on marking time, and peace

So many momentous occasions this past week; it seems fitting to write them down, lest I forget.

Last Sunday was Mother's Day, and Moriah's dedication day. In our faith tradition, we don't baptize babies with water, but we do bless them--we bring them to the front of the church where our minister hugs them in his arms, charges us parents with faith-filled parenting, and blesses our children with prayer. It was a milestone for me in particular; a public surrendering of what we have been given, an opportunity for me to say, yes, here she is, I am laying it down now, all the pain and grief, and wanting now just to bless her, to stop the cursing of the last months and open my heart to the blessing. The pastor prayed a prayer that incorporated the biblical meaning of her name, including a verse that has become very poignant for me, when King David says of purchasing the land of Mount Moriah, "I will not give to the Lord that which costs me nothing." I think that verse so relevant--mostly, I think of how much it has cost us to birth Moriah--but the pastor turned the verse on its head for me, and reminded me how much God's love costs Him, how precious (what a "pearl," Moriah's middle name) Moriah is to Him. These reflections make me want to say, if God's love can hurt him, and it certainly did, then it's okay for my love for Moriah to hurt me, too. Because it does hurt. On Sunday it hurt to see Moriah held up for all to see, to imagine how her diagnosis was dawning on all who saw her. It hurt to stand with two other families whose babies are pictures of health, to wish all good for them, while also carrying so much that has not been good for us. So mostly, I found again that this surrendering stuff is not easy, and is ongoing, and messy. And mostly, I found I was tired, as most moms of three kids are, and was grateful finally to return to my seat in church and, at the end of the day, to send our well-wishers home and lay down to rest.

On Wednesday we celebrated Orilus' four-year anniversary of his bone marrow transplant. I made both of our boys cards (Jackson, for donating four years ago, Orilus for fighting his way back to health and for both of them, remembering God's grace in our family) and got up early and baked them cinnamom rolls. Jason was home that morning (he had to take Moriah to an audiology appointment, which didn't go that well...Moriah has fluid in her ears and is probably hearing us "through a swimming pool" only, and may need tubes in her ears in a couple months), and I was grateful for family time around the breakfast table. Except when we sat down to eat with cards and cinnamon rolls, both the boys were incredibly grumpy. One refused to turn towards the table to eat, preferring instead not even to look at us (I forget why this was, but it may have been because we had forced him to actually DO his homework the night before, which, as you know, is no different than any other night, but my gosh, WHAT were we thinking?!). And they both refused to speak a word. Jason: "Boys, did you read the cards mom made you?" Boys: blank stares. And so on. And so, friends, we marked another milestone feeling very tired indeed, and again I was reminded...it's easier for me to feel spiritual and amazed and thankful about such milestone than it is to actually help your kids to feel such things.

And so. And so Thursday was Moriah's 10-month birthday, and by then, we had even grumpier boys than the day before, and knew better than to try to mark the thing except to say, "Hey, boys, it's Moriah's birthday today!" for which we may have gotten a nod or something nearly as significant.

And then came this weekend, which was no marker at all, just a bright and warm and sunny wekeend. And we put down a lot of things we wanted to get done, and used some time to have a picnic supper in the backyard together. And to play a (really rough...ow!) game of basketball together while Moriah watched from the sidelines. To take a walk. To hike the pond. And so on. Our boys were sometimes grumpy, sometimes not, but by the end of today, I had this thought: the chaos and craziness of our life is not really guaranteed to go away. We have three very needy kids. And just two parents. And a dog. And new friends to meet and make. And a whole Winchell clan that needs us in various ways, for moving into their houses and bringing their trash to the dump and so on. And our own plans, for date nights and things like that, don't really happen hardly ever, what with people cancelling and unable to help us out. All this was nearly enough to make me crazy yesterday. So I walked for four miles, came back a couple hours later (it didn't take me a couple hours to walk four miles...I stopped to read a book and feed Moriah and check out a consignment shop), and by the end of it all, I realized it's all craziness, a lot of the time, except what is in me...that doesn't have to be craziness. So instead of waiting for the next gala date night, or the "break" I think I really deserve but am probably not going to get, I'm going to do what I know to do...breathe deeply. Do yoga in the living room. Journal. Reach out for Jesus. Take walks. Ignore things that "have" to get done in favor of the things that keep ME from being un-done.

This morning in church our speaker was talking about God IN us. I do believe that. Which means...which means when all else is grumpy or disappointing or sad, I can be well, empowered, strengthened, and even, yes...at peace.

I told this to Moriah today, and she gave me a big smile. So I think she agrees, too. Peace is possible. Even in the crazy Winchell household.