Changing.

I used to dream that I would change the world.  

I wanted to be a lawyer.

The plan was to go to undergrad, then move to back to Alabama and get my law degree.

And then along came Savannah.

At first I was a little lost.

I remember thinking... this is it.  All I do is change diapers and do laundry and rock a baby.

Its funny now.

The highlights of my days aren't winning a case.

Somewhere along the way my dreams changed.

Now I get excited about soccer banquets, warm sunny afternoons in the yard, and baking cookies.

At the end of the day, you don't really remember the cases you've won.

You remember the times you laughed so hard your sides hurt.

You remember painting pumpkins and watching your children play together through an open window.

You remember wanting to put them up for adoption some days.

You remember being exhausted.

But you remember being happy.

Five years later,

instead of changing the world, I'm changing diapers.

Because I've changed.

Funny thing about it?

I wouldn't change a thing.

Life is funny.

 Life is funny sometimes.

Motherhood is funny.

There are stages that each child goes through, and I think we are given something to love and hate about each stage.  You know, so we can enjoy it but still be ready to move on when it is over.  

Newborns are so sweet, cuddly, beautiful, and perfect.  They don't smack their siblings or sass their parents.  They are incredibly needy, but sometimes that is endearing.  But they get up throughout the night, you can't distract them from their crying, and you have to pack everything but the kitchen sink in the diaper bag to leave the house.  Not to mention you may have to change 3 times to avoid spit up stains.

Toddlers are funny.  The little personality begins to emerge and you watch in rapture as they hit their milestones.  You clap and cheer when they say a new word or do a funny trick.  They are still cuddly and needy, but not nearly as much.  They can feed themselves, talk, they sleep (more), and there are no more bottles to wash.  But there are days that you get them into bed and fall onto the couch in an exhausted stupor only to squint and discover crayon on the wall or poptart crumbs in your bed.  There will be times they will paint the floor with a bottle of your lotion or leave a mural with a tube of lipstick.  And you will swear to kill the person who thought up that singing purple dinosaur we all love to hate. 

Then they start preschool.  They grow more independent and you realize you no longer have a baby.  There are no more diapers to change!!!  You sniffle on the first day of school as you watch the little backpack round the corner, but there are other days that school can't start soon enough.  They are adorable and funny, but challenging.  They will say things that embarrass you to death.  They have minds and wills of their own.  You better make sure you have their favorite cup clean at all times, and they really like to wear polkadots, stripes, neons, checkered print, and glittery tie-dye rainbows in the same outfit.  You'll get calls from the teacher, they'll have to apologize to other children, and you'll have to listen to Taylor Swift sing the same song 47 times in a row until you hide the CD out of desperation to keep your sanity.

And then they'll start Kindergarten.  They'll be gone all day and you'll wonder why 8-2 seems like forever and how they got so grown up.  They'll come home with homework and shock you at how quickly they learn.  They'll catch a bus, buy a lunch, and remember special events.  You'll smile when you hear stories of the day and grimace when you hear about the boy on the bus that likes her.  You'll love sleeping through the night but hate how you have to repeat things 87 times to get them done.  You'll enjoy having full-sentence conversations and fun parent-child dates, but you'll want to pull your hair out when they argue with everything.  You'll wonder why you thought life would get simpler when they went to school now that you have PTA meetings, ball games, homework, library books, and snack schedules to keep up with.

You'll find yourself sitting on the sidelines of a soccer field, freezing as the sun sets.  You'll be thinking about all that you have left to do, and you'll realize that you can't wait until the season is over so that you don't have to spend the evenings shuttling your child back and forth to the field, washing a uniform, and bundling up a toddler.  You'll be glad you don't have to juggle cheering for one child and keeping the other off of the field.  But then your child will run past, turn around, find you in the crowd, and give you a thumbs up.  And you'll realize that in what sometimes feels like forever.. but really is no time at all... that she won't be looking for your approval at all.  That she will be independent, grown-up, and gone.  And you'll be glad that you spend your evenings exhausted with an empty wallet, cheering on a team of six little kids that aren't even sure which end of the field they are supposed to be running towards... and keep asking if they are done yet so they can go eat dinner.  Because that, my friends, is where life happens.

Wordless Wednesday

Today.

Today the sun is shining on me.

Sitting with my feet in the breeze, ain't sweating the little things.

Who knows what tomorrow is gonna bring. 

But today the sun is shining on me.

Legacy

 Have you ever wondered what you'll leave behind?

When you are gone... what will be left of you?

Today I experienced the legacy of a man that I wish I had the chance to know.

Ryan Shelor is celebrating his 28th birthday in Heaven with our Savior.

And I can't wait to meet him and tell him about how I spent his 28th birthday.

I got a call the other day that the Ryan Shelor Fund had approved our application to provide Brooklyn with an Ipad to help with her therapy, education, and communication. 

And they wanted to meet us on October 2 to give it to her.

Because that was Ryan's birthday. 

I am so incredibly honored that Brooklyn was chosen to receive this gift.

And that Ryan had such a vision to want to leave a legacy.

His vision was that children with special needs not go without things that would improve their lives.

He touched our lives today.  I've spent most of the afternoon crying over the preciousness of this gift.  And not even necessarily the physical gift, though it is incredibly nice.  But I've been so humbled by the gift of Ryan's heart that was passed on to us today.

Ryan was born as a preemie, just like Brookie.

He lived a life where his body and his brain didn't work very well together.

But he did not let the limitations of his physical body impair his life or quench his spirit.

At the age of 21, he went to be with the Lord.  But not before he gave the first award from the Ryan Shelor Fund.  Most kids his age would've been far more interested in trivial things at age 21. 

I'm so thankful for Ryan's vision and generosity.

Happy Birthday, Ryan Shelor!

I can't wait to meet you on the other side of eternity. 

www.RyanShelorFund.org

Dancing Queen

You are the dancing queen...

Young and sweet...

 You can dance, you can jive...

 Having the time of your life...

See that girl, watch that scene...

...dancing queen.

For real.

What does it mean to be real?  And why is it so hard?

I've never liked pretenders.  I think the skeptic in me sees them and thinks... 

Okay but what are you really thinking?

We've had quite a bumpy road with Brooklyn, and if you keep up with my blog, that comes as no surprise to you.  My prayer throughout this whole adventure has been that I would stay real. 

I think as a Christian we try sometimes to find a very delicate balance between saying, "I trust God and He is always good so everything is happy all of the time and I have absolutely no reason to be sad" and "I'm really sad but I can't tell anyone because then they will think I don't have faith in God."  I don't want to fall into either of those categories.  I want to be real. 

Do those who claim the name of Christ go through hard times?  Absolutely.  Do they get sad?  You bet.  Is it wrong to be sad?  Heck no.  I'm always encouraged by the story of Jesus and Lazarus.  Lazarus was a dear friend of Jesus who died.  Jesus went to his grave at the urging of his sisters, and He wept.  The scriptures don't say that He shed a few tears... He wept.  The word wept conjures up images of heartbreak.  Or if you are like me, splotchy skin and a really ugly crying face.  The interesting thing to me is that Christ knew His father.  Intimately.  And He trusted Him.  Implicitly.  Yet He wept.

Later, when it came time for Jesus to carry out His purpose in being on earth and the time drew near for him to endure great suffering for us, He was not happy.  He was in anguish.  The accounts say that in His agony, his sweat poured out like blood.  He begged God to change His mind.  And then when He didn't, Jesus submitted to God's will.  He wasn't excited... happy... joyful...nor do I believe He had a smile plastered to His face.  But He chose to walk that road without kicking and screaming.

It is almost comical to me sometimes that we even try to pretend for God.  We thank Him for things that we really aren't thankful for.  We tell Him that He is good when we don't really believe it.  A friend of mine in high school told me once that I didn't have to pretend with God and that I had permission to tell God that I didn't understand.  I remember looking at him wide-eyed and thinking... that would be so disrespectful.  He went on to explain to me that if you read the Psalms, David asks questions of God and asks Him to change His mind repeatedly.  He asks why.  And he was a man after God's own heart.  I remember him saying, "Besides... don't you think God already knows how you really feel?"

I want to be real.  I want to be transparent.
I want to be able to say... this is so hard.  

But then I want to convey that even when I don't see the evidence, I know in my heart that God is indeed good.  And that doesn't mean I'm happy about my circumstances or that I want to go skipping through a meadow rejoicing.  But because I trust in His goodness, I am willing to walk the long road.  I am willing to do the hard things.  Because I know that God loves me.  Deeply.  And that if He allowed something to pass through His hands to me, it was for my good.  And He is changing me. 
Which is, in a way, a reason to rejoice. 
Because He loves me too much to leave me as I am.  

Hallelujah.