"I will hold myself to a standard of grace, not perfection."

I can be quite the perfectionist. Must be perfect or I must not be doing my job correctly, right? Combine this and a minor (okay, maybe moderate) case of OCD when it comes to cleaning, and there you have it. Me.

For a long time, I had these high expectations of myself. I mean, really high. Unattainable. I wanted the house  to be perfect all the time. I sacrificed spending quality time with my kids to clean. True story. I still do it, occasionally, and I catch myself. What am I doing? Is this what I want? I don't agree with a ton of TV time, yet I was finding myself letting the kids watch episode after episode so I could "get things done". I ran myself into the ground. I was miserable on the inside. 

I am a very stubborn person- I know this about myself. It's hard for me to accept help (even from my own husband), because I want things done a certain way. If they weren't done the way I'd do them myself, I'd re-do them. Who does that? What sane person does that? Me.

Do you know what happens when you choose cleaning over spending time with your kids? You end up with a neat and tidy living space, and kids who are acting out because they're starved for your attention. 

It's easy to become overwhelmed with everything that needs to get done. I get it. Really, I do. But, at the end of the day, what really matters? Does it matter that all of your closets were cleaned out and reorganized, or does it matter than you made an existing mess in the kitchen even bigger by letting your kids finger paint? I'll let you decide that one for yourself. Just watch the joy in their faces. The answer isn't hard.

My mom always told me that one day, the fingerprints won't be there anymore and I will miss them. Think of the truth in that. One day, when my kids are gone and our nest is empty, I will crave the days when I could've spent less time cleaning, and more time enjoying these beautiful children of mine. The mess will always be there, at least for the next sixteen years. Don't waste precious time.

I've chosen to hold myself to a standard of grace and not perfection. I will let the dishes pile and the laundry baskets overflow if that means I will spend more time with my children. I will overlook the small things and keep the big picture in mind: my kids are growing up so fast before my very eyes. When I think I've hugged them enough for the day, I'll hug them once more. When I have absolutely no energy within my being to read "just one more" story at bedtime, I will ask God for his grace. When I feel the urge to ditch the dishes and snuggle my babies instead... I will. 

I want to make each day count.

Now, I know that it's unrealistic to let everything go and spend every waking moment with your kids, nor do I want to do that. I need me-time, I need a break, and let's face it, meals need to be cooked, laundry needs to be washed, dishes need to be done. Toilets scrubbed, bedding changed, dust, vacuum, repeat. It won't get done on its own and there is no maid coming. 

What I'm trying to say is simply this: it's okay if our house isn't perfect. It's okay. It's okay if I don't stay on top of things all the time. 

Sometimes, things need to get a little bit messy in order for my heart to be made clean. 

And I have to let it. I have to surrender control. I'm finally okay with that.

Thank you, God, for making me clean.

New beginnings!

Today is Friday, August 24, 2012.

This means a few things:

1) The weekend is here!
2) This is our last full weekday of having Daddy home. Back to school on Monday!
3) In four short months, Jon will be graduating.

I am thankful for new beginnings. Last semester wasn't too bad- summer was slowly creeping up on us and things were warming up. We were able to get out of the house because of that and because Dawson was a little less mobile and a little less of a handful. This semester, however, will be drastically different- fall into winter, cold weather, stuck inside, not a ton to do. And let's face it- my kids, as beautiful and precious as they are, are NOT fun to take pretty much anywhere solo right now. 

Noah is three and a ball of energy (as kids his age should be). I've seen him "mature" over the past few months as he continues to become a lot more self-sufficient. Nevertheless, he still is not nice to his brother in the least and I can't leave the two of them alone for long. Tell-tale sign of your child getting into trouble= awkward silence. Calm before the storm. Silence before tears. Wait for it... it's coming. Here it comes! Yep, he did something awful to his brother. Dawson cries. I can almost pinpoint the action (pushing, hitting, laying on top of/crushing, smothering) depending on the time of day and what room they're in. It's getting ridiculous. I am excited for the day that Dawson can hold his own.

Speaking of which, Dawson, my little angel boy (although he still carries that title) is not a joy during most outings these days. He's still napping twice during the day, so trying to plan a family outing without running into a nap time is near impossible. He hates being in the car, a shopping cart, stroller, etc. The kid HATES to be constrained. 

I have learned a few things this summer- things I already knew, but things I didn't do or didn't do quite often enough. Let's just call this list my New Semester Resolutions. Nice ring.

1) Go grocery shopping (or any kind of shopping, for that matter) a-l-o-n-e. 

It's one thing to take the kids to a store to roam around aimlessly, but DO NOT DO IT if I need to get any sort of shopping done. Don't do it- unless I only need ONE thing, I can manage one thing. (Or can I? Story to follow...)

Before I get to point #2, here's a quick little story.

The other day, we head to Target (this is very typical for our family). We enter Starbucks (YES!) to get a pick-me-up. Dawson's in the cart, and Noah's with Jon. Jon tells me he's heading over to the bakery to get the boys cookies (yes, we bribe them when needed) and I thought for sure that he was taking Noah along. He comes back, cookies in hand and asks, "Where's Noah?" Feeling the panic start to settle in, I assume that the barista at Starbucks won't mind babysitting for Dawson as I frantically run around Target yelling for my child. We find him, not too far away, wandering. I swear... this kid would be just fine if we left him. You know the old, "Well, we're leaving, so you better come with us!" and-then-hide-so-he-thinks you're-gone trick? Yeah, well, that doesn't work on Noah. He'd be fine with that. I'm sure he'd spend hours in the toy department and then clear out the candy aisle before realizing we were no longer there. I thank the Starbucks girl for watching Dawson without any warning/consideration on my behalf. I jokingly tell her that I wish she could add a shot of Kahlua into that drink she's making for us... and then on a serious note, I ask her to at least add a shot of espresso. Grab the drink, good to go. We continue on, trying to get a few things that we need. Now- Jon and I are BOTH THERE. You would think this would be easy, right? One kid per parent. WRONG. After a few short minutes of Dawson's constant whining and having to talk Noah into getting up from his tantrum on the floor, we were out of there, empty-handed. Nothing at that point was worth enduring another second of how awful our kids were being. Nada.

2) I need a break.

At least a good four hour block of time, alone, every week to do whatever I want. We'll resume our "nights" this semester- we'll each take one night a week to go out for around four hours to do whatever we feel like doing. (I've had to come to terms with the fact that Jon DOES need a break, too, and although his really isn't from the kids (because he's gone all week at school), he really does still need the break.) Often, I would use my night to run errands or get some things done, but that is a bigggggggg, big no-no. This semester, I vow to use my night as time to do something FOR ME and for me only. Jon usually spends his time taking pictures. I spent a lot of my time getting groceries or other things, dropping this off here, picking this up there... and although it is okay to make a stop or two along the way, my whole time was spent doing things I needed to get done for the sake of our family, and I would return home feeling like I never really got the break I needed (so, so badly).

3) We thrive on a schedule. 

We spent our summer the way my husband is wired- flying by the seat of our pants. Yes, it was fun... it truly was, but I was just reminded of how badly our family needs structure. I have to plan meals. I have to stay on top of the bills and other paperwork. I need a cleaning schedule. My kids need a routine (naps/bedtime). We need scheduled date nights. 

A schedule, aside from being something I personally need, is something that helps our family thrive. Life is so much more organized and well-balanced when things get done on time and are maintained. This summer has been a whole lot of letting things go and trying to get caught up. And you know what that means, right? We're still not caught up. Now, I'm not expecting perfection- I know this is not realistic with a 3-year-old and 16-month-old. However, I do desire a schedule and being able to stay on top of things instead of drowning in  my to-do lists. 

4) I need God. Every day.

Quiet time has always been a struggle for me- even before kids. Quiet time now... forget it! My kids are my alarm clock every morning and keep me so busy all day that by the time I finally get them in bed, I want to do nothing more than sit somewhere and stare at a wall (or sit in a corner and rock back and forth... depends on the day, really). But in all seriousness, I have given up on expecting to have this amazing, peaceful, uninterrupted, scripture-centered time to start my day, every single day. That's not realistic at this point in my life, but that doesn't mean that I can't spend time with God. 

Here is how I will spend time with God this semester:

- Get kids situated, and turn on some praise & worship. There is nothing better for a stressed out mom than singing along with David Crowder while doing the dishes. (He's my fave.) It's like as I wash the dishes, I wash away anything ungodly. This doesn't mean that the rest of my day goes smoothly and perfectly, but I recognize this, and the fact that I need to either start my day off centered on Him or re-focus and re-center myself on Him throughout the day. 

- Find something for the kids to do and slip away for 5 minutes to read a devotion. Five minutes. That is totally doable.

- Pray. Pray, pray, pray. Give thanks. Give an abundance of thanks for the abundance of blessings in my life.

5) I need less time on Facebook/pinterest/the internet in general, and more time reading.

I have a long, long list of books I've been given, gifted, or books I've bought for myself. Amazing books... books that will change my life! I have not made time for them. I love to read, but I've realized that I can't do it before bed if I truly want to retain the contents. (Brain shuts down at about... 8pm.) And I've learned, time and time again, that these books are far more important & interesting than ANYTHING on Facebook. (Sorry guys, true story.)

And there you have it. The list goes on- there are always things I want to improve/change, but this is a good start. I am going to embrace this semester as time for us to grow as a family and individually. God is doing big things! I'm excited. And I'm ever thankful for new beginnings, especially the new beginnings (each and every day) found in Christ.



"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come." - 2 Corinthians 5:17

My life is just right for me.

I always come into this wanting to write a long, elaborate, heartfelt, tear-filled post about something significant to share with the world (or just my facebook friends). My fingers can't keep up with my brain and I am left frustrated- not knowing how to get my thoughts out in a way that would make even the slightest bit of sense. So, I'll say what I know for sure- without a doubt, what is fresh and ever present in my mind, what needs no rough draft.

Every valid point, every thought-provoking instance that leads me to the keyboard to type- always, ALWAYS results with one invariable truth: our God is good, I am undeserving of His love, I am trying my best, I continually fall short, His grace is sufficient, I am truly blessed.

I was smacked in the face with renewed perspective this afternoon after a very hard and trying morning in our house. As I sat there, on the library floor, Noah in my lap, Bible stories in hand, I was overcome with emotion (straight from God- no other source). This is my life. As hard as it can be, it is just right for me. I've given up a lot to be here, and I'm no where near where I desire to be, but I'm headed in that direction and God is leading me the entire way...

All of His glory.

Nothing annoys me more than having to face and clean a completely disastrous kitchen after Battle of Bedtime. It seriously irks me to-the-core. Where do I even start? I contemplate how many hours of my life I will spend in the kitchen, watching my nights dwindle away as I scrub away- wiping counters and cleaning up messes instead of snuggling up to my husband. I wonder how my kids seem to get more food on the floor (and the walls) than they do into their mouths. I dream of what it will be like to have a dishwasher someday. Such is the life of a stay-at-home mom who prepares three meals (and at least two snacks) a day. Not enough time during the day equals more than enough dishes after dinner. How did we manage to use this many forks? I wonder this but am reminded as I have flashbacks of forks being dropped and forks being mischievously thrown. Instead of washing the fork each time it's thrown on the floor, I get new forks... hence the countless dirty forks awaiting to be washed at the end of each day.

This mama is tired. Everything about this mama screams tired. Tired hands fold overdue laundry and wipe the tears of overtired children. Tired eyes watch the clock as it creeps by. Only five more tired hours until Battle of Bedtime. The thought is so tiring. Tired legs keep moving my tired body to clean up the same mess over and over again. I've lost myself, somewhere, in the sea of parenting. I used to be fun and outgoing. I had hopes and dreams, passions, hobbies, interests. Now I dream of days where I can shave my legs or paint my toenails in peace without feeling guilty about taking too much time for myself. "It will get better", I hear this a lot. Yes, it has to. My one-year-old and two(soon to be three)-year-old will get older and become more independent. They'll need me less, and I'll grieve over that. But for now, in the thick of it, it is hard. It is sucking the very life right out of me each and every day.

I strive, with everything within me, to remain patient and loving throughout the day. I have to remind myself that my two(almost three)-year-old is just that- no matter how many times he tells me "no" or slams the door in my face. No matter how many times he disobeys or talks back (oh, and he does...), he is only going to be three and this comes with the territory. Terrible two will soon turn into terrible three with this child- my strong-willed, stubborn, hard-headed child. The open-ended patience I so strongly desire to have is soon overcome by my own strong will. As my patience stretches thin, I am short-tempered and shutting down, longing for the hour I'll be able to sink into the couch and stare at the wall, knowing the wall will ask nothing of me. I am disappointed in myself. I cry out to God for help, asking what more I can do and what I need to change. I'm doing the best that I can.

And then grace steps in.

"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, 
 for his compassions never fail.
 They are new every morning; 
 great is your faithfulness."

And I am brought to my knees.

How beautiful, the picture painted through that scripture. Each night, our slate is wiped clean. Each morning, his mercies are new. There is no tally, no scoreboard that is keeping track of each time I spoke too sternly, angered too quickly, was worn thin too easily.

"They are new every morning- Day and night proclaim the mercy and compassion of God. Who could exist throughout the day, if there were not a continual superintending Providence? Who could be preserved in the night if the Watchman of Israel ever slumbered or slept?" (Adam Clarke- Commentary on the Bible)

And it is then that I am reminded that I'm not doing this on my own. I will continue to do the best that I can. I will strive to make each day better and I will let Him do the rest.

I will let me be me in all of my imperfections, and I will let God be God, in all of his glory.

Clarity in chaos.

As I sit here, thoughts racing, contemplating the past few weeks/months of our life as a Krause family, I am overcome with emotion. It's been quite a ride and I've learned more than I thought I could in such a short amount of time. As with anything good, there is bad- with the joy, I still feel pain, with the rejoicing, there is still sorrow. I'm sad and I'm hurt by things said and perceptions misconstrued. I have come to accept the things that will not change, and I have come to terms with the things that I need to change within myself. I have sought out forgiveness and shown an abundance of grace. I have stopped myself in my tracks, patience worn thin, to remind myself of a million things: how quickly my kids will grow, how short our time here on Earth really is, how to not have expectations- not just because people will disappoint (and they will), but because I have not yet met or exceeded the expectations I have for myself. I've been reminded how faithful God is and how much he loves me, even in my ugliest moments when I'm so completely unlovable. I've seen how much my marriage has grown once I gave it sufficient water, sunlight and enough room to thrive. I've stopped placing the blame on everyone else and have really looked into myself- into my soul and at the things that I need to change. (It takes change to see change.) I know now that others' opinions are just that, and at the end of the day, I am choosing to do what is right and I am proud of that. This is hard, but God is faithful. I am not perfect, but his power is made perfect in each and every one of my weaknesses. I am so completely content in the direction I'm heading. I can't wait to see what God has in store next for our family!

It will be my joy to say, "Your will, Your way".

I woke up this morning with a throbbing headache. As my feet hit the floor, I was slapped in the face with reality. Today it became very real. My day has been full of ups and downs, sweet moments and some of the saddest moments I have ever felt. My heart aches. There is no other way to describe it. My heart aches so badly.

This little being, although so small, has already had such a huge impact on our family. I continually have to pick myself up over and over again each time I mention the baby or future plans that we no longer have. "Honey, what do you think of this name?" It just came out, and all I could do was cry. You don't realize the things you'll have to face, and how hard it will be to face even the simplest- calling your landlord and telling them you no longer need a three bedroom, coming to the realization that it's okay if we wait a little longer to get that minivan. You have no choice but to accept that right now, all you can do is be the best mom you possibly can to the two precious boys you already have. You explain to your two-year-old that his little "sister" that he was so excited for is no longer in your tummy, but an angel, rejoicing in Heaven with Jesus. You watch his face and feel your heart break again as he replies, "no, mommy, my sister IS still in your tummy". You reassure him that someday, God willing, he will have a sister... just not right now.

Tomorrow is the surgery- 3pm. Check-in is at 12:45. Everyone has been so wonderful- thank you all for your prayers, your kind words, for crying with me and giving me hope. Thank you to the people who have offered to bring meals, and help with the boys... I appreciate each one of you so much.

My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to your word.

I know that I'm not supposed to understand, and I'm okay with that. Really, I am. The peace-the unmistakable peace that only comes from God... it surrounds me and runs so much deeper than this heart-breaking, gut-wrenching pain. You read about stuff like this, but you never think it could/will happen to you. (You know exactly what I'm talking about.) My heart has broken for the people I know (and the people I don't know) who have been through this. My heart breaks for those same people again today, as I now know and share in their sorrow.

We were very excited and shocked to have learned that we were pregnant again, for the third time. Noah is 2, and Dawson is 1, and although it seemed crazy, we were embracing it wholeheartedly. We've known for a while- since the end of March. After a rough start, we saw and heard a heartbeat at 6 weeks, and were reassured that things looked great. We were having another baby! We were hoping and praying that we'd get our little girl.

Things were going well. My nausea had started to subside as my first trimester was coming to an end. I was overwhelmingly tired- still waking several times a night with Dawson. Unexpectedly, the past few days have been rough, as I experienced some things that I hadn't experienced in my pregnancies with the boys. We headed to the doctor this morning for reassurance, but we received everything and anything but that. I lay there as the ultrasound was taking place, my head turned away from the screen. In one glance, I saw my sweet little baby. No flickering heart. No movement. My sweet little baby lay lifeless in my womb.

In that moment, I was overcome with sorrow. The ultrasonographer said nothing, because she couldn't. She left to get the doctor. My mom and I cried. Jon was my crutch. The doctor came in. We heard it, from her lips, and it all became real. Our baby had stopped growing. My body was preparing to miscarry.

I can't explain the grief that I feel... seeing this tiny being whose heart was beating away just weeks ago. What happened? At what point did things change? And what could I have done differently? I teetered on the edge of a deep dark hole a few times today. I won't let myself fall. My faith will not be shaken. My God is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). My God heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds (Psalm 147:3). I have a God who loves me. A God who forgives me. A God who has a plan for my life. A God who gives me peace. A God who is so incredibly good. After all, he gave me an angel.