie is older and (hopefully) calmer this year.
I think it’s going to go well….or at least be tolerable ;o)
Do You Homeschool?
If you do, you might be interested in signing up for Pizza Hut’s Book It! program. It is available for homeschool students. I signed up last year and my boys loved it! They are currently enrolling for the 2010-2011 school year and it’s first come, first serve for homeschools. Head on over here and sign up if you haven’t already!
Also, Subway has a program called Random Acts of Fitness and they are giving teachers a “fitness kit” for their classroom. This is also available to those who homeschool! So, head on over here and and get signed up. Big Al will especially love this one because he’s totally into fitness and I’m hoping it will help Smarty with his Fitness achievement for scouts.
Enjoy!
24 Years Ago
Twenty-four years ago today, I had an appointment for a strep culture. I was one of those kids who “carried” strep throat. I never had symptoms but I ended up giving it to every kid I came in contact with. So, I went to the doctor to be tested from time to time.
Before going to the doctor, however, we decided we wanted to go to the swimming pool. But, we needed to go to my grandmother’s house first, for some reason.
My mom was babysitting that day. She and I were dressed alike, wearing khaki shorts and pink shirts. Mom’s shirt was from her only trip to the beach, the year before. I don’t remember where mine was from.
We all hopped in our little white Pontiac to head over to Nanny’s. Mom was driving and I was in the front seat. Kim was in between Sam and Summer, our very good friends whom Mom babysat from the time Sam started school. Sam and Summer always buckled up — their mom insisted on it. We didn’t. It was 1986, things were different back then.
We were traveling along what we call “River Road”. It’s a narrow, winding road that runs by the river on the way to my grandmother’s house as well as many other relatives. Just after we crossed the tiny one-lane bridge, another car ran us off the road. I’m not sure what happened. I think Mom swerved out of the ditch to keep from hitting a mail box and we skidded across the road and hit a tree head-on. The tree kept us from going down an embankment and into the river.
I don’t remember the actual impact.
I remember all of us screaming, seemingly in unison.
My mom was bleeding.
I tried to open the door but it was jammed. Later, we found that the impact had caused the back door to overlap the front door keeping it from opening. I looked back to see Sam’s window rolled down and, without thinking, I climbed over the seat and onto his lap and out his window. I don’t really remember thinking about it or why I did it but I do remember that straddling his window was uncomfortable.
Thankfully, by the time I was out the window, other people were there. I don’t even know who they were now. Seems like my parents knew them. They lived down the road and they had heard the crash so they came to check out what happened.
There were a couple of ambulances.
They got my mom out of the car and strapped her down. They put her in one ambulance. Sam was in the other. He had internal injuries (bruising, I think). Summer’s arm was broken. Kim, my sister, had a scratch on her shin. She also peed in her pants. I had a bad cut on my elbow from hitting the radio as I brought my arm up in defense and my jaw was really bruised from hitting the dash.
I remember my mom being strapped down and giving numbers to try to reach my dad at the farm. Back then, there were no cell phones so if he wasn’t in the office (and he rarely was) then there was no telling where you might find him. I think my great-aunt ended up finding him.
Kim and I rode in the ambulance with mom. I remember being so scared and thinking she was going to die.
Mom had cuts all over her face from hitting the windshield. The windshield had an imprint of her face in it. She had to have stitches around her eye area and her lip. She picked glass out of her face a tongue forever, it seemed. She had broken ribs and collapsed lung (or lungs, I can’t remember) from hitting the steering wheel. She was sore for weeks. Her sense of smell and taste are still messed up.
I had to have stitches in my elbow. I screamed. I cried. I kicked and tried to get away. Lots of people held me down.
My aunt picked us up from the hospital so dad could stay with Mom. We spent several days at my Nanny’s while Mom was in the hospital. I drank lots of soup because I couldn’t move my jaw. Dad came to visit us, in between visits with Mom.
My uncle let dad drive his Jeep until we could get another car. The Pontiac was totaled.
The other driver did stop when we crashed. She had two teenage sons. They all said she did not run us off the road. It was our word against theirs. Sam was 9, I was 8, Summer was 7, and Kim had just turned 5 the day before. They believed the teenagers. No charges were filed against the other driver.
I am so thankful that God spared us all that day, 24 years ago. I am so thankful that tree was there to stop us from going in the river. I am so thankful that, despite the fact that we weren’t buckled up, our injuries were not fatal. It could have been so different.
I never get in my car that I don’t instinctively buckle up. I haven’t ridden in a car without buckling my seat belt one single time since that day. None of us have.
Tall Tales
Lately, Bean has started telling “tall tales”. Fibs. Lies.
I’m guessing it has something to do with her age. Two year olds do weird stuff, man!
You’d think she’s my first child or something, though, because I honestly don’t know how to handle it. I’ve tried ignoring it. I thought maybe if she didn’t get some kind of reaction then she wouldn’t do it anymore. Didn’t work. I’ve tried telling her that what she’s saying isn’t true and it’s not nice to say things that aren’t true. I’ve tried to explain that she could hurt someone’s feelings by saying untrue things about them. I don’t know if she doesn’t “get” it, or if she doesn’t care. I think she doesn’t really get it. I’ve tried punishing her and putting her in time-out when she fibs about something her brothers did/didn’t do to her. Doesn’t stop her.
What do I do? I’m at a loss. I hope it’s just a phase and will pass soon.
Here are some examples of her fibs…..
- While walking in the park, she almost stepped in goose poop so Smarty nudged her over on the trail and politely told her to watch her step so she didn’t get something yucky on her sandals. I watched him do it and he was being kind and sweet to his sister. Bean’s response? ”He just punched me in the stomach!” He didn’t even touch her stomach! He barely touched her elbow. I told her that what she said wasn’t true but she insisted that it was. I made her apologize to Smarty and made her hold my hand for the rest of our walk to the car.
- The other day, we had spent the day hanging around the house. The only time I left the house was to walk to the mail box. When Hubby came home, he was talking to Bean and asking her about her day.
Hubby – “What did you do today?”
Bean – “We went to the swimming pool!”
Hubby (to me) – ”Did you guys go to the pool today?”
Me – ”No”
Bean – “Well, we did go to the park”
Hubby – ”How fun!”
Me – “We didn’t go to the park.”
Bean – ”We went to the grocery store too.”
Me – “We didn’t leave the house today!”
Bean – “Yes we did.”
- A few nights ago, Hubby, Beanie, and I were laying on our bed talking. Bean says, “We are going to move to a new house.” Hubby agrees with her that, yes, we are going to move to a new house if and when this house ever sells. She says, “No me and mommy are moving to a new house without you.” Hubby looks at me all confused and says “What’s she talking about?” Poor guy, I had to reassure him that I wasn’t planning on leaving him.
It didn’t help matters that the next night, when Hubby was asking Bean about her day she said “We went to see Granny & Pappy today.” My parents live over and hour away and we hadn’t gone to see them. Again, I let Hubby know she wasn’t telling the truth. She says “Me and mommy are going to go live with Granny & Pappy.” Again, not true and I told Hubby so. He played along with her and asked “Just you and Mommy? What about me?” She says, very bluntly, “No, we are moving with Granny & Pappy and you have to stay here by yourself.” So now poor Hubby thinks I’m planning to leave him.
I seriously don’t know where she comes up with this stuff!
Please tell me this is just a phase and she will outgrow it soon!
Never Say Never
*Takes a deep breath*
I think I’m going to homeschool again next year.
I think.
I know I had issues with it last year but I’m pretty sure I’m ready to give it one more try. I think that now we know what to expect and it will be easier for us to get settled back into it. Smarty even asked if we could do it one more year.
The house hasn’t sold and there’s NO WAY POSSIBLE that I will put my kids back in the public school in this county. There have been too many major news stories (bad ones) come out of the middle and high school here for me to even consider allowing them to care for my children 7 hours a day. Not gonna happen.
I dragged out my trusty Sonlight catalog the other night and made a list of all the things I need to order for another year at home. Then I went on their website and saved everything in my shopping cart. All I have to do now is proceed to checkout.
I’m going to give it a couple more weeks to see if the house has any nibbles. If not, I’ll get my stuff ordered and send in my Intent to Homeschool form.
Wish me luck!
Wild Child
When Big Al was little, he was WILD! He was (and still is) a ball of energy. He wasn’t a “bad” kid, just very energetic. He just never stopped! And he was fearless. At three years old, he begged us to put him on top of the house so he could jump off. He thought he could fly if the wind blew his Superman cape, which he wore every single day. He had no fear of getting hurt. He’s still like that, for the most part.
When Smarty was little, he was calm. He would sit and look at books or play quietly by himself. Don’t get me wrong, he still got into trouble. For instance, he was a climber. He would climb on top on the counter to get on top of the microwave so he could reach the chocolate cake I had hidden on top of the fridge. Or he would climb the shelves in the pantry like a ladder to get to the cookies on the highest shelf. Smarty loves junkfood, just like his mommy.
I was so sure that my little girl would be different. Girls are supposed to be different than boys, right? I thought she would be a quiet child and would want to play dress up and have tea parties every day. I never dreamed that she would be a fearless ball of energy who likes to climb and sneak out of the house!
I can’t keep this girl contained! I don’t feel like I can take my eyes off of her for one minute. Seriously. She’s into everything. And she’s fearless.
She’s going to be the death of me, I tell ya!
She can unlock every door in this house, including the dead bolts and the screen door latches on the covered porch. So, I can’t keep her inside. Our yard is not fenced and people drive like maniacs down our street. I’m hoping that some of those plastic doorknob covers will help with this problem.
She can climb over both baby gates that we own. If she doesn’t feel like climbing it, she somehow manages to knock it down. So, I can’t keep her in any room or particular area of the house.
She does things like jump off of the couch without holding on to anything and comes within inches of busting her face on the coffee table. She also likes to stand on the back of the couch and free-fall onto the cushions. She also likes to stand on the coffee table. So, I can’t leave her in the den or the formal living room alone, for fear of a trip to the ER.
She climbs on everything – the chairs from her little table set, the step-stool in the bathroom, her baby doll stroller, her airplane ride-on toy, any container or box, kitchen chair, stackable blocks – you name it, she will use it to climb up on something else!
She has no fear of falling or getting hurt. When she does fall and get hurt, it does not stop her from doing it again.
She is my “Wild Child”. I’m not sure I’m going to survive the 2’s, much less the teenage years if she doesn’t outgrow this stuff soon!
If she doesn’t, I hope they will let me have visitors in my padded room.
Daddy’s Girl
I have so many pictures like this:
Little Bean, holding her Daddy’s hand.
Or riding on his shoulders.
Or exploring with Daddy.
It makes my heart so happy to watch them.
Hubby is such a great father. When I was pregnant with Bean, though, I couldn’t help but wonder how he would be with a little girl. He has always been so “rough & tumble” with the boys, always pushing them to do their best and to be strong boys. Would he be so rough on our little girl? He said he would. He said he would hold her to the same standard that he’s always held the boys to. He said she wouldn’t end up being a “spoiled little princess”.
But, she melts his heart. You can see it in his eyes when she’s around. You can see it in the goofy grin he gets when he’s talking to her. He reportedly told his mother that “it’s just different with little girls”.
Don’t get me wrong. He makes her behave. But there’s something special about their relationship. She’s Daddy’s girl.
Wednesday nights are Daddy/Beanie nights. While the boys and I are at church, they eat macaroni & cheese, go to the park to play, get ice cream, call Nana, and then he gives her a bath and gets her ready for bed.
She looks forward to it, too!
At naptime I tell her that it’s Wednesday and she says “When I wake up, I’m going to have fun with Daddy! We’re gonna eat macaroni & cheese and go to the park and get ice cream and call Nana and take a bath!” She knows that’s her special time with Daddy.
God has truly blessed me with a wonderful man. I couldn’t have chosen a better father for my children, especially Daddy’s girl.
These Days Are Fleeting
Big Al is always dressing up as something. He surprises me when he walks out of his room each day. I never know if I’m going to be the mother of a spy, “army man”, baseball player, football player, pirate…..the list goes on. Seriously, the boy rarely wears “normal” clothes – he’s always dressed as some kind of character!
Yesterday, he was a pirate.
He went out on the back deck to play, using the deck as his ship. We had a discussion last week about how the deck is not a pirate ship – especially when little boys tape their pirate flags to the guttering with packing tape. I generally don’t like for them to play on the deck because they always mess up my furniture and climb on the banisters. Really, I just don’t want the mess that they usually make.
I started out the door to fuss at him and to remind him that the deck isn’t a pirate ship. But, on my way out the door, I realized that Big Al is nearly half-way to his 12th birthday. Pretty soon, he isn’t going to be interested in dressing up as some character and playing with his brother on the back deck. I know the day will come when it isn’t “cool” to play dress up. And I know that day isn’t too far down the road for us. My little guy is growing up fast.
So, instead of telling him to get off the deck, I just reminded him that he’s not allowed to tape stuff to the gutters. Because these days are fleeting. And I want to enjoy them as much as he does.
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