Special Kids

Christmas Muse

Because tonight I’m missing Kierra. Five years ago this was us. Snowy Christmas was here  and we stayed warm by our fire and played with babies and fed bottles and changed diapers and drank coffee. I had no idea that Christmas season how life would change in the next year. I had no clue that just around the corner was looming some pretty hard, life changing events. It was a season and it’s gone. I miss it. Kobe was only 4 months old when Kierra became a ‘frequent flyer’ at the hospital. 

Now he’s five and Kierra has been in Heaven for nearly three long years. 

Call me a pushover mom. That’s what I feel like with my little Kobe sometimes. When he begs for one more candy this Christmas or one more game, I have a really hard time saying No. Its those blue eyes and the logic he always throws in . I have a really hard time setting boundaries and telling him to play by himself for awhile because I remember how I felt when my older siblings wouldn’t play with me when I was little. I remember my little girl that would be 6 and I wonder what she would like to play right now. I remember all the days I missed watching Kobe grow and all the times I missed playing lighthearted baby games and talking gibberish to him. I want to love  him and hold him and cherish him.

 Can a mother drown a child in love? 

And then I wonder if my tolerance has made him soft. For instance, while his taste buds are quite amazing and his critiques of my cooking make me laugh, there’s also a point where you eat what’s on your plate and don’t make a fuss because there is less sugar then one remembers. Take for instance, this amazing rolled pancake at Paul’s Pancake Parlor in Missoula. 

He’s still remembering it and wishing for another one πŸ˜‰ And do mine taste like that? No way …because I don’t see the point in making a sugar loaded pancake for a sweet tooth  πŸ™‚ except for on very special occassions. So when I use heavy whipping  cream and raspberries and don’t add sugar, it’s such a disappointment because it DOESNT TASTE THE SAME! lol! But now I’m way off subject. 

I find myself wanting to lavish on him partly because I can’t on Kierra. I wonder if he’s spoiled. 

Now don’t get me wrong. I get frustrated. Seriously. And then he goes through his list of questions which doesn’t always help my mood. “Mom, are you frustrated? Are you angry? Are you disappointed? Are you sad? Are you happy?” Seriously. It’s not always fun to be interrogated by a five year old when your not sure exactly how you feel yourself. But yes, I am thankful he’s talking about feelings and dealing with them πŸ˜‰ 

When he finds fault with every item I cook it’s a bit too much πŸ˜‰ sometimes.  I told him today that he didn’t like anything I made today (except candy. Lol) and he looked surprised and a bit embarrassed and promised to eat the rest of his food without a fuss. 

He came up to me and told me he has the best gift yet and he gave me a kiss on my cheek. See why I love him?  πŸ˜

Now where am I going with this? 

I rocked him to sleep tonight. Seriously. Would  I do that if I had three kids under 5? Most likely not. But I did because I could. He filled up my lap and the rocking chair and even if it wasn’t too comfy on my expanding belly, I couldn’t help myself. He was so cute and cuddly and Kobe. He was so delighted to be cuddled. His face is taking on a young boy look. His baby chin is getting square and his grin more handsome then cute. And I know in a blink he will be too big to hold. So I love him the way I know he wants to be loved. Cuddling and songs and snuggles against my soft Christmas sweater. 

I’m still trying to find the happy medium in gently pushing him a bit toward independence and still loving him as my little boy. (For example, He went to sleep on his own for years when he was younger and he still does many times. But I know time doesn’t stand still and we are not promised tomorrow night so tonight, i rocked) 

I’m not exactly sure of all the dynamics of what healthy independence looks like but I do know I am so blessed that he is ours. To have a child that I can tuck into bed at night. To be called ‘Mom’ and to be loved. 

I miss my little girl tonight. I sit and dream about holding her again. I dream about gifts for two children and hugs and snuggles with two and the happiness and joy I got to experience with two babies for three Christmas’ in a row. I’m so privileged to have another small one, nudging inside me, reminding me that what I think isn’t possible can be real and alive. 

Death cannot take our memories or our love. 

It can change us but it can’t extinguish the flame of hope and peace that Jesus brings. And though ‘a spear shall pierce thine own heart’ was prophecied to Mary, so long ago, she still loved. She still gave. She still believed. 

No matter what spear has pierced your heart this year, my friend, my prayer for you is that the healing of this Christ -who became Flesh AND DWELT AMONG US… will be upon you. That it will run straight over the wounds this life has left. That it will bring mercy and grace and beauty will rise out of the broken. He came for us, you know. Us….who need a Saviour. 

Thank you, Jesus! πŸŽπŸ’žπŸ’


Be A ChildΒ 

It’s getting late but sleep hasn’t found me yet. I haven’t written in a long time. I know. I keep shoving it off. Thinking that eventually I will find my voice again. Call it processing life or writers block or busy holidays or laziness. Whatever it was…I’m back. Because when I can write, I feel alive. Life makes more sense. 

I have a whole huge Rubbermaid tote of journals (plus more πŸ˜‰) that I poured my heart out in as I grew up. I remember my very first tiny journal with the cute cat and the clasp lock and the purple binding. I was 8 years old and it was a dream birthday gift that I adored. I still have it. When I was eight, my journal and my rollerskates were my favorite things. I felt alive when I flew down the country road on those skates. I felt deep happiness and thrills when I stroked the gold gilted  journal pages. It was fun to be eight! 

A kid at heart. Growing up among animals and creeks and a whole farm to play on . Dreaming of fresh strawberry pie with mounds of whipped cream. Sitting in my favorite magnolia tree with the perfect y shaped branch that cradled my little self. It was there that I dreamed dreams of rescuing babies and wrote poems about nature. 

Tonight spoke deeply to my heart. Pastor Steve spoke about children. About how we place kids in a box by thinking they will eventually grow up and be the people that make a difference. Like they are on some kind of probation until they get it all together and figured out. But God told Isaiah…”Don’t say that I am just a child….you will go where I send you!” We NEVER have to figure it all out before we can bring God glory!  

You are not ‘just a child either’. In fact, Jesus said the ONLY way to get to heaven is to become as little children. Pastor Steve gave a wonderful example of this by having a whole group of kids gather at the front of the church. He asked them questions, since they are the MASTERMIND of QUESTIONS! πŸ˜„ They were so honest. So innocent. So point blank and uncomplicated in their answers. No agenda or hidden meanings. No fear of saying the wrong thing or embarresment that their favorite thing about Christmas was gifts😊 And yes, Jesus was of course mentioned as well πŸ‘

Then they sang a beautiful song for us. Now I know that every mother immediately looks for her child in a group. That her heart does this crazy little happy dance when their eyes meet. But when I saw my little Kobe up there, my heart did all these crazy jumps. Because, you see, he was our surprise child. Our miracle baby. His was the first voice I heard call me Momma. His were the first steps I watched wobble across the floor. It hurt at the same time because his older sister can’t show me the wonder of it until we get to Heaven. While she should have been the first to show me these things, God created her for a different kind of wonder and glory. Her life was a pure, living testimony of God’s love. And she was so wonderfully beautiful! She was so good at it! 

I sat there, weeping through the song. Wishing Kierra could be up there with him. Wishing he had a sister to share Christmas joy with. I wept because he could just as well have been nonverbal and held in my arms tonight. He could have never taken a step, or lifted one hand to heaven in worship. But he was singing and worshiping God with his little hands raised high as he sang. He was alive and moving and smiling and standing proudly with his friends. While part of me wept for what Kierra will never do here on earth, another part of me wept with happiness for him and the miracle I was watching right before my eyes. Our child. Was lifting his eyes to heaven and praising His Creator. 

//Come all ye faithful

See the love, see the grace

That is born unto us tonight

Come all ye broken
See the love see the hope

That restores everything that’s been lost
In the silence of the night,

All the stars bow down
Hear the angels sing?

Jesus Christ is born unto us this day
Hope has come to us tonight

Death is drowned out by His light
Hope is here and He’s alive

Takes our pain and lifts our eyes
Come all ye weary

See the peace see the joy

That’s been born unto us tonight
Come sons and daughters and rejoice in His love
For in His name the world will find its hope
In the silnece of the night,

All the stars bow down
Hear the angels sing?

Hallelujah! //-by Generation Unleashed.

I like to think Kierra listened from Heaven and even joined him. I like to think she smiled and danced and twirled in joy. If she could see me now, I think she would show me how she worships. How her pure child heart is exactly what Heaven needed. How her glory brings God glory. 

I hold this truth close to my heart. Be you. Bring glory to God in whatever way He has created you.

Be simple. Be real. Never stop asking and marveling in wonder. Be a child.