There Comes A Point

There comes a point in life :

• when you go out of your way - not for recognition, but out of genuine selflessness.
• when you do what's right - not for approval, but for peace.
• when you throw up your hands - not because you're giving up or quitting, but because you finally admit that you aren't in control.
• when you accept people and circumstances for who and what they are - not because you like them, but because you can't change them.
• when you stop passing judgement - not because you agree, but because your own heart needs cleansing.
• when you let go of fear - not because it's easy and not because you're brave, but because God's plan for your life is better than your own.
• when you seek God's will - regardless of what it is, or what it takes... not for any reservation but because serving Him has become the truest desire of your heart.
• when you choose to seek His kingdom first, because you realize that anything apart from that is earthly and temporary and it will fade away.

I'm at the crossroads. It feels good.

Wednesdays

I love Wednesdays... for a few reasons.

1) It's just me & the boys. Most weeks on Wednesday, we don't go anywhere. Most weeks on Wednesday, we don't get out of our jammies. We lounge, watch movies, snuggle, play. We do art projects, sometimes we bake, and we always have tons of fun.

2) It's my 'night off'. When Jon gets home from his internship at 5(ish), I leave. I do whatever I want, alone, for however long. Usually it's only about four hours, because as of late, I turn into a pumpkin after 9pm.

3) SAMmy's! SAMmy's = Strength Among Moms Ministry 6:30-8pm
I am blessed to be a part of this group on Wednesday nights. Moms (all ages, all stages of life) come together to walk alongside one another as we grow in our relationships with God. B-l-e-s-s-i-n-g. Totally.

It's fall! On this Wednesday, October 10th, 2012, I am feeling really blessed. Today, I have marveled at the blue sky, opened the windows and breathed in the fresh air, smiled at the pumpkins gracing each room in our house, ate some homemade pumpkin cranberry bread with some homemade pumpkin spice latte (recipe here: http://www.thekitchn.com/diy-pumpkin-spice-latte-96277. *I omit the vanilla.*) Noah danced around, strumming his out-of-tune guitar. Dawson climbed on things and made mess after mess. While Dawson napped, I did an art project with Noah. Tonight, I'm meeting a friend for coffee and then heading to SAMmy's. I might even go to Target afterwards. (That's what living on the edge looks like, incase you didn't know.) I thank God for all these blessings surrounding me.

Life is good. 

Escaping Alcatraz

For some reason, I thought Jon only had a half day at school today. WRONG. Today is his long day. How did I mess that up? I beg him to let me sleep in just for a little. He wakes me up at 9:15. He has to leave. I cry a little on the inside when I realize we have no regular coffee and I forgot to pick some up. I lock myself in the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Okay, I'm ready. Bring on the day.

I wash up the few remaining dishes in the sink- this HAS to be a priority in our house or else we will be buried in dirty dishes. I am going to do a cartwheel the day we purchase our first dishwasher. I might even kiss the salesman... depends on how frisky I'm feeling that day. (Cheek, of course... calm down.)

Anyway, Jon grabs our devotional book so we can speed read through it before he jets out of here and leaves me alone with these two monkey children. Today's devotional story was about a couple, so deeply in love, that they continually fill one another's love banks up to the brim by their loving actions. We can't help but laugh as Jon adds "before they had kids" to the end of each sentence. It's so true. We were like that, once. I think all couples are. Man, how these little people in our lives throw a wrench in the romance.

Quick kiss and he's out the door. Dawson is cranky (I would be too if I slept as awfully as he does. Wait, I do...). I play with the boys for a few. There's not much in the fridge; the fruit bowl on the counter begs to be filled. I'm planning on a trip to Aldi, but when? Now? After Dawson naps? I lay him down. He cries. Noah and I decide that we'll quietly work on a few puzzles while Dawson falls asleep. There isn't much that Noah enjoys doing solo yet, and it's exhausting. He gets frustrated so easily and I constantly have to give him the, "calm down, you can do it!" pep talk. I need that pep talk.

Anyway, Dawson should be napping by now, but he's not. He's too busy taking his diaper off and peeing all over his crib. I strip the mattress and decide that now would be the perfect time for Aldi. Kids dressed, in the car, ready to go. Don't forget your quarter! Man, I'd be lost without the quarter. Must have cart at Aldi, especially with two monkeys present.

Noah whines. I think- "Hey, I'll give him the quarter to hold onto for the short trip to Aldi and he'll feel super special". I warn him not to lose the quarter (we have less than a mile to go) or we won't be able to get a cart. I'm frustrated, as I somehow now am scrounging up PENNIES to replace the quarter Noah lost- probably as I told him how important it was NOT to lose the quarter. I search the car- no quarter. How does this happen? Did he eat it?!

I find enough change and ask a guy coming out if he'll give me his cart in return for the change. I blame the fact that I no longer have a quarter (I WAS prepared) on my child and he understands. (But does he really?) Thankfully, Aldi has TWO spots in the front of the cart. Perfect for two monkeys. Only problem with this scenario... Aldi carts do NOT have two buckles. In fact, there are no buckles. Thanks, Aldi. Now I have to attempt to shop while keeping climbing monkeys from falling out of the cart. Good grief.

We make it through the store and are in route to home. I peek at Noah in the rear-view mirror... the kid is tired. He yawns. I was going to give them lunch when we got home, but I think they're going straight to bed. Noah hasn't napped in almost a week and today, he is napping. Dawson falls asleep, Noah keeps talking. "Mommy, I have to pee. Mommy, I need to knit a sweater. Mommy, I'm hungry. Mommy, I broke my arm."  A-n-y-t-h-i-n-g to prolong the nap. What is wrong with this picture? Please, someone order me to nap. I. Will. Not. Refuse.

He's now in my bed, still stirring. He will nap. 

For now, I'm going to wash and cut up the fruit/veggies we bought at Aldi. I'm going to go into my room 63 times, telling Noah to get back into bed and lay down. I am going to choose to be thankful for this day. I am going to clean up the same mess for the millionth time. I am going to go in to my room, time #64 and threaten the wooden spoon. I am going to remember to eat something. I am going to dream of coffee and beat myself up for not swinging through Starbucks while I had them strapped in the car. I am going to pray for patience, and remind myself repeatedly just how young they are. I am going to eat chocolate. I'm going to pay bills and clean out the fridge... And at 5pm, when my handsome, loving, darling husband gets home, I'm bustin' out to my night off. Escaping Alcatraz. 

Where do you go to escape? Tonight, you'll find me at the library- cozy in a chair, Starbucks in hand, lost in a sea of books.

Thank you, God, for this day.

Tired Soul and All

I collapse into a huge pile of relief when he came through the door. "Daddy!" Little voices shriek. Finally. Focus off of me for at least a moment. I contemplated wearing earplugs today while doing the dishes just for a break from Noah's c-o-n-s-t-a-n-t chatter; nonstop since 7am and still going strong. He refused to nap and continued to talk my ear off until the moment Jon got home, his attention then shifted. I sigh. I can't bare another moment of whining. I can't stand another off-pitch note blown from that dumb little red recorder. My soul begs for a break. Just a moment of time that is mine.

They leave. All is quiet. He knew I needed that break... oh, how he knew. It's 5:39 and I didn't even make dinner. I re-heat leftovers from last night. I forget to breathe between bites... I'm so hungry. Did I even eat today? And what will the kids eat for dinner? What about Jon? I packed some whole grain muffins- that's enough until they get home. (Right?) Brain reels on. Spinning, spinning, spinning. Never stops.

The laundry is piled high- overflowing. I count the hours left until bedtime... how much can I accomplish? I've been going all day and I'm tired. I crave sleep... a good eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. A week of good sleep and I'm afraid of what I'd be capable of. Move a mountain? Sure.

You give and give and give of yourself as a mother. You trade in your soul for the role of so many others. Cook, maid, nurse, teacher, supervisor, nutritionist, referee, clown...  I used to be so passionate about so many things- the fire now dim (but it's still burning, somehow) and I can almost imagine how a slave must feel, hands worn and body aching. Work, work, work. It shouldn't feel like this, motherhood. It's a gift. Gifts shouldn't feel like this.

In the moments of peace, when it's just my thoughts and I, I am overcome with overwhelm. There's so much to do. At the end of the day, when all is said and done, I am still me and I'm not even sure what that means anymore. I think back to the days when it was just me and the world was mine. My dreams were right there at my fingertips and bearing children has ripped them right out of my grasp. The focus is no longer me, but I now come last. God, spouse, children, me. How can I possibly have time for me when I'm last on the list? Who am I? There has to be more than this...

Sing, read, write, create. Some of my closest friends and family have never even heard me sing. I have piles of books that I fear I'll never get through. These things must continue to simmer on the back burner until life gives me the "okay" to bring them to a boil once again. Contempt, anger, resentment. These things used to make me happy. These things, not by my choice, have to wait. My happiness has to wait.

Sometimes we try so hard to find happiness elsewhere that we fail to recognize how much happiness is right in front of our own eyes.

Change of perspective. You know, the moment where life kicks you right in the butt with the reality of how good you really have it and how blessed you really are? You read about someone else's tragedy and you are overcome with thanksgiving. You are filled with guilt. You are selfish. You feel stupid for complaining about anything and you feel blind for not being able to see all of this on your own.

God's timing is perfect. He is never late. His plan for my life is better than anything I could ever come up with on my own.

Me? I'm a writer, a singer, an artist. Right now, I don't have as much time as I'd like to pursue these things. Why? Not because I'm a slave, but because I'm the most important person in the world to two little boys. Because I am the wife of a man that loves me unconditionally. Because these two things are what God knew would make me the happiest. These two things are what God knew would bring me the most joy.

And in the times of frustration, I slip away into a quiet and dark place and regain perspective. I pray. I ask God for his grace. This isn't easy. This is something I have to do over and over again every single day. Every. Single. Day.

God's grace is sufficient. He renews me when I want to jump out the window. He restores me when I feel like there's no hope. He takes the blindfold of life away from my eyes to reveal His many blessings that I so often overlook on my quest for something greater.

Time and time again, He shows me that it doesn't get any greater than this- right here, right now... 

That this is my life: mommy and wife and anything beyond those two things... anything extra is a bonus (a blessing). My life is full of joy- pure joy right in front of my very eyes- whining, off-pitch notes, guilt, unshaven legs, tired soul and all...

Make the Moments Count

Every night, we have the same routine. I make dinner, we eat as a family, and then Jon gives the boys a "tubby" while I clean up the kitchen. We brush teeth, say prayers, and turn the lights out. Some nights (and these are few and far between) the boys stay in bed and stay somewhat quiet as they drift off to sleep. Most nights, they do not. Most nights, Noah comes out several times. Most nights, Noah keeps Dawson awake. Some nights, it's easier to just let Noah sleep in our bed (guilty!). Regardless, the whole process is always rushed. I read somewhere that you should make bedtime "exciting!" so that your kids will anticipate the process. Really? I have been with them all day. I haven't had much of a break. I'm tired. I just don't want to drag bedtime out into anything more than I absolute have to. Bare minimum. How selfish.

Last night, after dinner was over. I didn't clean up the kitchen right away. In fact... there are still a few dishes in the sink. Crumbs still grace the floor. Jon gave the kids a tubby, and instead of rushing them to bed, we did something we should do a lot more often around here.

God spoke:

"Slow down. Make the moments count."

We listened.

We sat on the floor of the boys' room and read out of their devotional book. We let them jump on the bed. I sat and watched as Daddy wrestled with his boys. I snapped photos. I watched the pure joy in their faces. I watched the pure joy in my husband's face. I felt myself relax. I let myself relax. I laughed harder than I have in a while. I felt content. I felt God's presence. I left the mess in the kitchen. I slowed down. I said "yes" to seizing the opportunity and making the moment count.

And guess what?

It was totally worth it.



The boys are napping now. I guess I'll clean up the kitchen... 

The Story of Us

I remember the day like it was yesterday. It was the summer of 2000 in the month of June. Our van pulled up to a group of teenagers, anxiously awaiting to meet us. It was my very first mission trip. I wasn't sure what to expect- I knew the week would be full of new friendships, hard work, and lots of serving. I expected life-change. I expected gratitude.

I remember seeing him- I was drawn to his long hair and skateboard. I remember secretly hoping we were assigned to the same work site and I remember rejoicing internally when his name was called after mine. A crush. I didn't even know him, yet I was somehow drawn to him. A fourteen-year-old crush with a boy I'd never see again. (What was the point of that?)

We spent the week in West Hamlin, West Virginia at Jim's house. We wore bright yellow tarps in the rain. We scraped paint off the tired old house. I held his ladder and we refreshed the house as God refreshed our souls. We laughed and goofed around. We worked hard. We ate watermelon and venison (my first time). Friendships were formed. God met us there.

At night, we'd retire back and have dinner as a group. Fellowship. Praise and worship. We'd check our "Happy Fun Notes" bag. I never had a Happy Fun Note from him.

In the morning, we'd have quiet time. I'd sit on the porch, bundled, watching him. I'd watch him skate and I'd blush. I liked him. My first real teenage crush.

The week came to a close and we said our goodbyes. I left him a Happy Fun Note with my contact info. I felt silly for ever even having a crush on a boy that lived all the way in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. (Really, what was the point of that?)

Summer ended and high school began. I thought about him. I'd get crazy butterflies every time his screen name would pop up in my instant messenger. E-v-e-r-y time. We'd chat- mostly about the weather. I wrote in my journal about him. I wished he knew how I really felt. I wish I knew how he really felt.

Years passed. I graduated in 2003 and left for Bolivia- my fourth mission trip. I came back and spent time with my friends at concerts and parties. I started school- Keiser University online. I battled serious depression. I drank a lot of alcohol and kissed a lot of boys. 

But I always thought of him.

I then found myself in a very dysfunctional relationship- unhealthy in every sense. He was a drummer. A drug addict. He craved women. I was "different". Our relationship wasn't very physical- we had a connection. He made me feel beautiful. He was "different" and I fell hard. And, in a matter of months, he destroyed me. I felt hopeless. How do you recover from something like that? All self-confidence had been completely squashed. Oh, you had another girlfriend the whole time we were dating? You broke up with her and took too many pills. You were vomiting blood and seizing. You laid there in bed that night and told me that I deserved more, yet I still didn't believe you. I was brain-washed. You ruined me. Why didn't I listen to your friends?

But I always thought of him.

I was online and I saw his name sign on. He asked me for my phone number. What? It had been five years since that West Virginia trip. I didn't answer the first time he called. Fear. Is this really the same boy? We spent hours on the phone getting to know each other. He liked me. He liked me on that trip. I was hesitant to open up. Why didn't he leave me a Happy Fun Note? We were fourteen.

After a few months of talking, I bought us each a plane ticket to Bethlehem, PA. My mom lived there and we were going to stay with her for two weeks. I was in love with this boy and I hadn't seen him in five years. What if we saw each other and the connection wasn't there? It was there on the phone... but in person? I hugged him tightly at the airport. I knew that I was going to marry this boy.

After our visit, he went back to Wisconsin and I went back to Florida. We spent a few weeks apart until he packed his bags and took a Greyhound bus (36+ hours) to meet me. We loaded my car (cat included) and moved ourselves to Bethlehem to start our new life. We spent a year in Bethlehem and then he was offered a spot in an upcoming band out of North Dakota. We moved to Eau Claire and in with his parents. I wanted a commitment. I was living in his parent's basement and I wanted a commitment before he left me there to pursue playing drums for a band in North Dakota. I picked out the ring. It was just like my Grandma's. On August 15, 2006 (exactly one year after we started dating) he asked me to be his forever. (Was this really the same boy from West Hamlin, West Virginia?)

After weeks in North Dakota, he came home. We planned a wedding. Four months later, on December 2nd, 2006, we were married. 'Til death do us part.

Grandma got sick. We moved back to Bethlehem. Grandma went to be with Jesus. My heart broke into a million pieces.

In 2009, we welcomed Noah Landon Krause.

Two years later, in 2011, we welcomed Dawson Oliver.

There is no greater joy.

Our time together as a couple slowly became something of the past as we embarked on the new journey of being parents. We were tired and we were frustrated. We started counseling. We almost gave up. How is it possible to love someone from the very depth of your soul and resent them at the same time? There were expectations and disappointments. There was betrayal. Forgiveness. Passion and pain. We have experienced, over the last seven years, just how hard it is to join two people from completely different backgrounds into a loving and thriving marriage. There has been laughter and so, so many tears. Sorrow, grief, and unconditional love. Grace- so much grace. There has been anger and control and letting go. There have been hands gripped so tightly to a marriage severing before our very eyes. There have been threats, hurtful words, an abundance of selfishness, and building high emotional walls... towers. Forgiveness. There has been hope and hopelessness. Insecurities and pride. Sacrifice.  

It has been hard- harder than I ever imagined or dreamed that it would be. 

It also has been solely, hands-down, thee greatest thing to ever grace my life. 

In the process, I have found myself. He has brought out the very best in me.

Together, we have found what it means to have the marriage God has truly intended for us to have. 

What a journey it has been and continues to be.

I love you, Jonathan Craig Krause, my fourteen-year-old crush.

Rest.

Mid-June, I found a lump behind my ear. After several opinions, and weeks on end of  "watching and waiting", we were still unsure of what the lump actually was. The most recent doctor I had been following up with was sure it was a lymph node. The fact that the lump was still present after eight weeks warranted a  referral to an ENT with a diagnosis of lymphadenopathy. I chose to see the same ENT that removed Noah's adenoids several months back. After consulting with him, he felt confident that the lump was a cyst (sebaceous), but that we wouldn't know for sure unless we removed it. My other option was to wait and watch... I chose to remove it. Here we are.

I had surgery yesterday morning. Doc says he got it and took some surrounding tissue as well. Sent it off to the lab and I'll follow up with him on September 7th. This is the hardest part of all for me... waiting. Was it just a cyst? Is it something more? I used to play that game... the "What If" game, as my husband calls it. I won't be taking part in the What If game this time. I am putting my full trust in the will of God.

There is an incision behind my left ear, diagonal (following the back of my ear) that is about an inch and a half long, closed up with fourteen stitches. Thankfully, I'm not in too much pain. My mom was here today and yesterday while Jon was at school. Jon will be here this weekend, and I'm hoping that by Sunday I'm feeling close to normal. I'm exhausted and queasy and lethargic. I just want to lay around, which is expected. I can't lift anything too heavy (babies included) for a while. When I turn my head to the right, it feels like the skin behind my ear is going to rip.

I wasn't looking forward to this part- having to go under a knife and have anesthesia. Having to wait for over a week for results. Not being able to carry my kids and carry on with my every day life. What I was looking forward to, however, was the rest that would come along with it all.

My body, mind, spirit and soul needs this rest.

Thank God for my mom and all she has done and continues to do for our family. After being with the kids for the past two days and truly experiencing firsthand how absolutely defiant Noah can be (and how whiny Dawson can be), she said something that she's said before but for some reason, this time, it was like music to my ears. 

"I don't know how you do it."

I don't need an award. I don't need constant recognition. I know that all moms go through this. I know that it's not easy and it's what I wanted and it's the path God has mapped out for me. I know that it's the most sacrificial job there is and that a lot of days the things I do will go unnoticed. I'm okay with that. I just needed a reminder that I'm doing a good job, and that's exactly what she gave to me. Thank you, Mom. Thank you for letting me lay in bed and for taking care of the kids. Thank you for always being there. Thank you for reminding me that I'm doing the best that I can and that that is enough.