In sickness and in health.....

It's been a tough month for me. I have not been well. I have been well enough, to you know, keep doing all the mom things and wife things and work things, but sick enough to feel misreable while doing them. At first I thought I had a virus, but then it kept going. Then I went to the doctor and we thought it might be something really difficult and overwhelming. But so far none of those possibilities have played out. So we're still in the middle of trying to figure out what exactly is interfering with my normal good health, health I will add that I have take for granted, but will not anymore. But in the midst of all this "not knowing what's wrong" misery, there has been some sweetness and humor and a chance to see God's goodness to me.

My favorite thing has been the support, concern and love that I have experienced over the past two weeks as I have let people know to be praying. So many precious texts of encouragement, facebook messages with scripture I needed to hear, hugs and "check in's"......I realize how beautiful community is! It has been a blessing to see that not only do I have a very supportive physical family, I have my City Church and Branches family too. So if you are part of those groups, thank you for praying and loving me- it has blessed me so much!

Another sweet thing has been how my kids have been so concerned about their mama. You know, of course, your kids love you. But seeing their reactions to me not being well has let me know they have a genuine concern for me, which you don't always get a chance to see when you're operating normally.

The funniest moment was three nights ago. I woke up in the most misery I have ever felt. Ever. Every bone in my face hurt, my cheek was swollen from a hideous canker sore, I could not breath at all, my mouth was like a bowl of cotton, I was coughing, there was a random pain in my chest every time I coughed- you get the picture. It was not good. Oh, and the arm they had drawn blood from the day before was weirdly numb and kind of just hanging to my side. So at 2am I came staggering into the living room and my husband (who is sometimes up that late writing) looked up at me and tried hard not to laugh because he knew I really felt awful, but had a hard time holding it in.  (He told me later I looked like a zombie from The Walking Dead. I know it was true becaue I had caught a glimps of myself in the mirror on the way out of the bedroom and even in my state of misery I thought "whoa. that look needs some help." but didn't care enough to do anything about it.)  He shuffled me back to bed and brought  me some water, some medicine and the best thing EVER if you find yourself in that state of misery- Vicks Vapor Rub. I had forgotten about that stuff, and normally don't even get sick enough to consider it, but sweet nectar of life, it was heavenly. He slathered my face and neck and chest down with it, tucked me in and got in bed himself.  As we lay there and he began the breathing that lets me know he's fallen asleep, I thought, "this is the beautiful part of marriage. I have quite possibly never looked or felt this awful. I'm about as much fun as root canal to be around. I have no ability to even care about his needs right now. Yet I am absolutely certain he loves me all the same."

my night stand while sick- never have I been so thankful for Vapor Rub!

Titus Two 4 U - Learning to Follow

I did not grow up in an era where couples dancing involved memorizing steps and patterns. Our dances did not have names. I always thought the formal dances such as the waltz, or foxtrot, seemed more romantic than the slow-dancing we did in my high school gym, basically consisting of hugging while swaying and occasionally shuffling feet. And do not get me started on dirty dancing, which, while being a romantic and entertaining movie ("Nobody puts Baby in a corner!") was really just "messing around" set to music. No, there was a generation before me that made dancing look fun, and beautiful and seamless.

I think one inclination we lost in both dancing and life was the willingness for a woman to follow a man's lead. About two months ago I was getting really excited about a wonderful ministry in my city. It is a prison ministry for women, with the goal of helping them to transition into life outside jail in a healthy and godly way. It's basically about helping them encounter God through lots of his people reaching out and teaching and serving. Love, love, love it! And, as all good extroverted, excitable types like me do, I called the founder of the ministry to chat about how I could help connect others to them, and how I could be involved myself. The wonderful woman who began the ministry graciously took an hour and poured her heart out about her passion for what God has called her to do. It was inspirational, in a real non-cheesy way. So I left thinking about what role I was going to take, called my husband to tell him of my excitement when he promptly burst my bubble. 

"Um I don't think this is a good time for you to get involved so heavily. You have a lot on your plate and you are tired all the time. I usually support your ideas, but I just don't feel good about this." 

Total joy kill . And I was hurt and annoyed and starting down the path of self-righteousness, when God reminded me I was to follow this man's lead. It was kind of a quiet reminder- a thought that perhaps my repsonse wa not reflecting a wife with a submissive or willing spirit. More joy kill. Not only do I NOT get to be all excited about my fun new ministry opportunity, I don't even get to be mad at my husband for pouring water all over it. (I may or may not have mentioned something along those lines via text before sensing the nudge of God to simmer down and listen to my husband. Sigh- I'm working on not firing off snarky texts anymore.)

So, I will admit this was begrudging, but I decided to email the founder and let her know I'd need to wait for a time to get involved. Fast forward two months. Low and behold my entire body begins to lose a grip on health. I'm noticing fatigue getting higher, starting to run a pretty consistent fever and feeling generally bad. At the same time, Little Miss Fluff and Sparkle brings home two C's on progress report and it becomes clear she needs more attention and structure in homework time. Suddenly, the thought of another weekly committment to a brand new role doesn't look like such a good idea. In fact, it sounds totally overwhelming. I am heading to doctor appointments, work and bed until I can recover. I am cancelling fun plans, busyness and housework just to get through the week. 

Somehow, in God's wonderful plan He set things up to work in a truly good way. My husband is my protection, often and mostly it seems, from myself. I am ever so thankful God reminded me to listen. I am humbled by how my attitude was so crabby with him instead of trusting that he did, in fact, have my best interest at heart and could offer some wisdom where I was blinded by excitement. It's not a common or popular message in our world to allow yourself to be led by a man. But in marriage, God set up a way to be protected, cherished and served, which sometimes looks like my man doing the dishes for me. And sometimes it looks like him telling me to slow down, hold back or stop. I realize not every husband embraces that role and not every marriage is loving. But I also know when both people live out the roles God gave them, it's pretty amazing.

Embracing Age

In my younger and sillier years, I wanted to be older so I would have credibility. I felt called to help others, especially women, but didn't think anyone would feel I had anything to say. I was only in my 20's, looked like a teenager, but was a young mom in a dysfunctional marriage and truth be told, I really didn't know what I didn't know. As I aged some and finally learned through life experiences that age doesn't equal wisdom, I quit worrying quite so much about looking credible and began wondering if I was credible. Did I even have anything to offer others? My picture perfect life had fallen apart. I was a divorced, single mom of two boys. How could I help anyone else, anyway?

I realized it wasn't what I had to offer others that mattered, eventually. It was God who qualified me to begin ministering to women, and it all happened quite naturally. One woman at a time, God began to use His work in my life to help others understand His purpose and love for them. I have found that one of the hardest parts of working with women is helping them deal with the tendency to earn love and approval. I know that struggle well, and God has had lots of work to do, removing idols from my heart. I have found also, that the more I share my weakness, lack of faith, sin and struggles- the more credible I become. Mainly because in exposing the real me, God clearly gets the glory for who I am today. It's been the most freeing part of my spiritual journey- letting go of the image I wanted to project and just being myself. Accepted by God, I no longer have to freak out if I suspect someone else doesn't quite approve. I know I am loved because of who God is, not who I am (or am not) and the older I get the more I am confident in that love. So much so, that lately I do not mind so much the visible signs of age that are appearing. Wrinkles around my eyes, obstinate gray hairs to be colored, gravity taking hold. No doubt about it- I do not look like that 20 year old girl anymore, but I am okay with it.

39 and loving it! Trust me girls, it just keeps getting better!

Because Daddy's Can't Have All the Fun!

My super cute acomplice in our secret mission to get ice cream!

In a normal week, my life is fairly routine. Partially, because as previously established, I like being a hamster on a wheel. Partially because being a mom of three kids requires some structure to make sure they all have clean underware, lunches for school and rides to and from all activities. And also, it seems like the role of mom is keeping the household running smoothly. Mostly evverything we do in the Russell family has some kind of plan: dinners? Meal plan. Dirty house? Chore plan. Sassy pants kids? Discipline plan.

So in general, mom takes the role of planner. And in our house, dad takes the role of "big softy". Sure the kids have a bedtime, but, wee'll let them stay up tonight because we're having so much fun. Sure, you planned for us to eat leftovers, but, we're going to get Taco Bell instead. (This is not to say dad takes the role of softy about sassy pants kids, however. In fact, in our house, dad takes the role of drill seargant if disrespect/defiance are involved) So over the years of day in day out mom and dad living in their respective roles, the kids come to know what to expect. Which dear friends, is where a wonderful ooportunity lies. Every so often, you need to startle your kids with something silly/spontaneous/unexpected. I have come to call these secret missions. My favorite secret missions involve creating a mess, which historically I never sanction, or getting junk food late at night, which is equally unusual as I am the Health Patrol. If you combine the two, all kinds of hilarity ensues! When my kids were much younger, the unexpected twists were geared toward their ages and me not losing my mind the next morning. Playing in the rain, eating popcorn for dinner while building the world's largest lincoln log village on the dining room table, going out after bathtime in our jammies to get an ice cream cone: fun but not anything that would create the world's crankiest kids in the morning. As the kids have aged, my favorite secret missions still remain breaking the rules on food and messes. And let me tell you, nine year old girls, LOVE a good secret mission. So last night, when Emma told me she was craving some ice cream, I seized the moment. She and I were going to play a little Chutes and Ladders downstairs by ourselves. All the boys were otherwise occupied. So I looked at her and said, "Come on sister! This is the perfect time for a run to Dairy Queen for a Peanut Buster Parfait!" It was 9:30 and she was in her jammies, so we bundled her in one of my zip ups and snuck out of the house. Ice cream tastes better when there is a level of covertness involved, I assure you.

Teenage Boys

There are currently three teenage boys in my kitchen making Gobi Aloo (indian Caulifower) and Chicken Tika Masala. I've died and gone to heaven. First of all they are making dinner. Secondly, Indian food is the-bom-diggity.

Teenage boys are one of my favorite breed of people. So far they have been annoyed, amused, antagonistic and confused with each other. In about 5 minutes. They don't give a whole lot of weight to their own emotions, let alone anyone else's which makes them easier to parent in some respects. Obviously, in other ways that's very challenging. The other day Em came in the door, clearly upset from her car ride home. Dad just looked at me like, "I don't know how to help her or you with this one" and big brother just looked at me and rolled his eyes,  beacon of sensitivity, that child. So I pulled the tearful girl into my bedroom to chat and discovered the source of her hurt: big brother knew he had pushed her, knew it had hurt her ankle and he just didn't care. "Mom, it's like sometimes I feel like he doesn't even care how I feel" to which I took a deep breath, looked her square in the face and let her in on a little secret. "He doesn't." After recovering from her initial shock, she giggled and so did I. But we went on to discuss how boys and girls are just so very different and while he brother may not care about her feelings all the time, he does love her very much. She decided it was okay to think teenage boys are weird, and I agreed that was sometimes true.

I hear mama's of teenage sons bemoan the changes in their offspring that begin sometime around 11 and I empathize. But let me offer some encouragement: as you stare into the x-boxing, headphone wearing, illegible handwriting, testosterone producing son who has taken your "little buddy's" place, don't miss out on the good. You have the unique privilege of guiding that boy into becoming the man God created him to be. As he flexes muscles in the kitchen you get to affirm that he will be such a great strong protector of his family one day. As he leaves a trail of really stinky socks around the house, you get to teach him about "living considerately" so as one day to be a kind husband.And on and on. It's such a joy as some of what you teach them begins to take root. And, the bigger joy, I promise, is when stuff you weren't smart enough to think up, begins to sprout and you know the Holy Spirit is leading them.

the "only has one year left at home" child

the "still so very cute when he wakes up sleepy" and "I won't pose for a picture" child

Party Time (baby-palooza-central)

It is an avalanche of Pampers, pacifiiers, adorable onsie's and baby shower bliss up in here! I have had so much fun reliving the baby days with lots of sweet mama's over the past few months. Recently I had the priviledge to host two fun showers- one for my dear friend's adopting three children from Colombia (yes, three!) and one for Emma's darling teacher who is expecting her first baby. Just for fun I thought I'd share some highlights from the events.

As the children are coming from Colombia, we used a global theme

Loved how the maps looked in our decor!

Cannot WAIT to welcome these three into our church family!

The beautiful mama-to-be! Doesn't she look so happy?

My dear friend, who is a real gourmet cook, researched authentic Colombian desserts and made these Alfajores cookies! Delish!

It was truly a wonderful celebration of a 2 1/2 year journey toward bringing home their children and I felt so blessed to get to host the joyous occasion! And there were lots of delightfully helpful friends who contributed food, creativity and love to make it a special afternoon.

My other baby shower fun was for Emma's teacher, who is expecting her first baby boy, Avery James, next month. (We may or may not go into mourning when she goes on maternity leave) It's a little more challenging, decorating and celebrating in a school classroom, but I think it turned out great and the kids had a blast celebrating their beloved Mrs. Wilson.

Because we combined our class Valentine's party with the baby shower we went with the theme "Showers of Love"

We played "Guess the Baby Food" and don't be fooled by that smile- Emma skipped the taste testing and opted to sniff the little blobs to make her guess!

All the 4th grade parents contributed food and we had quite a spread!

What a blessing for Emma to have had Mrs. Wilson this year! (side note- Emma picked out her Valentine's Day outfit and was decidedly the most colorful child in class! Love my little fashionista!)

Grace, Mercy and Apple

Two nights ago I received grace and mercy, quite unexpectedly in the form of a brand new Ipad.

Two days ago I was having one of those irrational, hormonal, "don't mess with me pork chop" kind of days. For no good reason, mind you. Nothing bad happening, no drama- just a moody and unbalanced kind of day. Fortunately for the children they were all in school. Not so fortunately for my husband, he was not. Working from home has many challenges for him, not the least of which is his wife interrupting his concentration by asking questions that come to mind or trying to talk him into taking me on a lunch date (although to be fair he is pretty easy to convince on that one). At any rate, on this particular day I was not in the mood to have him home. I wanted the house all to myself because I'm almost never there without someone else. Plus, and this will make no sense to men, I can't clean in peace knowing he's there. But, here's the kicker, I wasn't even planning on cleaning. I just wanted the option to know if I decided to clean in peace, he was not going to be there to annoy my inner zen. (I already admitted to being irrational- just giving you an accurate picture of my self absorption in the moment) So, I began a not-so-subtle campaign to create motivation in him to leave. I wasn't exactly picketing his presence, but close. I whined about how I'm never alone in the house. I reminded him he had some good errands he needed to run. I even became tearful at one point about how I can't get on the computer because he's always working on it. It wasn't pretty and i even knew it was ridiculous, but felt incapable of reeling it in. Finally, as any sane person would do, he got the heck out of there.

About 4 hours later I got a text. "I have a fun surprise for you." Curious, I thought, but fun none the less.

When I came home from picking up the kids from school, waiting on the kitchen counter was a big, red Valentine's bag with heart tissue sticking out of it and a card resting next to it. My husband came out of the bedroom with that look of someone who knew he was about to totally delight me. And he was right. I opened the card, which was super sweet, and then pulled out a brand new Ipad and attachable keyboard. I was completely shocked. For one thing, I have never owned a piece of new technology. I always get hand-me-downs because I'm cheap like that. (Remember, I used a duct taped washing machine for a year) But also, we do not exchange gifts for Valentine's Day normally. And certainly not one so extravagant. As he was telling me all about how he spent several hours comparing devices and talking to the sales guys about which option would fit my needs best, I was thinking, "I am a big fat jerk. I cannot believe he went out and bought me an Ipad in response to my bratty attitude this morning." But, you know, that's how God designed marriage to work. When I am being unlovable, my husband is supposed to mirror God's love for me. And when he is having his "jerky" moments, I am to reflect God's love to him.

Grace is getting what you don't deserve. Mercy is not getting what you do deserve. I deserved my husband to be annoyed or angry with me. Perhaps to withhold his love until I at least apologized. But I got none of that. I did not deserve an overflow of extravagant love, but I got it anyway. In Christ, I receive both grace and mercy every day. I deserve punishment for my rejection of God in my self service. I don't deserve an extravagant inheritance and blessing upon blessing. But Jesus took my punishment, so I could receive His reward. Grace and Mercy.