Reality: The Toddler Potty Tales, Part II

So, if you have been following my adventures for awhile, you may remember this - the account of embarrassing events in public restrooms.

Well, I am back...

Today is Sunday, the craziest of all days for a pastor's wife (especially one with three small children and one on the way).  I have already read the hilarious tale of a fellow pastor's wife hanging out in her bedroom this morning as her two small daughters fought over "being the same amount of fancy" in their church dresses.

You can't make this stuff up, folks.  It is these hilarious and totally frustrating moments that make this life very funny.  You just have to wait a little while for it to seem funny.

It has been a little while for me (about 30 minutes), so I will now share with you The Toddler Potty Tales, Part II.

In the middle of service, my three year old boy said, "I have to pee, mommy."  And when he says it, he means it.  He has to go NOW.  So, I cart all three small ones out the side door, behind the church, outside, through into the Sunday School hall, and into the women's restroom.  There we rush him into the potty, and all goes well.  "I just need to peepee, not poopy, mommy."  Okay, son, pee away.

I ask my four year old boy to use the bathroom while we are in there, and when I turn around the three year old says, "Look at this, mommy.  What is this?"  He is holding a bottle of nail polish.  As I say, "Please put that down," it slips from his hands, breaks into 10,000 tiny glass pieces all over the floor with nail polish strewn about like a terrible bloody mess.

Lord, have mercy.  And I don't mean to be using that lightly.  I seriously needed His mercy to control myself from curling up to cry on the bathroom floor.

I mean there was nail polish spread all over the floor for about five feet.  On a concrete tile floor.  In this nicely kept church bathroom.  In the middle of a church service.  With three small children standing and staring with their mouths gaped open.  "Mommy, uh oh. I sorry."

Yeah.

So, I grab some paper towels.  I don't know if you have ever tried to clean up nail polish, but if this event ever befalls you, here are some suggestions:

1.) Don't use paper towels.  It will just smear it around into an even more ridiculous mess.
2.) Don't clean it up with small children hovering over you.
3.) Just go ahead and curl up on the floor and cry.  The tears may help.

As I was trying to smear the mess into a bigger one, my four year old (who is still avoiding using the bathroom) keeps saying, "That isn't better, mommy.  Mommy, that is worse.  Mommy, just stop."

Just pee, son.  Just pee.

So, the paper towels didn't work.  Again, I am not sure you have ever tried to clean up nail polish off of a concrete floor, but if you let that stuff dry, it will be like concrete itself.  I know this because of years of failed attempts to clean up nail polish from my parents' basement floor.  You can't chisel that stuff up.  So, whatever I was to do, I was to do it FAST.

I cart my three small children back outside and into the church and sit them in a pew.  I walk calmly back to a woman who has watched my children before and I whisper, "Um, my son dropped a bottle of nail polish all over the bathroom floor.  Could you sit with my kids while I run home for nail polish remover and bleach?"

She just laughed and said, "No, we will get that later.  You don't need to do that."

There is NO LATER.  NO TIME!  Must act before it turns into concrete!!!!

So, she kindly sat up with my wiggly kiddos while I drove myself home for supplies.
Good thing we live a block away.

I grab nail polish remover, bleach, and bleach wipes.  I pray, "Lord, please let these things clean this up.  I really don't want to be known for centuries as the pastor's family who spilled the nail polish in the bathroom.  Amen."

I get back, and plop my 17 week pregnant body down, full church dress and all, next to said spill.  I proceed to pour an entire bottle of nail polish remover over the floor.  Then, I quickly realize, I NEED SOME AIR TO BREATHE!!!  I turn on the fan and prop the door.

Back to spill.

I grab 10,000 paper towels and all I can think is, "Somebody needs to introduce Jamberry into this church."
Thanks be to God!  That nail polish remover was sent from Him.

There is still a faint pink tint inside the cracks of the tiles, but I ain't complaining about that.  So, I clean myself up - as my hands look like I just butchered a lamb for a sacrifice - and I calmly walk myself back into church in the middle of my husband's sermon.

My kids - better in the pew than they ever are for me.

Just call me a pro.  A pro pastor's wife.

Reality: 'Twas the Night Before Easter

An ode to all my peeps...

'Twas the night before Easter, when all through their life
Not a creature was stirring, except the Pastor's wife;
The church banners were ironed by the chimney with care,
In hopes that no one would notice a wrinkle here and there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While the parents prayed for silence in their heads;
And mama in her jammies, and pop in his collar,
Had just returned home from a Easter Vigil, hollar.

When out from the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
I heard my pop ask to know what was the matter,
It seems mama forgot the church Easter breakfast meats in the oven,
While she hurried the black load of clothes or pop would have nothin'.

The darkness of evening shown bright with the moon
Gave the clear idea that bed must indeed come soon,
Mamma had a diaper bag, snacks, and three water bottles to pack,
For in the morning time is the one thing she would lack.

With so much flurry, excitement and food abounding,
I knew in a moment it must be something astounding.
For it is true that sometimes mama can get so tired,
So weary, so frazzled, so crazy and wired.

But tomorrow morning we shall sing glorious hymns,
We will wear our new clothes with perfect hems.
Because no matter how much work goes through the night,
My mama and pop teach us it is all because of the Light.

Reality: What The Dress Taught Us

You know the dress I am talking about, right?  It was famous for about 48 hours.  You know, the black and blue one?  Oh, no, well, the white and gold one, then?  Yes.  Good.  We can at least agree that you do know the dress of which I am speaking.

Mass hysteria broke out over that dress, just like over any shiny object you put in front of media's eyes, the social type or the infotainment type.  I mean, we went crazy. 

And it was all in good fun, of course, but the debate was heated.  People would literally not believe another person about what they saw. 

"That dress is BLACK AND BLUE...LOOK!!!"

"No, you are totally wrong.  WHITE AND GOLD!!!"

"You don't see white and gold.  You couldn't.  It is obviously black and blue."

I mean, we would not even believe another person about what their eyes were actually seeing.  Why would they lie about that?  It would serve no purpose to lie about such a thing.   And yet, because it was not our experience and our eyes, we were truly befuddled by the ridiculous idea that the dress could be any other color to another person. 

Science tried to explain it.  There were reasons behind some people's eyes seeing things in certain ways.  Art tried to explain it.  There were certain tones and lights used in certain ways on screen versus real life. 

But to no avail.  That dang dress was BLACK AND BLUE.  Oh, or WHITE AND GOLD!

The truth was there somewhere, hidden behind our lenses.  The dress really did have a color in real life.  There was a sure and certain truth of the matter.  Even if you didn't want to believe it, in the end the dress was proved to actually be black and blue. 

Outside of the ridiculous world of shiny things that catch our attention, there is a whole world full of real world, serious black and blue dresses.  Issues that have angles and color tones and real opinions and actual, real truths. 

It should be no shock to us that the feelings behind these issues are far more intense than even the dress.  But the problem is our eyes still work the same.  We simply do not believe another person about what their eyes are actually seeing in the situation.  We are befuddled by the ridiculous idea that the dress, I mean the issue, could be any other way to any other person. 

Even when given specific and genuine arguments for someone else's point, we claim they are crazy. 

Even though I give a full account as to why I see the need for religious freedom laws to cover the consciences of people, others will not understand.  They see so differently than me.  Their lenses are framed in a totally different worldview.  I try to tell them I see black and blue, but to no avail.  The dang dress is white and gold!

But when we turn the argument around, this works as well.  Let's take another example.  I literally cannot understand why someone would think that no God exists.  I look outside and see the magnificent creation.  I see how this animal needs this other animal to survive.  I see how bees tell other bees where to find flowers by DANCING for them.  I mean, they dance.  Seriously?  How could there not be a creator?  So, when an atheist says, "There is no God.  No one created the world," I am like, "What the?  Have you seen bees dance?"  

That dang dress is black and blue and it seems so simple to me. 

And this dress and lenses phenomenon is exactly why we need laws to protect the religious freedoms of all people.  The Christian, the Jew, the atheist, the Muslim, the Native American, and all other people of some various faith deserve the right to say, "Well, actually I see black and blue for these reasons."  The fact of the matter is that sometimes the truth, the real one, will not be what is seen in their eyes, but everyone deserves the right to speak for their faith, even when they are seeing white and gold.  

Reality: Serve My Event or Be Served.

So, I have been going to the same baker for five years.  He makes the most amazing cupcakes and cookies.  His cakes are to die for.  I sort of wish I never knew about his shop, because I would be a lot thinner.  It is that awesome.

I went in and asked him to make me a cake for our church's 100th year anniversary that was decorated with the words, "Preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ for 100 Years!"

He said, "I really appreciate your business and thank you for your confidence in my baking.  I can't make that cake for you, though.  I really wouldn't feel comfortable celebrating that particular event due to my own beliefs.  I hope you can understand, but I would love to see you back next week for your weekly cupcake."

OK, so that didn't really happen.  Truth is, I don't know any bakers personally, although I wish I did.
I might be a lot happier with all the cupcakes...

I am just trying to make sense of a thought-process I don't understand -

The one that says, "Every person in the world has to accept and celebrate every single aspect of my life, and if they choose to be against something about my character or identity, their company still has to make cakes for my events celebrating that identity.  If they don't, I will sue them."

That way of thinking is just so foreign to me.  I would simply say to my baker, "Oh, ok, no problem."
It would not even cross my mind to consider suing someone over something like that.  Now, if they kicked me out of their bakery because I wore a crucifix around my neck or came in with my husband in his collar, well, then I might make a big stink over things to at least let others know that he was rude, inconsiderate, and hated Christians.

But because they wouldn't bake a cake for my church's anniversary?

I might even choose to stop buying my weekly cupcakes at his shop and go give my weekly money to someone who was more supportive of my lifestyle, but I certainly wouldn't use force to make him bake me a cake.

The only possible reason I can come up with in my brain for why I would choose to sue someone over this is because I wanted to make a mockery of them.  I wanted others to know how horrible I thought they were.  I didn't want anyone else to ever be turned down for that cake again.  I didn't want anyone to think it was okay to disagree with a Christian event for any reason.  And I really wanted that cake from that guy.  By his choice or by the force of court.

And it was worth ruining someone's whole lively hood to do so.
Chances are he would either have to make me that cake and go against what he had believed his whole life or quit selling cakes altogether.

And because of my anger over the injustice of someone not agreeing with this particular event in my life, it all seemed worth it.

And because of my anger, I don't even want that guy to have the right to defend himself in court over his beliefs.  Game. Set. Match.  Make me a cake for my church or go home.

If someone won't let me shop at their bakery because I am a Christian, that is one thing.  If someone won't make a cake for an event celebrating my Christianity, that is a totally different thing.

I will never understand why this world thinks those are the same two things...
And why our first inclination is to assume the worst about them, vilify them in public, and take them to court - no matter the cost to them.

And worse yet, why we would ever go searching out these non-Christian bakers so that we can then be denied services and prove to the world that we will stop at nothing to have someone bake us a cake for our church's anniversary.  Accept my faith or find another profession...just don't choose photography or catering or invitation designing or, you know, anything else, or we will be back.

Reality: An open letter to the man who called me a bigot.

Dear Sir,

I write this, not for you, as I don't expect you will ever read it nor do I plan to respond in kind to your prods for an argument, but for those out there who fear speaking up in this world due to aggressive statements such as yours.

The truth is I believe marriage is defined as the union of one man and one woman.  This is not a newly held belief, nor has it been contested in basically all of human history before about 50 years ago.  Although homosexual actions have been a part of human history for much longer, the institution of marriage has stayed the same.  My belief in this definition is not an easy one to talk about today.  I literally try to avoid talking about it - not because I am ashamed of it, but because no one gives anyone a chance to actually talk about it without writing them off as a "bigot" - to use your words.

So, since this is my own blog, and I can ramble on as long as my sleeping babies will let me, here are some things I assume you don't care to hear about from my perspective -

I love and respect many gay people whom I have personal relationships with, from some of the smartest people I have ever learned from to those I have shared some of my deepest secrets with.  Some of these people live in long-term relationships with people of the same sex and some actively choose to live celibate lives due to their personal convictions against homosexual acts.  The homosexual community and its members are as widely diverse as any other community.  There are those who want marriage to be defined differently, and those who agree marriage is a different union than what they share with their partners.  There is no one I feel worse for in this silencing-a-different-viewpoint society we have come to know in social media days as those from the homosexual community who struggle daily with their convictions against homosexuality.

I don't define marriage this way because I hate gay people or because I hope they live lonely, less-than lives.  My heart hurts because of the so-called Christians who wave, "God hates fags!" banners.  I know no Christians who do that.  The Christians I know actively try to love and serve their neighbors through the help of Christ.  They speak words of forgiveness and are humble and kind.  The seek to live quiet lives.

I define marriage this way because of the Bible, yes, but that isn't the only reason.  I also define marriage this way because children matter.  The biological necessity of the sexually complimentary organs of a man and woman for procreation defines marriage.  Marriage is good for society because it forms families.  It ties mothers and fathers to their children.  Have we terribly abused this institution?  Yes.  Are their children all over the world growing up with one mom or one dad or no parents at all?  Yes.  But that does not change the fact that the biologically best place for a child to grow is with the biological mother and father.  This is not only good for the child, but best for the society.  Marriages between men and women have the opportunity to produce children, thereby growing the society.  Marriages between men and women have the opportunity to raise children with their biological mothers and fathers, thereby raising future involved citizens.

And it is even hard for me to say that children are best with their biological mothers and fathers, because I, in fact, have a child who was adopted.  The idea that he would be better in a situation with his biological mother and father raising him is hard for me to swallow, but the fact is, he would not face some of the challenges he now will because of this loss.  It is a loss.  It was not a possibility for him to be under the care of his biological mother and father, and therefore, his birthmother made the amazing decision to choose a mother and father for him.  So, we all know he is, in fact, in the best place for him, given the circumstances.

But this does not mean that we should set up situations where the loss of a mother or a father is not only possible, but a necessity.  We should be fighting for the family, making changes to our culture that encourage families to remain together, and making the best decisions for our children.

My belief in marriage has nothing to do with me being a bigot.  A bigot is defined as one who is utterly intolerant of any differing creed, belief, or opinion.  I fully recognize and even stated in our conversation that I see both sides of a law that protects religious freedoms of business owners.  The fact is, there will be people who try to misuse any law.  But we don't write laws to protect the people who will try to break them.  We write laws to protect our Constitution and the people of our great nation.  We write laws to protect our citizens from the fact that there are bigots in this world.  There are those who are utterly intolerant of anyone else's viewpoint.  Thereby, there are those who will do anything to coerce another into following their creed.  And that, we protect against.

Would I tolerate a gay couple being asked to leave a restaurant on account of their relationship?  By no means!  Would I tolerate abuse or public shaming of any individual for any reason?  By no means!  But I do respect the fact that a photographer may feel uncomfortable memorializing and celebrating an event that is against their religious convictions - whether that be a Christian photographer at a gay wedding or an atheist photographer at the ordination of a Christian pastor.  I would defend their right to say, "I can't photograph that event due to my convictions," any day.

To say that I am scared to post this would be an understatement.  The fact is, I am terrified.  I don't walk around this world looking for ways to coerce people or pass judgement.  I don't look around on social media, hoping for a way to shame people.  I attempt to live a quiet life and love my neighbor with the help of God.  I fail at this daily, and I truly apologize for any offense given or if I spoke unjustly.  It is my sincere prayer that we are able to live quiet lives while openly sharing the reason for the hope that is within us.

With regards,

Kelly

Reality: Why Mommying is So Hard

When our first child was six weeks old, my husband turned to me in a quiet moment and said, "Can you believe we have kept him alive this long?"  I was pretty shocked by it, too, really.  I mean, come on, I had killed every plant I ever tried to grow (sorry Xanadu), and I only remembered to feed our cat because she is the single most annoying creature in the world for the hour or two before she is supposed to eat.  If it wasn't for her incessant meowing, well...  I digress.

I never considered myself a selfish person.  I look back now on that statement and laugh.

That is what kids do.  They show you how deeply selfish you really are.  And, man, am I ever glad they did that and keep doing it to me today.

It isn't about the number of kids.  I can say that with some wisdom behind my words at this point...three still being fed every day and surviving and one being fearfully and wonderfully made inside my belly as we speak.  Someday, I am sure I will read this statement and laugh at myself, too.  "HA!  I thought I had wisdom then?  I was just a pup."

Such is life.

One kid is hard.  You die to yourself and your own needs everyday just trying to figure out how to keep this human being alive!  You agonize over sleep patterns and feeding schedules and finding a balance in your relationship with your husband.  You find joy you never knew existed while yet feeling such aches of guilt and sorrow for not being the mom you always thought you would be.

Two kids are hard.  You die to yourself and your own needs everyday just trying to figure out how you will ever go anywhere outside your home ever again with all this stuff.  You agonize over two sleep patterns and contradicting feeding schedules and finding a balance in your relationship with your husband.  You find joy again that you never knew could extend past one while yet still feeling the aches of guilt and sorrow for not being the mom you always thought you would be.  And now you have two to screw up with.  The guilt grows.

Three kids are hard.  You die to yourself and your own needs everyday just trying to figure out how you can possibly hold all of their hands in the parking lot.  You forget about all the stuff, and just focus on the hands...do I have everyone's hands????  You agonize over three sleep patterns and rotating feeding schedules and finding a balance in your relationship with your husband.  You find joy in letting a little of yourself go again while yet still feeling those same aches of guilt.  There is now no possible way I can be the mom I always wanted to be to all of them.  I don't even have enough hands to hold their hands across the street!  The guilt grows.

Our fourth is still pretty self-sufficient in there, so I won't say I know four kids are hard, too.  But I can make a pretty educated guess that things aren't getting any easier around here anytime soon.  And because I am a human being, I am pretty sure the guilt will just keep growing right along with it.

Mommying is hard.  There are no employee appraisals, and yet everyday someone has something to say about the way you do it, the choices you made, the failures you inevitably had, and how they would have done it differently.  There are no awards, and yet everyday social media blasts you with pictures of everyone else doing it better than you (because really, how many of us post pictures of our bad moments?)

Mommying is hard because I am a sinner.
I look to myself for the strength and ability to do this.
I choose my own needs before others'.
I read blogs I shouldn't read with opinions I wish I didn't know about.
I covet praise.
I feel anger in my heart towards my children for not letting me do what I want to do.
I feel guilt for the anger in my heart.
I fail...every. single. day.

I am a sinner.  I was a sinner when I had one.  I was a sinner when I had two.  I am a sinner now with three.  And I can promise you I will be a sinner when the fourth arrives, too.

Mommying is so hard for the same reason every vocation is hard, because we are sinners.  The challenges are different, but the source of pain is the same.

But thanks be to God, the story doesn't end there.  Because even Jesus knelt in prayer with sweat-turned-blood, agonizing over the vocation He was given, asking that the cup be removed from Him.  But because of His love for us, He said, "Your will be done" to the Father, and took our place upon the cross.  He drank the whole cup of death so that we wouldn't.  He completely fulfilled His vocation so that when you don't, you have forgiveness through Him.

There is no greater peace than this in mommying.
So, keep on keeping on, Ladies, in the joy and peace of Christ.

Reality: Why my kids are in church.

My husband and I were recently with a couple young boys who occasionally attend our church and occasionally attend other churches, as well.  The conversation steered toward what the other church was like.

Them: "We go with all the kids and play games and stuff."
Me:  "So, you don't sit in the sanctuary?"
Them:  "No, we aren't allowed in there...not until you are 13."

The conversation went on for awhile, but let us just take a moment to ponder these words -

"We aren't allowed in there."
This, my friends, is the honest thought of a child who attends a church with a "children's church."  He is not allowed in "there."

I understand the desire for children's church.  I do.

First, we think it will make kids like church more.  Well, duh.  Yes, it will.  They play games.  They sing songs.  They watch puppet shows.  It is great.  Of course it will make kids love church...

Except it won't, because they aren't learning to love church.  They are learning to love a form of churchtainment we have come up for them to attend.  Someday (according to the boy from our church, when they are 13), they will be expected to know how to act and what to do in a place very foreign to them.  Church is suddenly not exciting and rather boring, because they have little to no idea of what is happening.

Second, we think it will make church better for the adults (especially the parents).  Well, duh.  Yes, it will.  I have three children four-and-under, and I sit alone in the pew.  I get it.  The idea of listening fully to a sermon or letting a hymn run completely through my brain is like some distant dream.  Of course it would make church better for me if they weren't fidgeting all over the place...

Except it won't, because it splits families into age groups and doesn't allow them the joys and struggles of learning the faith together.  We take away the joys of answering the questions our kids come up with during a service.  We take away the beautiful site of the young and the old receiving Christ's gifts as a Christian family.  We take away the moments when our children look up at us and see us living the faith in Word and deed.

Third, we think it will grow the church.  Well, duh.  Yes, it will.  The more programs we have and the bigger our children's church, the more people who will come themselves or allow their kids to hop on the van.  Of course it will grow the church...

Except it won't, because we don't grow the church through the quality or quantity of age-appropriate programs we offer.  God grows the church through His Word being preached correctly into the ears of unbelievers.  Law and Gospel grows the church.  The Word preached through the mouths of pastors grows the church.  That Word is found in church.

Fourth, we think it will allow our teens and young adults a way to get involved in church by teaching the younger kids.  Well, duh.  Yes, it will.  They will probably feel a lot of pride toward their kids.  Of course it will allow our youth and young adults a way to get involved in church...

Except it won't, because they won't be involved in church.  They will actually be missing church in order to go teach about things they learned when they were younger, too.  Thereby missing the instruction they need to be receiving in the pew.  And this goes for the adults and older people running the children's church, too.  We are all like children in church and need to hear the Word.

Do our kids need age-appropriate instruction in order to understand the great mysteries of the faith?  Of course!  Sunday School rocks at this.  Catechism class rocks, too.  And you know what rocks the most at child-centered, age appropriate, kid-geared faith learning?  Parents.

Parents who attend church with their children.
Parents who see the struggles their child faces in life.
Parents who seek out ways to learn the basics of the faith so they can instruct their children.

I do want to throw out a little caveat here.  I am the grown version of a children's church raised kid.  And I think I am pretty awesome.  HA!  It is not impossible for God to work through children's church and the people who teach it.  My parents rocked at the whole teaching-the-faith thing at home.  We memorized Scripture together and prayed together.  I do, however, believe I would have learned to vocalize my beliefs at a much younger age and in a much deeper language had I been able to witness the church in its fullness every week.

The church has a language and the best way to teach a child any language is by immersing them in it from infancy.  That language and vocabulary they hear week after week will be what starts to spew from their hearts and their mouths.

That is why my kids are in church.