The 'Miracle' of birth

I find this photo amazing. With all the technology, it may not be genuine
but if it is....WOW! Anyone who doesn't think a mother has a relationship
with her child before it is even born, has got to be crazy.
Anyone who thinks that biology is random ...plain old silly.

As my friends and I embark on our 'Fat Old Mom's Weekend" tonight, I am reflecting on what it MEANS to be a Mom. I remember the panic I felt before the birth of my first child, thinking, "This living, breathing human being has to come OUT of me, and it is going to be painful, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it." I knew that that child was bigger than any exit I had that was readily available, and I knew, without a doubt, that it would hurt. Of course, BEFORE I got pregnant, it didn't really dawn on me what would be involved. Can we ever be fully prepared?

At one point in our lives, my husband suggested that we have another child. I gently suggested that we adopt, since he had sugically removed that option from our list of possibilities. He insisted that he wanted me to be pregnant again because there was just 'something about the hospital experience'. Of course my eyebrows flew into my hairline, and I replied, "Apparently, yours was much different than mine!" When our son was born (and John was there, so I'm not sure how this escaped him), I was given an epidural in an attempt to ward off the pain. My mother had been watching 'Baby Story' on TLC and was convinced this was the way to go. She saw women happily eating ice cream while the monitor showed she had a contraction going on that would top the richter scale. This was NOT my story.

By the time the anesthesiologist got to me , I was too far advanced, but bless his heart, he tried anyway. As he rolled me forward to puncture my spinal column, the OB nurse was concerned about the BABY, and kept pushing me back to find his heartbeat (which was faltering). That guy was persistant though, and tried and tried and tried...until I had about 7 holes in my back (John did tell me that, because I was so out of it, I didn't even realize it!) So I could honestly say that the BIRTH of my son was not a very pleasant experience. This was coupled with the fact that he was 2 weeks late, and I hated that because ,ladies, I am not late for anything.

My point is, two people can be in the same place, at the same time, and have completely different experiences. John experienced the miracle of seeing his son born. I experienced an immense amount of pain, despite the fact that I too had just gone through the miracle of birth. When I sit in church on Sunday, I try to remember that MY experience is not everyone's experience. The words that stand out to me in the sermon may not speak to someone in the next pew...BUT, God meets us where we need Him to, when we need Him to. They may find their inspiration in the Children's message, or in the passing of the Peace. We need to tune into where our needs are being met, because God has promised He will meet them. Sometimes it is painful to get to that place, but the results are the same.

Our journeys are different. We are different. Our perceptions are different, but if our goal is the same, we will all bring that to the table in the end. I'm so glad to be a 'Fat Old Mom', even if it means that I got the stretch marks, the saggy boobs and the ample body. It was all worth it every time I hold my children.

the Mirror

As I spent hours this morning cutting apples and making 'asslsauce' for my family in mass quantities, I had the pleasure of listening to my Christian radio station. One of the songs called, "I Want To Be Beautiful" has a line in it that says, "trying to make the mirror happy." How many of us Fat Old Moms can relate to THAT?

As I have already confessed, I spend a great deal of time obssessing about my weight and how I look. I know it may not seem like it when you see me strut into the local grocery store with my hair up in a clip, dirty T-shirt and my Happy Feet slippers on, but I assure you that has more to do with a lack of time and planning than the fact that I don't care. It probably means I was in the middle of making a recipe and forgot I didn't have a key ingredient.

How much time have I spent exercising? How many hours have I stared at a make up mirror, plucking errant hairs from my eyebrows and chin? How many dollars have I spent on pills that guarantee that I will lose weight without effort? How many gallons of cream have I applied to my skin on order to make it more 'youthful and vibrant'?

WHY? Does it really matter? Does God care if we have won a beauty contest? Does God care if we know how to do the queenly wave and have the brightest smile? Does God care if our boobs are perky and our stomachs are flat? When we enter the gates of heaven, will there be a scale at the podium? Will the angel have a BMI chart to determine if we are worthy? Should I get my split ends trimmed before I die ....just in case?

I challenge you to think of the people you consider to be His most faithful servants and then think of how they LOOK. When I review the list I have in my head, I see them all as physically attractive....until I think about it from a worldy perspective. The people who shine brightest with God's light would not necessarily secure a modeling career with Ford modeling agency. Some of them are downright UNattractive according to the opinions of those who can't see them for who they are.

I have come to the conclusion that the reason I find them so gorgeous or handsome is because of who they are, not what they look like. I also know some knock outs who have no moral code, and I don't see them as very attractive at all! (For those who would like to explore this all in greater detail, rent the movie 'Shallow Hal" with Jack Black and Gwynneth Paltrow....its a MUST SEE!)

Whose mirror are you using? I assure you, the one the world uses is like a fun house mirror at a carnival. Depending on where you stand, the image shifts and changes. Sometimes its funny. Sometimes it downright disturbing. If you use the mirror God uses, it is flat and clean and gives you an accurate depiction of who you are. If you don't like the reflection, primp a little, lift your chin (it makes your neck look longer!), comb your hair and reflect the light of God, and when you stand up straight and look right into it, you will see a princess (or prince!) If God is our King, how could we be anything but royalty. Now go and practice your queenly wave, and SMILE!

Puzzling

Well- For some reason, I can't upload pictures today. The one I was trying to include was of my nephew when he was first born. He was 3 lbs 10 oz and has Down's Syndrome. When Jerimy was born, there were a lot of WHY's being thrown around. Why was he small? Why wasn't he thriving in utero? Why did he have Down's Syndrome? We never looked back. We dealt with the hand God had given us, and the answer to ALL of those questions is easily answered the moment you meet Jerimy, who is now a happy and healthy 13 year old boy. He brings joy. He smiles. He is affectionate. He is non-judgemental. His heart is pure and he injects something into our family no 'normal' child could. His function is clear.
As we go through life, we wonder how all of the fragmented pieces of pain and experience fit into the greater plan. I analyze what my life has been and I think of a puzzle. If you have ever worked a puzzle, you know that you always start with the border (at least I do in my little 'Monkish' way). In doing so, you provide yourself with a border...a reference point for where all of the other pieces will go. It gives you an idea of color scheme, size, and an idea of what you have to work with. I see my early church life as being this border. I have not been silent about how I feel about my old church family, and I am glad I have moved on, but they provided me with the basics. They gave me the frame to my puzzle. I knew about Jesus, and religion and how a church functions on a basic level
As I have lived through teenaged angst, a wild college period, some bad choices, I often wondered how those things all fit into this puzzle. By themselves, they didn't make sense. They just seemed like random puzzle pieces laying on the table. They didn't match any of the colors I found in the border....perhaps they were center pieces.
As I'm aging and working to put this puzzle all together, I see how they are connected to the pieces I am putting in now. The more pieces that go in, the more colorful the finished work becomes. I also see that there are no random pieces. They ALL belong. The ugly brown ones compliment the more beautiful pieces. They are there for a reason. Perhaps they provide depth to a more primary section. Perhaps the large section of 'black' that seemed all wrong for this puzzle now makes sense when it is snapped into place. Some of those earlier pieces attach a larger section to the border. All of it is connected; directly or indirectly. It is all part of me and who I am.
As the puzzle become more complete, it also becomes easier. I am more able to see where the pieces go because there aren't as many options for their placement. They fit easier. As I look and analyze and work it all together, it goes faster. When I ask a friend to help, that friend may show me ways to fit things together that I may not have seen by myself. I have learned the benefit of help. The idea of the finished work seem more obvious, because now I can see the canvas of color...the contrasting lights and darks...and I know, that with the guiding hand of God, when that last piece locks into place, the finished work will be glorious!