all creatures great and small...

"The Lord, in His wisdom,

gave us three things to make life bearable;

humor, hope and dogs.

But the greatest was dogs."

-Robyn Davidson 

we almost lost our sweet lucy in the fall of 2021.  as i reread this post i realized that this miracle was too good to NOT share so i'm posting it years later.  

it happened as most emergencies do... at the worst possible time for an emergency to happen and as an accident.  but we also found that God works miracles, not just for us, but those furry companions He's gifted us with.  

one monday night in september of 2021 we had rolled into the 7:00 PM witching hour... in our household it means we've embarked on the final push with our kids for the night.  they are usually on each others last nerve or done listening to us.  our patience is on its last leg.  we work really hard to get through from 7:00-7:45... reminding henley a million times to put her pajamas on and brush her teeth, keeping ophelia moving along and from distracting henley, and keeping leif from making the girls mad so that it all doesn't come crumbling apart.  all of this while doing dinner dishes, cleaning the kitchen up and packing lunches for the next day.  i always feel the deep partnership with kjaer during this hour.  we are tired, we are weary... and yet he links arms with me and we encourage each other on to show up and remain calm for the last chaotic hour of the night.   

so it was during this nightly routine we were standing in the kitchen working, calling to the girls to get out of the bathtub and chatting with leif that we saw lucy run by the window with something weird sticking out of her mouth.  i figured she must've caught a squirrel or had a toy... i'm thankful kjaer was more attentive.  i heard him say, "what is in lucy's mouth?" and he went outside.

i knew something was dreadfully wrong when leif's face went pale and he said, "i was trying to catch a raccoon but i think i just caught a lucy."

have you met my little leif?  he is a budding outdoorsman.  he loves fishing and setting traps for crayfish.  a couple of afternoons a week that fall we would walk by the fields at school (henley would rollerskate and i would walk some laps to get some steps in) so that leif could dive through the tall grass and catch garter snakes.  he is always concocting clever traps to catch animals.  usually i know he's in a trap-making mood when i find my recycling bin tipped over and him sifting through containers and bottles to find the exact thing he needs.  

... or just the can tipped over, recycling scattered about and no sign of children anywhere.

the problem with this amazing, unbridled curiosity and passion is he doesn't often think of repercussions.  for example, this particular day he had snuck into his tackle box (which we've already talked to him many times about) and had found a small barbed fish hook.  he then shoved it into the center of a chomps beef stick he had leftover from his hike the day before.  this was attached to fishing line with a red bobber on the end and meticulously buried in sand so that only the beef stick was showing.  leif was thinking of his fish hook like he knows it works with fishing.  it snags the fish in the cheek... he catches it... unhooks it... and sets it free.  he wasn't thinking about how a mammal's body is designed differently than a fish, or what would happen if he actually caught a mean old rotten raccoon or the ramifications if our sweet dog swallowed the hook.  

kjaer came walking in with fishing line and a red bobber... i was still registering what was happening but kjaer knew.  he has spent countless times unhooking fishing hooks from tree limbs and putting tackle boxes in timeout because they were meant for only fishing trips.  

he knew what had happened before i did.  

initially there was that anger that parents have... the "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE WE TALKED ABOUT THIS?!?" anger.  it stems from fear... right?  like this time, someone might actually be hurt because of being disobedient.  it's not just about another broken fishing pole or snapped line.  lucy's life was at risk.  

we started looking for the hook outside... telling leif we needed to know every single detail.  that his honesty was important.  leif felt terrible... he knew this was due to his choices and you could tell he wished so badly he could take them back.  we slowly trudged through the backyard with flashlights in hand... and we couldn't find any trace of the bait... which meant we couldn't locate the hook.  

meanwhile, lucy, in her ever persistent drive to catch a beam of light, chased our flashlight rays as we scoured the backyard for that hook.  

that freaking, barbed hook.

she was acting totally normal.  i wanted to believe she had miraculously missed it.  but deep down i knew better... leif is REALLY good at baiting hooks.  

we finished putting the kids to bed while lucy did her normal lucy things... laying by our feet during our chapter book, hopping up on henleys bed while we said goodnight to the girls, trotting down to leif's room and sprawling herself across his floor while we said goodnight to him. 

usually when i walk out of leif's room, i always rub her belly... even though she's going to immediately follow me upstairs to continue her nighttime routine next to my feet.  this night was no different.  i stopped down to give her one of her many nightly belly rubs and heard leif say sheepishly, "i hope lucy doesn't die because of me."

all i could respond with was, "me too, buddy.  me too."  

we had prayed together in leif's room... that lucy would be ok.  but i felt an impending dread.  our night was just getting started.

kjaer and i did a second flashlight round in the backyard, lucy quick at our heals to catch the beams of light.  not a single trace.  

we sat on the couch as lucy plopped herself in her second to last spot before her bedtime.  she sprawled out across our area rug in front of our large glass doors and snoozed while we conversed over tea.  only this time it wasn't about the school day or our normal night time banter.  this time it was about what the right thing to do was.  

i texted my sister in law... a vet.  i was trying to play it cool... but she knew right away this wasn't some hum drum thing.  she called me immediately and gave me the wisest counsel i could have ever asked for.  

it's a terrible thing to say money was one of the first things that popped into my mind.  like... this is going to be an emergency visit to an emergency vet.  those vets are not cheap.  maybe we can try the ol' wait and see approach.  she snapped me out of that place when she said the best thing to do was get an xray... that it would cost around $400 but then we would know either way.  we'd either walk away knowing for sure she hadn't swallowed the hook (and not having to worry all week) or we'd learn how bad the damage was.  the good thing was, she reminded me, that fishhooks are metal... so it would definitely show up on an xray.

then we had a stare down.  kjaer and i.  who was going?   because, you know, it's never convenient on a work night to go to the emergency room.  

kjaer went... bless his sweet soul.  he takes such good care of us and i think he knew i was about to lose my ever loving mind.  during that time i was in such a fragile place anyway.  i was tackling working full time for the first time in eight years and a newly diagnosed autoimmune disease left me exhausted and he knew it.  i love that man.  

i also reminded him that i'm the spender in the relationship so i would probably spend our life savings to save our pooch.  he'd be more diplomatic and not put us in the poor house.  

he came home within a half an hour.  they had a two hour wait just to get an xray so he had to leave her there and was able to come home.  he stayed up and waited for the phone call while i slept.  we had already decided he shouldn't work the next morning... so he busied himself writing sub plans.  around midnight we got the call.  the fishhook was lodged deep down in her esophagus.  they'd have to do an endoscopy.  kjaer gave them the go ahead and crawled into bed with me, whispering that she was going under anesthesia and hopefully they'd scope it out.  there was also some sleepy conversation about what it was going to cost us... and it was NOT cheap.  but it was still under our threshhold.  

around 3 AM the phone rang.  

the doctor doing the endoscopy called to say she had been trying for 3 hours and it hadn't budged.  she began asking us if we would consider surgery...  an endeavor that would cost over $10,000.  i sat on the other side of the the conversation, trying to pick up scraps from kjaer's steady voice.  my heart fell when he repeated that number back... "$10,000?"  i knew... we were going to have to put her down because that number on top of what we were already paying was astronomical.  had i been working full time for the past 8 years maybe we wouldn't have blinked... but i had just started the month prior, and we had just started to have some considerable breathing room financially.  but not enough to make that an easy check to write.   he hung up the phone and told me that the dr. was going to try for a couple more hours, but that we needed to start thinking of other options... like surgery or putting her down.  i began to weep over our dog.  

there comes a moment where you face how much you love something.  no one is immune to this... at some point you will be forced to reckon with losing someone you love and you will find that your love runs for them deeper than you anticipated.  

lucy had quietly wriggled her way into my heart.  sadly, it took me a little longer to connect to lucy than the rest of the family members because she was the dog we got to replace trooper... my original amazing fur baby.  but i sat there grieved.  i realized that she has become my companion and friend... that she dances happily when she sees me, gets up early in the morning during my quiet time for her neck scratches, lays precisely under or next to wherever i'm seated so that the tops of my feet rest on her strong and sturdy back.  she guards our house, loves our kids, heckles our chickens and has never done anything to warrant an early death over something so ridiculous.  

and then the realization came crashing down on me.  if this dr. couldn't get the hook out, we would have to put her down... and leif would forever carry the weight of lucy dying because of his poor choice.  this thought was to great to bear.  i sat in the dark and clasped hands with kjaer and we prayed outloud while i wept.  i can't remember what exactly we said... but the gist was "we know you love animals too because you made them.  please let her miraculously cough this hook like the big fish coughed up jonah.  she doesn't deserve this, Lord.  we need a miracle.  please don't let leif have to carry this burden for the rest of his life."  we pleaded.  i knew the odds were against lucy and us.... but i know too that God has shown up for me in the darkest pits of my life.  so if He could meet me there... He could meet us here too.  even if she was just a dog.  

i couldn't go back to sleep now.  my heart was full of worry.  this is how a mama gets when one of her tribe goes down.  the worry is greater than the need to sleep.  i immediately called in for work and began emailing my teachers i support.  my world was stopping for the day as we held our breath.  

by 6 am kjaer got the call that the doctor had still been unsuccessful.  they were going to wake lucy up and have another dr. try again later in the day.  she promised that they wouldn't charge us for two endoscopies but asked us again to consider the surgery.  

it felt a little like living in a nightmare.

i busied myself until it was time to wake the kids up.  i broke the news to them.  lucy wasn't here because we had decided to take her to the hospital to see if she had swallowed the hook.  leif maintained his composure but his questions told me he was full of guilt and shame.  he knew it was on him and it broke my ever loving heart every time he said it.  i didn't want it to be because of him.  i wanted desperately to rescue him from the pain, to make it not hurt, to erase the shame and the guilt.  henley's eyes welled with tears as she sobbed i don't want another dog mom.  apparently she takes after her mama and jumps to the worst case scenario.  we told them the best thing to do that day was go to school... that if something terrible was going to happen we would come and get them.  and we reminded them to pray and give their fear to God... He loves Lucy too.  He handcrafted that beautiful, brindle coat, her cold black nose and her crookity ear everyone adores. 

kjaer and i drove the kids to school and dodi (bless her) took ophelia to pre-k.   we came back home and settled in for the phone call from the next doctor.  we drank coffee, made banana pancakes and bacon and sat on our patio.  we kept praying and noticing how much we missed our lucy-lou rolling around in the grass and basking in the sun.  i kept thinking about how i just couldn't picture life without her... everything felt so bleak.   my heart didn't know how it could suffer the loss of her and the grief of our children.

around 9 AM the second dr. called.  again... i pieced things together while kjaer talked with her.  she had previously practiced in galveston, tx...  where she had removed tons of fish hooks.  in fact, she had never NOT gotten a fish hook out of a dog.  

(MIRACULOUS!!!)

my heart started jumping.  it couldn't be!

she warned kjaer, this fish hook was different and more difficult than ones she had seen before.  so she didn't want to get our hopes up.  she asked again about surgery.  kjaer told her we wouldn't be doing the surgery.  she asked, "because of the money?"  he answered back yes... and also that we were worried if the recovery would be brutal.  i connected it to my dad's almost-surgery back while he was fighting for his life from cancer.  doctors had often talked about doing an esophageal surgery with him, boasting promises of extended life/normal life.  my mother, being a nurse with over 40 years of experience (at the time... she just retired 52 years to the day of her first day!), said this was often not the case.  the quality of life would have been terrible if he had done it and most patients suffered for the rest of their lives.  i equated lucy's surgery to this... would we be doing something that would possibly just make her life worse to be selfish and keep her with us?  the doctor assured us that, no, she would have a 2 week recovery but they anticipated a full return to normal life.  but we knew it would still be foolish to spend $10000 on a surgery.  

she replied back, "we have a private donation that we think you qualify for that would cover all of the costs of surgery."

(SAY WHAT?!?)

she said they had a private donor who had given a lump sum of money under the strict guidelines that it must be for a family who couldn't spend the money on the surgery, with a healthy dog who had a good prognosis.

you guys... i know it isn't like lucy spit the hook up... but THAT was pretty miraculous.  God had covered ALL of the bases.  He had sent a doctor who has removed fish hooks regularly... she JUST HAPPENED to be the doctor on duty that day.  and then a private donor who would pay for the surgery if she couldn't. 

i wept again.

when prayers are answered so blatantly, you just can't help yourself.  

she hung up after clarifying with kjaer that she would confirm with the donor we were the right fit and that lucy's 2nd endoscopy would begin at 2:00PM.  

we were both so relieved we could hardly see straight.  we went to bed exhausted but hopeful and slept the day away. 

when we woke up, we went to pick the kids up from their various places.  kjaer went to get leif and henley and i went to get ophelia.  kjaer had called to tell me that they were putting lucy under while we were driving.  the slow motion minutes ticked by as we tried to do our 'normal" routine.  twenty minutes later kjaer called, with cheers and shouts of leif and henley in the background, because the doctor had successfully removed the hook with the endoscopy.

bringing lucy home was epically wonderful and miraculous... and we all knew it.  we buried our faces in her fur, scratched her belly and gave her, what leif calls, too many extra kisses.  she was home... she'd still be here with us.

you guys... i have experienced grace and peace on the deepest pits of my life because of God. time and time again i've cried out in fear, in pain, or just out of sheer exhaustion and He has showed up.  sometimes like a lover's whisper in my ear, like the bible describes in the original Hebrew when elijah was in a cave (I Kings 19:9).  sometimes louder than the roar of the fire i'm standing in (daniel 3:21-27). He is a God full of grace because He is the author of grace Himself. 

as Anne LaMott once said, "God: what a nut!"

so the next time you find yourself desperate and weeping... whether over a family member with cancer, the loss of a job, a marriage that's falling apart, or even a pet who might not make it...  whatever it might be.  "Cast all of your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you." (I Peter 5:7). He may be a nut for giving us His recklessly beautiful grace... but only because He's a nut about you.  He made you, you are His and what you think and feel matters to Him.  

The verse that we have walked by
daily for the last year on our way
out the door.

perpetual child delay...

i'm the kind of girl... at least i used to be... that was mostly on time.

by that i mean i usually arrived at my destination right on the nose... give or take a minute or two... 90% of the time.  while i know this wasn't best practice, it is basically how i've functioned my entire life.  yes... sometimes i'd occasionally be 5 minutes late.  but for the most part, i was there when i was supposed to be. therefore, i've always considered myself one of those punctual-ish people... though not quite as impeccable as my parents.

my mom... she's 15-20 minutes early to every place.  i'm pretty sure my dad was about the same as well.  this isn't because of a generational gap -  they were/are basically just the most decent human beings you've ever met and they would never disrespect you by being late... not even for the most casual of occasions.  

going grocery shopping with my mom?  she'll be at your house ten minutes early.  

me?  i'm punctual-ish.

the problem with this mindset is that then i had children and now i'm on a constant child delay.  to illustrate how much i cogitate upon this perpetual lag in my life, here is an excerpt from an email i sent kjaer last week after my drive into work:

got out of the door at 7:27.  was feeling so proud I was actually leaving 6 minutes earlier than my usual lateness and ON TIME.  got stuck behind a caterpillar bulldozer on Dayton from 6^th to that next major light.  basically showed up at work at my normal time. (five minutes late)

I’M TELLING YOU… I CAN NOT WIN!  :/

and that's the way it always goes these days.  i have two small children and a senile dog who will poop on his hind legs should there be a whisper of punctuality.  and though i have instituted a plethora of precautionary measures meant to ensure our punctuality to preschool/work/church, nothing seems to help.  

precautionary measures include:   

-exercising and taking my shower at night 

-setting an alarm 15 minutes before we're supposed to be backing out of the driveway

-revising said alarm to 30 minutes before we're supposed to leave to include going potty and brushing teeth

-packing bags/diaper bags the night before and sometimes even loading them in the car by moonlight

-packing lunch night before

-making coffee and setting timer night before

-waking up 5 minutes earlier

-waking up 10 minutes earlier

-waking up 30 minutes earlier
-resorting to a daily "messy bun" and no longer styling my hair

seriously... 

it doesn't matter. 

i'm cursed. 

it's like i'm sisyphus... pushing two children out the door and into a car.

to further my case of how i just can't win... let us cozy up and hear the tale of last thursday.  

leif goes to pre-school on tuesdays and thursdays- my days off.  he needs to be there at 9:15... seems like a reasonable time of day, right?  i mean, since having children i haven't slept past 7 AM so you'd think that two hours to get myself and two small beings out the door would be plenty of time.  especially since i have put all of the precautionary measures in place over this past school year.

negative. nope.  never.

we still stroll into preschool 2-7 minutes late...

every.

time.

i feel the director eyeballing me as i charge through the door every tuesday and thursday like a wrecking ball. 

what's worse is, i'm a freaking teacher for pete's sake.  

you'd think i could get my own child to school on time.  

but no.

so this particular thursday morning, things were going fairly smoothly.  both children were dressed, hair was combed and pig-tailed, bags were packed and i was waiting for the 30 minute timer to start our exodus.  i was SO ready.  nothing was going to stop me.  i could literally visualize us pulling out of the driveway at 8:58. looking back, i probably should repent for my cockiness.  

so the timer on the oven beeps with the 30 minute countdown and i ask leif to turn off Curious George (yes... he still loves ol' c.g... and i love that he loves him so) and go to the bathroom.  i could see the funnel cloud form above his head.  there was an exchange of angry three year old words with mommy-who-wants-to-be-on-time words which might have included something about not being able to watch curious george later that evening since he was throwing a tantrum.  gnashing of teeth ensued.

(so there, young dawdling child!)

and, as if it were airborne, henley started crying and i can't even remember why.

so i was in the throws of trying to survive a double whammy tantrum.  but i could not be swayed.  i was going to get us to preschool on time by golly.  a freight train wasn't going to stop this expedition.  so i gave hugs and kisses and bribed henley with bringing toys like elmo and baby doll and "packpacks" out to the car.  i held hands, carried and gently rounded up my offspring in the general direction of the car. they moved like bellowing cattle, and i was their patient, punctual cowgirl.  

once leif was out front in the fresh air, his tantrum cleared up as quickly as it had surged, and he stood upon his picnic table in the front yard and surveyed the land. he does this from time to time, like Simba on pride rock.  who knows, he could also be checking the weather and listening for prey as well, but i usually take it as my moment to buckle henley in... which turned into another fit because she is now undeniably two.

t.w.o.

... and she likes to punctuate her thoughts with "I DO IT" while she feebly plays with her buckles for an eternity.  should you even to attempt to help her do anything without her consent, be ready for the toddler assaults and screams to fly.  this takes a very fine act of trying to offer my help but making her think it's her idea.  i have not quite perfected my strategy with her yet... as being fiercely independent has just recently reared it's ugly head.  so it takes us a while.  

but i'm not shaken.  

i've got this. 

i am a punctual goddess.

meanwhile, leif has started walking his domain and i remember a spray of diarrhea from our fossil of a dog that had been lain earlier that morning.  I leave henley's side, and show leif where it is like an air traffic controller, motioning my arms this way and that,  with a gentle reminder to watch where he's walking.  he looks at me like, oh my!  where did that come from?!?

(you know where i'm headed... don't you?)

i head back around to henley and check my phone.  we're doing good.  i can see the finish line.  my angelic son is calmly waiting for me and  i'm nearly done with his adorable, yet fiesty sister.  i cue leif to enter the car and get started on his seat belt when finally, henley gets the brilliant idea that we should work together on this tricky thing called a car seat buckle... to which i happily oblige, give high fives, load her dolls and books in and shut her door.  

success!!!

meanwhile, leif hops in the car, his little blue eyes sparkling as he starts to ask me his usual round of curious questions while climbing into his car seat.  

and i see it.  

i see it before i smell it.

a little bit of grass and.... something... on the end of his boot.  

FREEZE! i say... a bit loudly perhaps.

leif... did you... step in poop?

he looks at me, confused.

DON'T MOVE, i say firmly, running around the car to lift him out.  

and there it was... all over his little boots.  

NO, I REFUSE!!! I WILL NOT FALL TO THIS ATROCITY!!!!

i have him go sit on the stoop and remove his boots.  he's very sweet and apologetic.  i knew it wasn't on purpose of course... though it sort of feels like it.  i dash back into the house to grab another set of shoes.  i toss them on leif and have him run to the car while i put trooper's diaper back on and get him into the house.  i see the clock... 9:02.  

i can't believe this... i might be OK... i might only be a couple minutes late.  

i start tearing out of our house like i'm on a Wipe Out obstacle course when i hear leif call to me... "mom?  i think i got poop on your seat."

no!  it can't be!  i think.  it's mud from the other day.  don't panic.

i get to him to adjust his seat belt and there it is... smudged on my back seat.  for a second i entertain the thought of leaving it there until after preschool drop off.  but i couldn't.  i just couldn't.  living with a 105 year old dog makes you feel pretty sick and tired of smelling excrement from ancient bowels.  

so i get henley's diaper wipes out and clean off my seat, find all of the blankets and objects that leif had inadvertently stepped on when entering the car, toss them into the back of my car and jump into the drivers seat.  i turn the key... the clock reads 9:07.  

DAMN IT!!!

i drive to preschool like a defeated soul who just can't go on.  i can already picture pulling into the parking lot with all of the other mom's exiting the school (in their designer outfits and flawless makeup, of course) staring at me in slow-motion as i lull by them... top knot in my hair and the same sweatshirt and ripped up jeans i wear every week.  they chant "tar-dy, tar-dy, tar-dy!" pumping their fists high into the morning sky, while i unload my littles (and toys and packpacks) and mosey into the building.  one lady leans over and whispers to another, "how can someone be late at nine.fifteen.in.the.morning?" and the other responds, "What will she do when kindergarten begins and he has to be at school by 7:45?"   i do my best to shake this vision from my head as i pull into an empty space and unload.  

there are no more excuses.  we have an old, sick dog has been used many times.  i'm in the middle of helping my mom move has been an excuse.  it doesn't matter.  there's always an excuse.  always.  my son accidentally walked through poop or we got stuck behind a giant tractor on a one lane road just doesn't seem to suffice.  i want to weep at the feet of his sweet preschool teacher and beg for forgiveness.  i want to explain that i'm a teacher and deal with tardiness all of the time from other parents and students.  i used to (pre-children, of course) shake my head at that one mom who just couldn't get her shit together and i'd think, "just leave 5 minutes earlier! it's not that hard."

yes, judgy monica of yesteryear.  it IS hard.  it is SO freaking hard.  it's hard to stay calm while moving your little brood out the car every morning.  it's hard to make sure everyone has brushed teeth, that 50% of your children have combed hair on most days and everything they need to successfully move throughout the day.  it's hard to do all of that, plus care for a house,  your husband, yourself, and your senile, dying dog.  it's hard to do this amazingly wonderful job of being a parent.

so that does it.  i'm declaring my life in a perpetual five minute delay.  you want me somewhere?  lie and tell me it's starting 10 minutes earlier than it really is.  who knows, maybe i'd walk in on time.  as for me, i'm going to try giving myself a little more grace.  

my children are kind and sweet. 

i'm madly in love with their dad,

who's madly in love with us.

we all love each other to the marrow.  

my babes are well-fed.  
they are happy.

they are amazing.  

but, i'm sorry, they have one flaw.  
they will be five minutes late to whatever they're supposed to be doing from now on.

food for thought...

our triumphs and our defeats erupt from our vaults [of secrets]

-beth moore

secrets.

we all have them.  some are good, some are bad.  some we are holding onto faithfully for others because they had nowhere else to turn.  we file them away into our vaults... into the darkness to (try to) forget about or stuff down.  

regretfully... sometimes we're able to dust our hands off, turn around and walk out of our vault without looking back.  

and regretfully... sometimes we camp out in our vaults.

i learned almost 15 years ago about the freedom in sharing your deepest darkest secrets.  i had been carrying my own secret around, hiding it from everyone i knew... living in darkness.  one of the most freeing moments in my life, was digging that secret out of the cellar in my heart, brushing the spiderwebs off and telling my mom.  in that confession, i learned the art of acceptance, mercy and forgiveness... so beautifully displayed by my mother.  and since then, i've done my best not to file away my shame.  i try to be honest about who i am, where i've been and what i've done.  

but i know i'm nowhere near perfect.  while i've only begun to brush the spiderwebs away over the last 15 years, there is so much in that vault that even i don't know about.

for instance...

i have always known that after henley's birth i would need to lose a substantial amount of weight.  while many of you gain the recommended 20-30 pounds... my body does not do that.  i can truthfully say that this time i made a valiant effort at staying healthy, but still managed to gain almost the same amount of weight i did with leif.  i have always known that at my 6 week check-up i would get the green light to start losing a little weight... healthily, of course.  so i've anticipated this for a long time.

after henley was born my brain switched into countdown mode.  

6 weeks until i get it under control...

5 weeks until i get it under control...

4 weeks until i get it under control...

you get the picture.

 you see... i've been down this weight loss road now 3 separate times (with other minor events when i had to re-lose 5 pounds here or there).  the first time was after college when i lost about 45 pounds.  the second time was after leif was born and i lost 60 of the 75 pounds i gained with him (before becoming pregnant again).  now i've had henley... i've lost (as many do) about 30 pounds in the first 8 weeks... and have 30 to go until i'm to my wedding weight.  

so when i had about 1 week left to go... i did something that i've never done before. 

i decided to do my best to get to the root of the problem.  

i'm tired of having to struggle so much with my weight... so i asked God, over the course of several days, to shine His big old flashlight into the cobwebs of my heart and expose the motives to this roller coaster i've been on to me.  i figured if i could get to the root, i might be able to experience some of that freedom that i've experienced in other areas of my life.

and as the week unfolded... here is what i learned...

lean in... 

(it's a secret)

i have food issues.  

major food issues.

we are as sick as our secrets... right?

well, as the week progressed, i started to notice secrets about food that i had been avoiding for a long time.  like if i had mcdonalds and indulged in a quarter pounder with cheese, a large fry and a large coke... i'd take the evidence of said meal and walk it to our outside trash can so that kjaer wouldn't see it when he got home.  

why, you ask?

honestly, i don't even know.  kjaer couldn't care less if i stopped at mcdonalds for lunch.  you and i know an occasional fast food trek isn't something to be ashamed of.  but i wanted to hide it... like a big fat secret i was ashamed of.  probably because my eating over the first 6 weeks with henley was more like a feast than famine.  i've probably been to mcdonalds four times in those 6 weeks... which is more than i went in the past couple of years.

but deep down, subconscious monica knows that mcdonalds is no way to start losing weight.  she's thinking... 

the end times are near, i must fatten up!!!

  hence... the shame, the hiding... the secret.

but that's not all.

when kjaer isn't around, i secret snack. 

yes... it's a real thing... this secret snacking.

i find all sorts of things around the kitchen and try to snack so that kjaer won't notice that anything is missing.  if his mom has brought over some delicious cookies from her bakery, i eat several, making sure to leave plenty enough in each bag (there are usually several varieties) that it looks like none are missing.  i NEVER eat the second to last cookie... that's a dead giveaway.  

also... right before i go back on track with my eating

i go WAAAYYYY off track.

as in... i derail my train.

i try to hit every restaurant i know i'll be craving, as if it's my last time i'll eat there again... EVER.

it's a little wild (and expensive).

two mondays ago was my first official day back on track.  as i was dutifully counting my weight watchers points for every item going in my mouth (only cheating a couple of times, of course, another secret),  kjaer and i were happily eating dinner and talking.  he was sharing with me how much he loves me and how he doesn't want me to get too stressed out over losing this weight.  he loves me no matter what.  

which is soooo nice to hear...

and yet part of me had to actually tell my brain...

this DOES NOT mean you're off the hook.  you still have to lose your 35 pounds.

and then, i dug those food secrets out of my vault, and told my husband what i've been hiding from him for the last 4 years of our marriage and 5 years of our relationship (i do this stuff even when i'm thin!)  and let me tell you... 

it

felt

good

(a little embarrassing)

but good.

and do you know what i realized?

i'm no different than anybody else with an addiction.  

alcoholics do this.

shopoholics do this.

drug addicts do this.

compulsive liars do this.

WE

ALL

DO 

THIS

in some form, somehow.  

it's just the facing - the putting words to it - that makes it different.  if i air out some of these secrets i've been burying for unknown reasons... they are no longer secrets.  and if we're as sick as our secrets... then i have a few less bad secrets to keep... and less sickness.  

simple as that.  

i'm not saying there isn't a place for secrets.  i believe my role as a wife, friend, sister and daughter is to be a trusted listener and keeper of secrets.  i really work to protect the secrets that are shared with me.  i also believe in good secrets.  for example, if i were to try to bless someone because i had that desire placed upon my heart... i don't believe i should go talking about how i attempted to bless someones life by doing whatever i did... bragging is telling good secrets that should be kept to ones self. 

but what i am saying, is i think each one of us can think of something that needs a little air... something that needs to be said out loud to someone else... even if it's just a whisper of a prayer to God.  it doesn't mean you have to be a blabber mouth and post it on a blog, like me.  but maybe find your trusted confidant and share it with them.  maybe it's your partner, your best friend, a parent.  who knows?  but chances are, if you have picked that person wisely (that being KEY)... you will experience freedom... like a breath of fresh air stirring through your soul.  

so there...

now i've told you one of my minor secrets... i'm a mess when it comes to how i think about food.  please try your best to keep it.  but even if you tell everyone you know, i also know that the truth will set me free.  and hopefully this journey will be a learning experience for me this time, rather than something i HAVE to do.  

so here's to dusting off the cobwebs and shining a light into my darkest corners.

here's to freedom.

all choked up...

you guys...

how did we ever survive our first year of life?

i'm serious.

i feel like my house is a giant death trap and leif is walking into them all.  he's a magnet for destruction.  last week i spent an obscene amount of late night time, pacing around my house like a crazy zombie on the hunt for anything that would harm our child.  i was all twitter-pated because he had choked... and i mean REALLY choked... for the first time that evening.

it didn't even happen at our house... but a series of events led up to the choking and now i'm worried our child will swallow the nearest lint ball and keel over.

i think all of this actually started over christmas break, when he started crawling.  he started finding little objects that we didn't even know existed and putting them into his mouth.  i once found a piece of glass from a broken ornament in his mouth.  the next day it was the teeny tiny stem from the top of a clementine.  never mind that in both instances i had just vacuumed and swept... he STILL managed to find something off of (what i thought were) our spotless floors.  

 it's ok if you judge me... i'd judge me. 

and then, just mere hours ago, i thought i saw him working something around in his mouth like a wad of tabacco.  when i got a sneak peak i saw a flash of white.  trying to remain calm i reached in (only to push it further back... #1 no no rule of parenting i just broke).  so i had kjaer fish it out and there was ANOTHER piece of glass.  WHAT?!?!  after crawling around on hands and knees, turning over every object in sight, we found a chipped corner on one of our coasters,  of all things!  leif almost swallowed glass from a stupid coaster!!

so... you can probably say that i've become pretty aware of the need to childproof.  clearly keeping a clean abode isn't enough to protect my precious little peanut, so we're starting on this very sllllooooowwww journey of learning how to childproof.

look ma! no more glass! (thanks pop!)

except it's more like, we think we've got the bases covered... and then leif finds the chink in our armor and we realize we have more work to do.

last week we were all hanging out on the floor next to a bag of, ironically, childproofing apparati.  leif was patting on the bag so we could hear it crinkle when suddenly he popped his hand in his mouth.  i then realized, a split second later that he had stuck an outlet cover in his mouth.

yes, a childproofing outlet cover.

(it's only mildly humorous because he's ok)

i panicked.

i held his arms so that kjaer could sweep it out of his mouth.

leif just got pissed off because we were ruining his good time... but mommy and daddy prevailed.

(and then exchanged very relieved looks)

just didn't know how we would explain to our friends that our child choked on a device that was actually meant to child proof your home...

worst.

parents.

ever.

so we headed out the door to mcdonalds.  i mean, it seemed the only logical thing to do.  actually, it was mcteacher night for kjaer and he wanted to show off his family (well, probably mostly his son... but i don't mind being arm candy!)  it was crazy busy and leif was grumpy (after we had already foiled one of his plans for the evening).  i had found a booth and leif was crunching on his little puff cereal whilst perched on top of a table.  kjaer was grabbing a high chair while i had two hands on our little mover and shaker.

kjaer showed up with the high chair and i picked leif up and set him down without thinking that he had a piece of puff still in his mouth.

he started choking.

and not in a zoolander-ish fashion

(cough, cough, i think i've got the black lung pop!)

it was a struggling for air, couldn't get a cry out for a few of seconds choke.  but because he could mostly still cry out and was coughing, we did what you were supposed to do and waited it out.  it was the longest few seconds of my life.  the whole instance probably took 30 seconds but it felt like many agonizing minutes of watching him choke.  finally, the poor kid threw up all over kjaer and started crying.  i was so thrilled he threw up and was crying i hardly noticed my poor vomit covered husband across the booth.

vomit = not choking baby

so, for me, it spelled relief.

for kjaer, it spelled loss of appetite.  

that night i drove home with this sense of foreboding... just how long was this choking faze supposed to last and how could we ensure our son made it through?  i mean... if you hadn't already judged me by the first piece of glass... surely you're questioning my parenting abilities by the 2nd piece!!  aren't you a little worried too?

or is this just parent-hood?

do you all do this too?

i really need to know.

so now we're in full swing... kjaer is rushing to complete his masterpiece of a cable railing so that we can put up gates, i'm checking every outlet and cupboard while hunching over our floor with a magnifying glass to scope out possible swallowing material. 

it's exhausting, a little nerve wracking, and a bit terrifying to be so responsible for something so wonderful.

but then you see his little face and you think...

well, ok, for you i will.   no one else... but you?  yes. 

so pray for us folks.  not just a little... but a whole lot.  ask for grace and mercy.  ask for peace of mind and protection.  and ask that kjaer and i remember to pick our eyes up off the booby trapped floor and enjoy each little moment we have with our man.  parenthood may have been designed to refine you through stress... but it was also meant to be a blessing.  and i want to always remember the blessing we have and enjoy every day rather than worrying about every little thing.  so most of all... pray that we can still chill out, in spite of the worries, and enjoy our little miracle of a man!  

little man...

Psalm 17:8 Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.

i was staring into leif's big blue eyes the other night, just sure he could see himself in mine, when i remembered a lesson from when i went to israel 6 years ago (!).  

what our teacher had taught us was that the original hebrew to english translation for "apple of your eye" was actually "little man of your eye."  at first, this seems nonsensical.  how can we be the little man of God's eye?  

however, he went on to explain, it means that God himself draws so near to us that we can see our own reflection in His eyes. 

i remember learning this lesson in Israel and getting the chills because i was so moved.  i tend to sometimes make God so big, mighty and powerful, that i forget the intimacy He has with us (if we let Him in).

but i don't think i truly understood this closeness, until those beautiful, sparkling, blue eyes were gazing dead on into mine.  leif just basks in your gaze.  holding him close while his eyes meet yours is a somewhat holy experience.  as his mother, i feel so much love and awe when i look into those endless, blue pools.  in that moment, nothing can harm him.  he is safe in my arms, trusting me with every molecule of his little being.  

while leif and i were sharing this quiet moment, i realized that if he looked, he could probably see himself in the reflection of my eyes.  he was so physically close to me that not one part of him was hidden.

and that was how the point of this simple psalm, was driven home in the depths of my heart.

it was then i finally understood how God desires to hold us close to him, when we let Him.  sometimes we can feel so small, insignificant.  but if you just give up that control and rest in His arms... you'll find yourself drawn so closely to his chest, that not one part of you will be unsean. this must be what the psalmist means when he says... my frame was not hidden from you when i was made.*

so wherever you are... nestled up in your cozy house, feeling alone and empty, or taking a break from the calamity of life...

take a breathe, sit back and relax...

for He never sleeps nor slumbers**

and He's watching over you... 

you...

the apple of His eye. 

*Psalm 139:15
**Psalm 121:3–4