Is It My Turn Yet?

there is a common occurrence in our household.  i'm assuming it's the case in many other homes who have children.  my house sounds a little like this...

there's maddox talking non-stop about anything and everything.  he is the center of it all.  conversationalist at its best (and worst).  he can be asking a question and answering it all at one time.  he could talk to a brick wall and not realize it.  he just wants to TALK!

add in zane who is trying to show me tricks.  trying to make me laugh.  trying to show me something, ask me something, get help with something.  making noises with his mouth, his fist, his feet, you name the noise, he's making it.  and if he knows that maddox, or anyone, has my attention, then, by-golly, he is going to figure out a way to get my attention as well.

add in little echo who is right below my feet with a pouty face on.  even her teachers have commented on how far her bottom lip can protrude and they agree that she can hold this face for longer than any child they've seen.  yes, echo is a whiner and a pouter.  she has gotten much better at crying in a very low roar which is nice.  so pout away my tiny princess!  at least it's silent.

and then there's reese.  my rule follower.  my child who does not want to get in the way.  she is a mini mommy when it comes to the other children.  she knows when i'm stressed, she knows when everyone is demanding time with me, all at once, and she tries to hold back.  but, being in a larger family, she too needs to be heard.  so let's add in her constant shoulder tap (because clearly that won't drive me nuts) along with the quiet "mommy, mommy, mommy".  or, if she is feeling really sorry for me, she will simply raise her hand in the air.

now put it all together and what do you get?

one crazy mama.

in these moments, i don't know where to look, who to turn to, which fire to put out, what the most important discussion is, when to stop one child talking and go to another.  who to scold or who to hold.  and half the time, i don't know where my own thoughts and words are...because i'm lost in the chaos around me.

the other day, the children were all going at me with things to say and do,

mommy, did you know.....?
     mommy, could you....?
          mommy, can you....?
               mommy, fix this.....
                    tap, tap, tap.....tap, tap, tap.....(hand going up)
                         pouty face at my feet.......

when zane, out of nowhere, during a very quick silent second said very loudly, "is it my turn YET"!

i have told the children that we need to take turns.  we need to all be able to listen and hear one another.  i've asked them not to talk AT me but to talk TO me.  i have to hand it to zane, he did get my attention.  he got everyone's attention.  well, maybe not maddox's who was still talking about what he had learned in school that day (from start to finish!).

i directed my eyes and attention right to zane.  "yes, it's your turn.  what would you like to say?"

i'm not sure what he said after that, it was something random and ultimately important only because he wanted to have a voice at that moment.  but it wasn't lost on me that he was expressing himself much the same way that i've been going about my prayers lately.

is it my turn yet?

i've been going into my prayers so sheepishly these days.  a little timid and very unsure.  why?  i mean, to be humbled before God is a really good thing but i think that i've taken it a step beyond that.  and not in a step in the right direction.

i've found that i hold out on my prayers a little longer than i did a few weeks ago.  i wait for the "perfect prayer time".  i've always been one to just talk to God, whenever and wherever.  it's the beauty of having a personal relationship with a God who is always there, always ready to listen.  so why have i started to come away from my freedom of prayer?

because there are times in our lives when we have struggles that seem bigger than others.  bigger than big.  struggles that seem more difficult to overcome.  we find ourselves in a place that we want and need to be heard.  we want answers.  we want results.  i have found myself in these stressful struggles lately and instead of consistently asking for big answers, i ask for little answers all day and try to save the really big stuff for later.

ohhh, that prayer is really serious, i'll pray for that later....

hmmmm, that prayer is going to take some concentration, i'll ask for that later....

i'll rattle on about the little things.

     i'll tap, tap, tap.

          i'll raise my hand.

               i'll pout.  (okay, maybe not pouting, but feeling heavy-hearted...and God sees our hearts.)

the truth is.  when i try to pray about the big things lately, i cry.  and i don't like to cry.  or there are moments that i feel like i don't have enough time to pray for the big things.  i tell myself, "i can't interrupt The Big Guy right now, i need to be more focused to pray a prayer that big...".  so i pray for little things throughout the day.  i find a quiet place for the big things.  and that's not all that bad.  i think that's probably good.  but i don't want to feel like i can only pray for the big things at certain times and in certain places.  because it's not how God works.  He listens all the time, to the big and the small.  wherever, whenever.  i don't have to ask, "is it my turn yet" because it's always my turn.  i don't have to try to talk over anyone else or steal His attention from anyone.  He's always focused on me.  and He does that for every one at every moment.

i think i speak for a lot of us when i say that we hand Him things that even we ourselves could fix.  right?  we give Him the tiny prayers, the ones that will be answered in time regardless of our prayer.  the prayers that an unbeliever could figure out and do.    the prayers that don't need a miracle.  the prayers that humans could answer on their own.  little prayers need little answers.  God gave us big minds, so most of these things we can figure out on our own.  but lately, i've had to pray big.  and it's scary.  even to a girl who has big faith.  it's still scary.

is it my turn, yet?  

will You hear my cry?

can i ask You this big question while i'm on the bus, in the grocery store, in the kitchen, at the table, brushing my teeth?  

i know His answer is yes.

i look back on the times when i prayed big.  and although i may not have gotten the answer that i wanted, i was answered with an overwhelming peace and certainty of the direction i should go.  it's been true for many things that heath and i have been through together.  it's certainly been true for the things that i've been through on my own.  it's the times when i've given God the heavy loads that He has pulled through the strongest, the most memorable, the most powerful, the surest and the sweetest.

i'm going to pray big and i'm going to pray boldly.  because i want big and bold answers.  i want big and bold results.  this shouldn't stop me from taking time out to find a quiet place to pray because, ultimately, i think that's when we hear His answers.  and i want to hear His answers.  but i'm going to force myself to pray big at all times, in all places, for all things.

pray big today.  pray boldly.  it's your turn.


"So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most."  Hebrews 4:16

Could You Hand Me That Pine Cone, Please?

when i was around 5 years old, my brother and i were playing "war" in the back yard with a little boy that would come to our house after school some days.  we'd not been playing very long when the boy threw a pine cone right at my face.  it felt like the biggest, pointiest, pine-piniest, pine cone of them all.  it hurt!  i remember crying and knowing that there was blood, although i'm not sure how much, i'm thinking maybe it was only a scratch, but it felt like i was going to die.

while standing there crying, i remember my brother yelling at the boy.  and with one swoop, my brother picked me up and carried me to the house to take me to my mother.  while being carried, i remember feeling that it was worth the blood, worth the pain.  my brother had never carried me before and, to my knowledge, had never taken up for me so aggressively.  he was my hero in that moment.

my brother let me fight my own battles growing up.  i think he knew that i was very willing and able to take a stand for myself.  and i had a big mouth.  he probably didn't want to get in the middle of anything that dealt with me and my drama.  however, the times that i needed him, he would come to my aid.  the day on the bus, when older kids were teasing me, he told them "shut-up and leave her alone." (which was a big deal since "shut-up" was a bad word in our household).   the day that his friend was punching and picking on me a little too hard, my brother stepped in and told the kid to "lay off of her because she doesn't like that." and the time in college when his roommate and i dated for a while.  we stopped dating but the guy still wanted to see me.  my brother had to let him know he needed to back off and leave me alone.  my brother was not the most aggressive but he never had to be.  when he said something, they seemed to listen.  not because they were afraid, but because they knew he was right.

these were such tiny and insignificant moments to anyone else, but to me, they are seared in my memory.  my big brother was defending me. he was taking care of me.  he was never dramatic about it, he would just say it like it was.  simple.  leave her alone.

we recently found out that my brother has hodgkin's lymphoma.  a type of cancer.  we do not yet know the stage or what actions need to be taken.  but we all know that cancer is a very ugly word.  it's a scary word.  it's a word that has recently been pounding in my head like a constant jack hammer.  it's a word, that, up until now, had not touched my closest family members.  it was the word that lurked in corners, stalked others around me, but not yet teased one of my own.

i've spent days walking around half alive, half coma.  i've composed myself at almost all times, but there are moments when the tears come out of nowhere.

like when i'm washing my hands and i think the children won't hear over the running water.

or when i shower and no one will notice the tears.

at night, muffled in my pillow.

after taking my children to school, the moment to breathe...and then cry.

the tears come at the most random times.

my mother said it best when she told me that we would take this news, get over the shock and the sadness and then we are all going to fight.

terry, i wish i had the biggest, pointiest, pine-piniest pine cone.  i would throw that sucker right in the face of your cancer.  i would tell cancer to leave you alone and to lay off of you.  and i'm much more dramatic and hot-headed then you, so i would additionally scream and punch it.  i'd probably even kick it in the nose.

i hesitated to write this today.  my mind tells me not to think about it and not to talk about it and maybe it won't exist, maybe it will go away.  but my faith and my belief in the power of prayer reminds me that God is always at work.  there is power in prayer.  i've experienced it, first-hand.  i've seen what prayer can do.  so i'm going to pray.  i'm going to cry when i need to.  i'm going to take comfort in the peace and understanding that my brother is in the greatest Hands of all.

and i'm going to look for a pine cone.


"As soon as I pray, you answer me; you encourage me by giving me strength."  Psalms 138:3



"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."  Philippians 4:6-7