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Love

Family, Love, Parenting, Patience

My Favorite Child…Bonus edition

A few months ago, I overheard a conversation while away on a girlfriend weekend in the Texas Hill Country.  I had taken a phone call in the next room, and was walking back to join the gals when I heard them discussing the issue of having a favorite child, and if they had to choose one, which it would be.  I was chuckling on the inside, and then I heard one of them say, “Which one would be Brooke’s favorite?”  I stopped, wanting to hear who the lucky boy was.  After a pause, another one answered with, “She doesn’t really have a favorite, she is pretty equal with all of them.”

It was the best and sweetest compliment I’ve ever received.  Especially from those gals, as they know the good, bad, and ugly of me.  We are all moms and two of them occupy the same boat I do – Bonus Mom.  It is crazy that two of my best friends also married men who have custody of their children.  We end up spending more time with our bonus babies than we do our biological babies.  You will never hear me complain about this, I didn’t have children to get every other weekend off.

When Hubs and I got married and blended our boys, I did it without any hesitation.  I have always loved kids and kids seem to love me, so I figured how hard could this be?  After a couple of months into our blending I realized that being a Bonus Mom would teach me more about the patient side of love than anything else could.  For the record, we do not usually refer to any child in our home as a Bonus Boy – but to save confusion and to make a point, for this post I will – besides, who doesn’t love an added Bonus?!  Especially for extra credit.

I made several mistakes in our first year.  A lot of them stemmed from the assumption that he chose me, when in actuality, none of our children chose to have a Bonus Parent.  Hubs and I carefully chose each other.  We were crazy in love, but more importantly – we trusted the other would value and love our child(ren), and made the decision to unite with that belief.  Four years in, we know we have had it easier than some in blending a family.  It has still been a learning curve. I rarely give advice, as I usually realize what an idiot I was yesterday – the following are lessons we’ve learned thus far.

Mistake #1 – I came in hot.

Lesson #1 – Don’t come in hot.

I laugh when I look back at my naivety.   I mom so hard, so I just assumed my 10-year-old Bonus Boy got the memo that I was a good one. At first, I was confused that he had to warm up to me and figure out who I was, how I was going to change his life, and where I was going to fit in.  Trust was earned slowly.  Somedays were slower than others.

Forgive me for making the following comparison, but for me – everything is related back to animals.  I’ve rescued a lot of animals.  At the beginning of saving/adopting one, they are usually timid.  Some have been abandoned or mistreated, and have trust issues.  If I came in aggressive – even aggressively loving – they would shrink back or run and hide.  Most of the time, if you just be yourself and sit still, they will figure out you are not a threat to them and eventually will warm up to you.

For my Bio Boys, they know mom is going to constantly hug and kiss their faces – I come in hot on a daily basis, since they were born.  They had a head start on my Bonus Boy, who moved in and thought I had lost my mind.  For years it had just been him and his dad (and an amazing grandmother, an Aunt/Cousin hybrid, and extended family), but now this crazy “Bonus Mom” was always hiding around the corner, grabbing hugs and planting kisses on his head whenever she wanted.

Word of Advice – CHILL.  Walk into your new traditions slowly.  Let them know you love them in small, subtle ways, I promise they will not go unnoticed.  They are watching you, waiting for your crazy to come out, expecting your crazy to come out.  Give them their space to learn and navigate this new journey, and show them the respect that you want in return.

 

Lesson #2 – You are not your Bonus Child’s disciplinarian

Thankfully, we had an amazing counselor give us this advice, and we followed it. In our house, the biological parent does the disciplining.  While we have boundaries of requiring respect from all children, it’s not the Bonus Parent’s job to come down hard.  I have watched this in other families and I want to immediately arrest them, take away the sweet label of Bonus Parent, and slap them with the Step Mom/Dad title.

Bonus Parents, please hear me when I lovingly say this – Unless that child does not remember a time without you in their life – meaning you have been there since infanthood – disciplining is not your job.  I don’t care the situation, back off.  Hand that responsibility back to your spouse, the biological parent.  This requires A LOT of communication between the parents on how to handle specific situations that arise, but surely us adults can do that right?  It is definitely a tight rope of supporting without overstepping, but you can do it.

We have not dealt with an outright disrespectful child.  So, if that is your issue, I encourage you to seek a professional for advice.  I just slept at a Holiday Inn Express last night, who am I to know?  We have dealt with a cranky kid who has been disrespectful, in that case we fall back to how we would treat anyone who isn’t respectful in our house.  Tar and feather them.

I’m kidding.  We are clear on our expectations of respect and rules.  Here is what is required in our home.  Tone of voice is also important in any situation.  Kids are not dumb, they are actually brilliant.  They know if you like them, they know if you are pretending in front of their parent – if you aren’t being honest, they will take note.  If this is the case, go gather yourself, do some soul searching and praying.  I encourage you to simply realize that you are dealing with children, be loving.  You can be a stern fist if you want and let everyone know you run the show, but you won’t earn their love with that hardness.  Be flexible.

 

Lesson #3 – Be Fair

I don’t do everything right – but I am fair.  What I do for one child, I will do for all.  They have the same rules (or will, when they get to that age).  I just want my tombstone to be honest, “She loved us in a big way, she was fair, and she leaves behind a big closet.”, so that’s how I live.  I understand that not every situation has all the children living in the same house, which would create some creativity in equality.  I can only give advice on what I know, and that is them being under the same roof.  BE FAIR.  If you let one do something, then sister (or brother), you’d better let them all.  Don’t be sneaky either.  Nothing makes me sadder or madder than watching kids be treated different or unequal.  If you aren’t feeling that bond with your Bonus Baby, then FIGURE IT OUT.  Fight for it.  Find a common ground and build from there.  I promise it is so worth it.  When a teenager – bio or bonus – chooses to spend time with you, that is the biggest compliment of LIFE.

 

Lesson #4 – Do not talk negative about the other Parent.

This goes for EVERY PARENT, Bonus or Bio.

I don’t care what your opinion of their other parent is, it needs to be kept to yourself.  If you and your spouse need to communicate frustrations behind a closed door – knock yourself out.  But that baby better not hear it.  Or feel it.  And don’t be sneaky with the passive aggressive comments either.  KIDS ARE BRILLANT – they see you, they feel every single comment.  Because guess what?   They are half that person, and if you are talking bad about their parent, they will internalize it as there must be something wrong with them as well.

My biological parents divorced when I was 8 months old. I didn’t hear many positive things about my biological dad until after he had died.  My mom was young and didn’t know any better, but I felt every single negative comment about him.  I didn’t realize this at the time, but what I did recognize was that it didn’t feel good to hear bad things about him.  I don’t think I truly paid attention to how it made me feel until I was a divorced adult myself, and had to chose my words carefully, even when I was madder than a hornet.  My biological parent’s situation was different than my children’s, and I know my mom had a lot of frustrations, they were just hard to hear.

I’m not saying you have to lie and sugar coat things about an absentee parent.  If the child needs to talk, listen and validate their feelings.  But don’t add your opinion or manipulate the situation.  Divorce is hard enough for them to maneuver through, don’t add more junk.

 

Lesson #5 – You are not in competition with your spouse’s child(ren)

I’ve seen this enough times to say…STOP IT.  That child was there before you.  They need some quality time with their parent, alone, without you.  Create a space for that to happen and support it.  You are an adult, do not make a child feel that they are in competition for their parent’s time, love, and attention.  “Anything that feeds a rivalry will corrupt your strength.”*  Be an adult.  Take the egos out of this and build a strong family.

In the end, kindness covers a lot.  When in doubt, reach for kindness.  We will never have all the answers, nor will we always know the right thing to do or say.  In the beginning, it may seem that you will never get through all the hurdles – show them and yourself grace as you navigate through them.  For those who do the work that someone else has the title for…show up as a safe haven, not a mini savior.  No one needs a mini-savior, yet everyone could appreciate a safe haven.

Our Bonus Boys are definitely a bonus – they are little extensions of the spouse we chose and married. There is such a sweet side of loving a child that is shared with you, and being loved in return.

*Lisa Bevere

 

 

Character, Grace, Love, Patience

Rock. Paper. Scissors. GRACE

“Grace is having a relationship with someone’s heart.  Not their behaviors.”

I believe grace may hold the largest percentage in the make up of love.  It is hidden in all good things.  All of the things we strive to be and have, there grace is… indexed first in the ingredient list.

Love. Forgiveness. Kindness. Acceptance.

In conflict, I’ve often prayed for God to help me see someone through His eyes.  “Help me love them as you do.”

It isn’t a prayer I like to pray.  Most often, my heart has to have been beaten and softened by the waves of life before I resort to trying grace.

And yet, when you pull grace out and bestow it, the peace that covers the situation and the hearts involved, makes one ponder why we don’t use it more.

Right?  That Bob Goff sure is smart. I need grace daily, yet internally – and lets be honest, sometimes externally, roll my eyes when it’s time to bestow it.  Especially when my fairness factor kicks in and keeps sending my brain reports on why grace has not been earned.

When my boys were younger and argued a lot, then the tattling began.  I would tell them, “Be nice to your brother! Extend some grace.”  It had only been uttered 101 times before an exasperated McCray said, ”MOM, I don’t even know what that means!!”

Grace (n): mercy; clemency; pardon.

Truthfully, I think Webster fails to describe accurately.  It’s like a salve.  Better than Neosporin or Eucerin.  It covers a hurt or transgression like an undeserved Band-Aid.  It is acceptance given when we don’t understand.  It is forgiveness given when the action is deamed unworthy.

Shocks and stuns.  A force as startling as the power of electricity.

Turn towards grace.  Flip the lights on.

In the game of Rock, Paper, Scissors….let grace be the paper that covers the rock of “fair”.

Love can be the scissors.

Character, Courage, Faith, Forgivness, Lessons, Love, Patience, Prayer, Renewed

Known for our Fruit…

“…by their fruit you will recognize them.”

If you spent more than a little time in Sunday school as a child you probably recited the fruits of the spirit.

You might have even made a craft, or your kids have, hung on the fridge as proof they are hopefully learning a lesson or two.  Lord knows I’ve failed at teaching mine as much as I should have.

This morning I sat down for some quiet time that usually seems to elude my schedule. I’m not in a current bible study and didn’t want to read any of the three books on my nightstand, so I just sat.  I sat and watched the rain come down outside.  In our back yard sits an apple tree that is on the struggle bus.  I got it for Hubs on our first anniversary to symbolize paper, the traditional one year anniversary gift.  Only we have been so busy watering and caring for our actual relationship and family that we’ve forgotten to care for the poor little apple tree.

I sat looking at the sticks that are hoping to grow apples and the question popped into my head,

“What fruit will you produce today?”.

Yikes.

“What fruit will you be recognized by?”

Ouch.   Stop it already.

Today I would be caught with rotten bananas, like the brown ones in my freezer waiting to be used for banana bread.  Why couldn’t you have caught me on a good day?  I have a couple of those on leap years.

Spiritual fruit cannot grow with an ego in the middle of it.

Someone wiser than I came up with the acronym for Ego = Edging God Out

Which is exactly what it does, it convinces us that we are most important, we deserve this, we earned it, our feelings matter most.  Our egos come in, edge the Divine out, and get our order of priorities all jacked up.

Self?  Let me check the list….Yes!  You go up here at the top, naturally.  Like the star on the Christmas tree.  Look at you shine sister.

Others?  What have you done for me lately?   Hmmmm… Go ahead and head down, third from the bottom rung.

Children?  Y’all are still here?  Good grief, haven’t we raised you already?  Get close to the top, I’ll put you on my shoulders and let you hold my star.

God?  Stick close in case I have a prayer will ya?  Thanks so much.  Also, could you stand where I bask in your glow?  It’s all about the lighting you know.  Did you hear me quote your bible verse from memory earlier?  How about that huh?

Bless.

Here’s the thing about our Ego.  It edges God out, but it also edges GROWTH out.  A fruit cannot grow with an ego in the middle of it.  Want to grow some fruit?  Dump the ego.

Don’t know where to start?  Throw out the “should haves” when it pertains to others, no one owes you anything.  A fact I continue to learn daily.  We were not promised a life without bad times.  We weren’t promised a Leave it to Beaver family, or a support system that looks like the traditional one in our mind.  No one comes to earth and escapes alive, or lives a life without sorrow.  Find your joy.  Even the worst of days has some joy tucked in the seams, even if it’s just a perfectly timed cup of caffeine.  Recognize and identify what makes your heart lighter.

Want to know some of what we ARE promised?

One who will fight for you…. Exodus 14:14.  Renewed strength …Isaiah 40.  A companion in fearful moments…Isaiah 41.  Unfailing love….Isaiah 54. Freedom….Isaiah 58. Wisdom.  Forgiveness.  Eternal life. Comfort. Refuge. Deliverance. Peace that transcends all understanding…and so much more.

Peace comes from remembering that only love is real.  Look past the surface and see the underlying truth…everyone is a child of God and filled with love.  It may be hidden behind our egos, but it was put there.  Love is there.  Look for the light within you and others.  Guess what water and light do?  They grow things…like fruit!

If you feel like our apple tree, take hope that God is in the business of growing.  He delights in gardening, ask for help in developing your orchard.  May we be recognized by our sweet fruit.

 

Family, Love, Parenting

Above All Else…

The gentleness of Jesus is always what brings me back to His teachings.  His humility and love, His simple way of looking at things.  On the spectrum of Jesus, I’ve occupied a lot of different spots – a fan, a hopeless skeptic, a follower, a stubborn brat, a believer, a disobedient wanderer, an admirer, frustrated, confused, and in awe of Him.  In my early adulthood, I got tired of trying to figure Jesus out, so I quit.  I laid Him down for awhile as I would a book that was too long or hard to read.  I felt He was too complicated and I was never going to able to please Him.

In the Chris Tomlin song, he describes Jesus as;

Who walks on the waters
Who speaks to the sea
Who stands in the fire beside me”

It is almost too good to believe that One with the power to walk on the water and speak to the sea, would still have the gentle lamb-like humility and love to stand in the fire beside me.  Not just standing beside me, but wanting me to know and believe I have power through him.

What has broken my heart more than anything on my spiritual journey is what has been referred to as the “Christian Machine”.  So much in fact that I have found myself pausing before labeling myself a Christian.  What I will claim is clinging to and learning from the teachings of Jesus.

Please don’t read judgement in that last paragraph, for I have played a part in the legalistic machine as well.  Years ago, I sat with a friend, crying over the death of her mother, and then she asked me if I thought her mom was in heaven.  I mentally checked my Christian Rules and Regulation handbook made by man and replied, “No”.   I completely based this on the way she died.  I had never met her mom, nor did I know her heart.  Such ignorance took the place of love.  Even though I have since gone back to fix it, the posture and judgement of my heart grieves me to this day. I think Jesus grieved that day as well.

As Bob Goff says, “We keep pushing people off of the roofs that we need to be lowering them down from.”  There is enough love for everyone, it multiplies when used, and it never, ever divides.

Above all, love each other deeply…” I Peter 4:8

It’s as simple as Jesus said love.  I have a gay son, and it is well with my soul.  There have been some things we have had to unpack and work out, but God was so gracious to give me a peace from Night One.  (When hard things come in my life, I can’t help but count the days.  My friend Amy says we know we will be okay when we wake up and forget to count.  It’s true.)  It wasn’t a peace that took away the questions, pain, or fear for his future – but it is a bottom line peace.  A peace that says all will be fine because he is mine, perfectly and wonderfully made.  The saddest part about him telling me that he was gay was the first sentence, “Mom, I’m a Christian, but I’m also gay and I don’t know where that leaves me.”  It was a failing report card on exactly what I had taught him about Jesus.  Forgive me Creator.  Jesus said love, so I’ve added His love on top of my Momma love and it is truly well with my soul.

I know what the bible says – so please don’t quote it to me.  For if you do, I’ll gently weed through your rule book and point you to Jesus’s bottom line.  Love.  Above all else.  (On the days I’m struggling to love you, I’ll just point to my “Mama Bear” bracelet. Because every mother has a mission; to love, guide and protect her family.  Don’t mess with her while she’s on it.)

Listen, I’m a front row student on this – and some days back row, sleeping behind my text book.  We all have our quicksand – life is sweet, we are walking along, loving the mess out of life and people…then boom, quicksand.  We step into it without even realizing it and is sucks the love straight out of us.  What’s left is rating and judging. It’s easy for me to love our family stuff, but yours?  Eww.  How about when we feel unloved, yet are still called to love?  What does that look like for you?  Hard. That’s what it looks like for me.  My nerves can be sat on faster than a hot knife through butter.  I believe we all would be happier and more whole if we each had a Love Snuggie.  Our arms would be free to be the hands and to do the love work, while our heart and core would be wrapped in the warmth of a love-snuggie hug.  Just think about it, it might be a great addition to your capsule wardrobe.  Nowadays they come in all sorts of prints and patterns, even leopard.

If none of this sparked a love fire in you, let me come at it from a different angle.  Beauty tips.  Loving and carrying for others reveals the best version of ourselves.  Which means our prettiest, youngest looking version.  Better than any wrinkle cream.  For reals.  Just test it.

Let’s open our hearts, blow out the dust and allow it to be filled with love.  If we are judging, we are not loving.  If we aren’t loving, then we aren’t pointing to the teachings of Jesus.  We may end up in quicksand from time to time, yet we always have a choice to reach for the love rope to pull us back out.  Grab the robe, hoist yourself out and start loving.  I doubt we would ever regret such a decision.

Loving you BIG friend.

*I will eventually share some of my writings regarding our journey with Mason coming out almost two years ago.  He has given me permission from the beginning, I am just choosing to respect and honor the space of what is intimate on this journey.  Until I feel that time is right, my ears and heart are always open for anyone on a similar journey needing a safe place to chat.  Or a hug because life is sweet but sometimes hard.

 

Family, Forgivness, Grace, Lessons, Love, Patience

Pippi, the Indian, and the Lessons throughout

I love you sugar, come see us when you can.”

I can still hear him saying that.  Even though our grandmother had passed on years before, he always ended our calls with “Come see us when you can”, perhaps it made him feel less lonely.  My weekend visits to see Pippi began when I was in high school.  I would take a friend, as I believed the pink brick house in Claude was haunted in ways I can’t fully explain.  It just was.  Later, I would plan my visits around when cousin Monica could meet me there for a visit with our beloved grandpa.  When Pippi passed away, it was Monica that called to tell me, which was fitting, as he was the tie that brought us together in our adulthood.

Monica and I with our sweet Pip

I was older by the time I really got close to Pippi.  He had lost an adult child (my dad) and his beloved wife of 44 years. He mourned for them deeply, but kept living.  He didn’t have another choice.  On every visit, we would have some reason to go into Amarillo – usually to shop, see more family, or for church followed by lunch at Furr’s Cafeteria.  A certainty on these visits, was that on the way home, he would exit I-40, turn left and enter into the graveyard that held our loved ones.  In my younger teenage years, this was weird, but comforting in an odd way.  It was the only time I had to pay my respects to the dad I barely knew and our sweet grandmother, both who left too soon.

Monica and I were very protective of Pippi.  His favorite thing to do when we came into town was take us to the café for breakfast, to show off his granddaughters.  In his later years, the locals weren’t as kind to Pip as we thought they should be.  A few years before he stopped driving, he was put on a new medicine that made him sleepy.  One morning, on his drive to the café, he fell asleep at the wheel, crossed over into the two oncoming lanes of traffic and landed his car into the building that faced the courthouse.

Claude is a small town in the panhandle of Texas, about 30 minutes east of Amarillo.  One of the town’s monuments was a cement Indian that stood out in front of the antique store.  Unfortunately, when Pippi’s truck finally rolled to a stop, it had mowed the sacred Native American statue down.  Thankfully, the non-breathing, cement man was the only casualty of the accident.

The folks of Claude handled this news hard.  The grief-stricken people had a funeral for the Indian and buried him.  Let me be clear for those in the back – they buried a CEMENT STATUE. When travelers driving down highway 287 started asking the locals where the antique statue went, they dug the cement Indian back up, pieced him back together as best they could, and stuck him in a wheel chair for all to see and enjoy again.  I kid you not.  Creepiest looking thing ever.

Visiting the Claude Indian. Poor McCray wouldn’t even stand by it. They even laid his cement fingers in his lap. Grief makes you do funny things.

It was after that incident that the locals weren’t as kind or patient with Pippi, and his granddaughters didn’t like it one bit.  Breakfast wasn’t as sweet when we were dodging the looks of disappointment and judgement.  Sometimes I think they thought that our Pip might have talked too much, which is exactly when Monica and I would really ramp up our interest in the story that we had already heard seven times before.

Pippi was a patient man who loved at all times. We chose to take his teachings and reciprocate the love back to him.  They say grace is like working a muscle, the more you work it, the stronger it gets.  The love muscle works the same.  I never saw Pip lift a weight or run a block, but boy did he exercise the right muscles.

Once, we had a family reunion in Irving, three of us cousins took our grandparents car to the store to get bread. Our grandmother, Tootie, didn’t want to lose their good parking spot at the hotel we were staying at.  It was right in front of their room, so you can see why this spot was coveted. So, she had sweet, obedient Pip stand in the parking spot while we drove off to get some white bread. (Pippi may not have had a t-shirt stating, “Happy wife, Happy life”, but he lived by the mantra. Smart man.)  On our quick trip to the store, we made several detours, including dropping by to see a friend of Monica’s. You should never trust a new driver to make a quick trip, two hours later, we pulled into the hotel parking lot to find Pippi still standing in the good parking spot.

Now that I’m an adult and a parent to a driver, I can’t fully put into clean words the irritation I would have with my kiddos had it been me standing in the good parking spot during a Texas summer, for several hours. But Pippi didn’t show any anger, he wiped the sweat off his brow and simply asked if we got the bread.

Two things warm my heart about that memory. He stood there in the Texas heat to keep Tootie’s good parking spot, because…happy wife, happy life.  Secondly, the three teenage granddaughters who needed to be reprimanded, were instead gifted with patience and grace.

Pippi loved at all times. He loved when it wasn’t convenient or easy. He loved at times when others weren’t loving or lovable. He extended love and grace. He provided a safe haven for so many of us.  In a complicated world, he was not.

Nowadays, we speak of love languages. And I’m fairly confident that Pippi covered all of them. Quality time – he was always happy to offer to all of us. Words of affirmation – he was never shy about sharing how much he loved us. Physical Touch – there was never a shortage of hugs.  Acts of service – he spent years protecting his country & providing for a family.  And the final one, Gifts – I think all of us cousins would agree this was covered by consistently providing sugar cereal to the grandkids, and in later years, breakfast at the cafe in Claude.

Love is patient, Love is kind, Pippi not only understood this, but created a life around it.

And his granddaughter is still gleaming from his example.

 

*My apologies for those offended by my use of the word “Indian”.  Since I am one, I deemed it okay to use it in my blog post.  I normally use the term Native American, but that is not the name of the statue in Claude. It’s name is “Indian”.