Monthly Archives: November 2015

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I feel like the suburban mom version of Eminem in the movie 8 Mile.

“His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy

There’s vomit on his sweater already, mom’s spaghetti

He’s nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs,

But he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down….”

They call our names.  The moment I had been dreading all morning was upon us. There was no turning back now. Palms sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy….thankfully no vomit on my sweater.

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The four of us follow the women back into the room. Women.  They brought two this time. Maybe there was a note letting them know how poorly it went the last time we were here.

I could see the note now. “Things got a bit wild. Please send in reinforcements.”

One of the women closes the door. They both look at me and smile.  It was time.  They had no idea what they were in for.

I had brought three children with me to a Doctor appointment. Game on.

I have four children.  I needed to keep that in mind.  This could always be worse.

I don’t know why, but the minute the door closes at a Doctor appointment it is like my children have hopped straight out of the pages of Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are.

Maybe it is because we are trapped in a tiny toyless room surrounded by a plethora of foreign objects that scream, “pretty, shiny, pointy, grab me!” all while I am screaming, “look, but don’t touch!”

I try to help the situation.  I bring toys.  I bring coloring books, and crayons, and other gadgets, and gizmos. That doesn’t matter. The only thing that usually happens is a crayon explosion of immense proportions on the floor.  It is way more fun to dump the crayons than to actually color. And the one time that they did all sit and color, one of them went off of the page and ended up coloring all over the floor.  Oh no.

Or maybe the problem is the chairs.

In most Doctor’s offices there are two chairs available for the patient, but two other options that seem way better.  This office was no exception.

The first option that is way more appealing than the stiff, uncomfortable chair is the chair that is reserved for the Doctor.  This chair usually spins, or reclines, or rolls, or maybe if we are really lucky, does all three. A child’s dream come true.

The other item of intrigue is the examination table.  The one that is too high for them to jump on easily.  Or, in other words, the table that has just become an obstacle to overcome.

Or maybe it isn’t the chairs at all.

It could possibly be because they know that I am distracted and can’t give them my full attention.  My kids have an incredible ability to do the craziest things when they don’t have my full attention.  They could be playing happily all day and the minute I try to get on the phone, things fall apart.  Maybe it’s the same thing at the Doctor’s office.

I’m not really sure what it is, but what I do know is that the next thirty minutes or so went as I had envisioned when I was palms sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy in the waiting room.

At one point two of my children decide to play rock, paper, scissors.

“Oh good,” I think.  This can’t be bad.  They are entertaining themselves with “rock, paper, scissors, poop.” What? Yep.  Oh no.  And then, Patrick says, “rock, paper, scissors, gun.” What? Where in the world did that come from?  Is it just in his little boy DNA to talk about a gun?  We don’t even have a toy gun in the house.  Not that I am against them.  Honestly, I don’t even know how I feel about them.  We hadn’t reached that point.  He just turned three and hasn’t shown any interest.  Until now.  At the Doctor’s office.  “Rock, paper, scissors, gun.” Oh my.

And all the while, I am trying to have a conversation with the Doctor, and his nurse, who are now both in the room at their computers asking questions and taking notes.  Notes like, “they are still crazy.  Continue to send in reinforcements.”

I want so badly to concentrate on the Doctor’s words, but “rock, paper, scissors, poop” is pretty distracting. Is it more rude to let them play this game, or to interrupt the Doctor to parent them? I am trapped.   It is the “what’s more rude?” predicament that I find myself in often.

At another point, it is time for one of the kids to hop up on the table. Green light!  He said hop up on the table!  Whoop!  Whoop!  

All three kids come charging like a herd of wild animals during a stampede.  Probably not really, but that is what it feels like in the moment.  The lucky child who has been called first climbs up onto the table.  Then the other tries to climb up too. This is a mess of limbs.  Arms and legs flying around everywhere, so I just help her up.  And then the third sees that it is a free for all.  Looks to him like it doesn’t matter who has been called.  He’s no dummy.  The problem is, he is too little to make that climb, so instead he just stands by my side repeating over and over, “Mom, I want up too.  Mom, I want up too.” 

I can’t concentrate with this mess, so I ask the Doctor if it is Ok if they all just get up on the table.  I don’t want to fight this battle.  Not now.

“Of course,” he says, “but keep your eye on the little one.”

The uncomfortable part of this, is that I am now forced into the Doctor’s personal space.

You know how we all have little invisible boxes that we travel with.  Personal space boxes.  These little invisible boxes are to be respected. That is why there is an entire character in Seinfeld devoted to a person who ignores this invisible box.  The close talker.  Nobody wants to be the close talker.

But I have no choice.  I have to be the close talker.

The Doctor, is standing by his computer that sits on a podium. The podium is right next to the examination table that all three of my children are now occupying.  It is a very, very small room.  In order for me to be by my children, I have to be sandwiched in the small space between the Doctor, standing by his podium, and the table.  What ends up happening is he is asking me a series of questions and I am breathing the answers down his neck.  Don’t make eye contact. So.  Uncomfortable.

This isn’t all that happened during this trip. There is more.  Much more. From multiple children laying across each other on the two stiff, uncomfortable, chairs, to me saying sternly, “that just isn’t appropriate”, and of course the standard sibling arguments that ensue when I am distracted and can’t give them my full attention.

These are just some of the highlights of this visit.

I did eventually get out of the Doctor’s personal space. Thank goodness.  The kids did stop playing “rock, paper, scissors, poop”, or gun, or whatever other thing they said that they shouldn’t be saying. I did get my questions answered.  The ones that I remembered to ask anyways.  Just like Eminem, I go in with a plan and “keep on forgetting what I wrote down.”

How can a person remember anything with “rock, paper, scissors, poop” happening in the background?

But we made it through.  And as the Doctor was leaving, I think he could see the look of defeat in my eyes.

I said to him, “I am sorry for all of the distractions.”

He just looked at me and smiled and said, “I wouldn’t be a good pediatrician if I let kids distract me. Would I?”

Point made, kind sir.  Point made.  And that is why you are an excellent pediatric pulmonologist.

His encouragement didn’t stop me from sending a text to my husband that said, “I cannot possibly do this again.”

But I will.  And, it will be fine.  Because they are kids acting like kids.  The nurses and Doctors smile at me, and offer me words of encouragement, because this is what they see all day long.  Kids acting like kids trapped in a tiny room with shiny objects for a long period of time being transformed into wild things who “roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws.”

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Or maybe my parenting style is everything that they say is wrong with our generation of parents.  Maybe I’m blaming chairs, and tight spaces, and tiny objects when I really need to be looking more closely at how I am disciplining my children.  Maybe my kids should be expected to sit perfectly in the hard chairs not speaking until being spoken to.  Waiting patiently for the Doctor to call on them.  That sure does sound nice.

I don’t know.  All I know is that I am trying.  So what am I going to do?  I am going to do what Eminem suggests, “I’m going to lose myself…in the moment. You own it, you better never let it go. You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow. This opportunity comes once in a lifetime.”

I’m going to keep trying to be the best parent I know how to be.  I only get one shot.  This opportunity comes once in a lifetime.  It is my time with these little ones.

And some times are a bit more wild than others.

 

 

 

 

 

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Have you ever been in a place of darkness in your life?  Where it feels like you have fallen to the bottom of a well?  You look up and see the sliver of light, but it seems so far away.  It seems impossible to reach as the walls are pressing in and the the darkness surrounds you.  You want desperately to climb out of it, but don’t know how.

I have been there.  I have been in that well.

One choice lead to another. That lead to another. And another.  And before I knew it, I was in the darkest hour of my life.

It was in this hour of darkness that God reached down to me.

This is the God I worship and love.  A God that reaches into the pit and with all of His love, and all of His mercy, shows a way out.

God is love.

When I first came out of this period of darkness, I would be comforted when I read about how He ministered to the people that the religious people of the time deemed unworthy of love.  He came to the earth in the form of man and showed love to the most broken people.

When I think of those “What Would Jesus Do” bracelets, that is what I think of. That is what Jesus did.  He loved the broken people.

And if He loved them, then He had to love me.  Right?

But some people did not like the way that Jesus loved others.  The people that He chose to interact with offended some.  The Pharisees and the Saducees, the religious leaders of the time, could not see who Jesus was because they were blinded by their laws and their rules.

The notion of who they believed Jesus would be, blinded them to who He really was.

God is love.

They believed He was supposed to be a great King who would ride in all of His glory striking down those who went against Him.

But instead, He was born in a manger.  He was not of wealth, or great social status.  He was the son of a carpenter.

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He was the son of a carpenter who befriended the lowest of the low.  He hung out with women, and not just any women.  Adulteresses and prostitutes.

He spoke to the Samaritan woman at the well.  A woman that nobody would be seen with.

He called twelve men to follow Him intimately, as His disciples.  Fisherman.  Tax collectors.  Someone who He knew would betray Him with a betrayal that would lead to His death.  These are the men He broke bread with. These are the men whose feet He washed.  These people were not important people in their community. They were not the religious leaders in the church.

He healed people with leprosy, bleeding disorders and other ailments.

He loved all people.  Not just in word, but in action.

God is love.

John 8:3-11 states:

The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst they said to him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery.  Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?”  This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground.  And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” And once more he bent down and wrote on the ground. But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him.  Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”  She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.”

This is Jesus.  This is God who came to earth. Fully man. Fully God.  This is the God who pulled me out of the well.

God is love.

As Christians, we are called to show the love of Christ to those around us.  As I mentioned before, remember those “What Would Jesus Do” bracelets that were popular in the 90s?  I realize I am completely dating myself, but let’s think about that.

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What would Jesus do?

Looks to me like He would love the people that the religious leaders of the time deem unworthy.  Looks to me like He would minister to the hurting.  Looks to me like He would enter into deep relationships with people and point them to the one who loves them most of all.

I wonder what people see when they see Christians today?  Do they see Jesus in us? Do we minister to people in their pain and suffering and point them to a God who loves them?

We are to love. God makes that perfectly clear.  That is the greatest commandment He gives us. Above all else.  Love.

When I was in my darkest hour, it was not shame and condemnation that brought me to my knees.  It was love.  God’s love.

God is love.

When I picture Jesus here today,  I picture him with homosexuals and the women at abortion clinics.  I don’t picture Him with picket signs.  I picture Him with His arms around these people loving them.

I picture Him saying, “He who is without sin, cast the first stone.”

I wonder what twelve people Jesus would call by His side today?  I bet it would not be who we expect.

I want to love like Jesus loved.  As a Christian, I want people to see Christ in me.  I want to stand up for what matters.  Justice.  Mercy.  Love.

I don’t want to live a life of judgment.  And that includes me not judging other Christians as well. We all have our junk that we need to work through.  Every single one of us.  I mess up daily. There is a lot in my life that needs worked out in my faith, with fear and trembling.

But as I work these things out, I know God is with me.  I know He loves me.  I know He is patient with me.

God is love.

What would Jesus do?  I don’t think He would get hung up on the color of coffee cups.  I don’t think He would speak hateful words against groups of people.

I think, like the Saducees and Pharisees, it is so easy to be blinded by our rules and laws.  But we need to be careful that we don’t become too much like the Saducees and Pharisees. They were so blinded by their laws that they could not see God in the flesh before them.  They hung Him on a tree to die.

Don’t get me wrong.  God does have commandments.  God does call us to obedience.  There are consequences for stepping out of His will.  This is all true.  God is just.

But, I don’t see the Bible as just a book of rules to follow.  It is so much more than that. I see the Bible as a love story.  He is calling His people back to Him.  He came here and He died, a horrific death, on a cross, for us.  He showed us how He calls us to love.  As Christ loved.

God is love.

He saved my life.  He pulled me out of the well.  And now, He has called me to love others as He has loved me.  And that is why I love Jesus, and homosexuals, and women at abortion clinics, and that is why I am not going to waste my time worrying about the color of a coffee cup.  There is so much more in this broken world for me to be concerned with than that.

 

Scripture to meditate on: 

And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. 1 John 4:16

Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. 1 John 4:8

1 Corinthians 13:

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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