A big decision

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We had Bette’s end of the year conference at school, or as I like to refer to it, the big conference. In the days leading up to it, I wondered how it was going to go since her last one didn’t go so well. I was both excited about it and dreading it. Would they tell us she had made significant gains this spring? Or would we hear, again, that she still wasn’t making enough progress for her hearing age and IQ?

We didn’t know what they were going to say.

The conference included everyone – all her teachers, therapists, and the school director. Bette has quite a little team, I must say. And we were so relieved when they all said the same thing, which was she has made a lot of progress since our last conference and they couldn’t be more pleased. We asked a lot of questions, like we always do. But the general consensus among everyone was that she is on the right track.

Because her words are growing clearer. And she doesn’t have that deaf sound when she articulates them, even the higher frequency sounds, like f and s. She is stringing more words together to make phrases and sentences. And while we can’t understand everything she says, we understand her more and more. The conference could not have been more encouraging and we are thrilled we are ending the year on a high note.

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I spent a great deal of the winter season in meetings. Meetings about where Bette should go to school next year. And the big questions was, should she stay at the private school she attends now, or should we put her in the public school, special education system?

I talked to all her teachers and therapists. I consulted with all the people who work with her. And I tried to keep an open mind and let the research lead me where it may.

But mostly, I prayed, for months and months, that the Lord would show us what was best for Bette.

I was very tempted not to pray. A part of me did not want to. I wanted to make my own decision. That really would have been so much easier.

But still, we owed it to Bette to pray for her; to set aside our own preferences, opinions, and wisdom and seek His will for her. Because she is His and she is on a path that He has set for her.

And after months of praying, we finally figured out the answer: she needs to stay where she is.

Because she loves her school. She has a great team there, who all love and adore her. And they are giving her exactly what she needs. And when her needs change, they adjust and change with her. They change the plan. They change her teacher. They change her classroom. They do whatever it takes. Because more than anything, they want to give her everything she needs to be a fully hearing, speaking child.

There is no doubt it is the best place for her. But we are still trying to process that decision. We are calculating the cost. And we are reworking our budget.

We are also taking very deep breaths. We are preparing ourselves for what is to come. And we are trying not to hyperventilate, or be overwhelmed by the ridiculously large number that is staring back at us from our spreadsheet. (Yes, we have spreadsheets. We are nerdy like that.)

But it is where the Lord has led us. It is what He has shown us she needs. And when it comes to our babies, how can we be anything but obedient?

 

Sweet and seven

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Sweet Lilla B finally turned seven. I say finally because she has been counting down the days forever. She was so excited and so ready to leave the age of six behind her.

I, on the other hand, am sort of lamenting she is not six anymore. It seems an invisible change takes place when girls go from being six to seven years old. They are leaving forever the little girl phase of life. And overnight, they become girls. Or young girls. Or young ladies. Or whatever you want to call them. They are just no longer little. And it was a bit sobering to watch my baby leave her little years behind her forever.

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But all my mixed emotions didn’t hold us back any. We partied hard. Her big day began with her gift from JackMike and Julie – a long awaited for American girl doll. She was giddy when she opened it and immediately proceeded to name her new doll Emily. Emily then accompanied Lilla, JackMike, and I to a birthday breakfast. Lilla and I sat on one side of the booth, and she had the biggest (and messiest) plate of chocolate chip pancakes. JackMike and Emily sat together on the other side of the booth. Emily did not eat.

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That night, I made Lilla’s requested birthday dinner – noodles with butter. But not before she opened her gifts from us, which were a glittery purse AND… a pogo stick. She told me the day before her birthday that she desperately wanted a pogo stick. How she even knows about pogo sticks I don’t know. But I jumped on Amazon and overnighted one and it arrived for her birthday. And she was so happy. And as you can see, Bette was pretty happy for her too.

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Her party was a few days later at our favorite bakery. I discovered about five years ago that they host parties, and for five years I have been trying to convince Lilla to have it there. And finally, this year was the year it sounded like a great idea to her. We invited all her good friends, and ended up with the perfect number of ten.

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This was my first year completely outsourcing the party planning, and it was awesome. They bakery did an amazing job and took care of everything. Hats, aprons, favors, cake, icing. We just had to show up.

And it was a good thing too. We are all so tired and worn out as the school year comes to a close that if we had to spend an entire Saturday preparing for a party, decorating the house and making tissue puffs, it might have done us in.

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The girls were so cute, sweet, and well-behaved. And Lilla felt so loved. Which is all I really wanted. Homeschooling is always a balancing act, especially when it comes to birthday parties. I always have a few days of anxiety at the start of the planning process about who are we going to invite and do we have enough friends and damn, I should have scheduled more play dates throughout the year and for God’s sake, are enough kids going to be able to come to make it feel like a party? Because there is not an automatic group of friends to invite, like if Lilla was in school. But then I get it together and realize it is all going to be fine. And it always is.

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Most of the girls Lilla loves to spend time with were able to come. And what I love about the picture of them together is that only two of the girls go to the same school. All the others go to different schools or homeschool. None of them really knew each other. They just all knew Lilla. And I love that she has sweet friends from all different areas of her life. It is a blessing I am thankful for.

And I am so thankful for Lilla and the girl she has grown into. I could not be any prouder of her and I can’t wait to see what seven holds!

 

 

Mother’s Day at the strawberry patch

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I had a wonderful Mother’s Day weekend. It was busy, but good. Of course, no Mother’s Day is complete without a gymnastics recital, which kicked off the weekend’s festivities. Lilla was so excited to show off her moves. She has been practicing in the yard for weeks. She did so great. She even had her very own cheering section, led by none other than Miss Bette herself.

I also got a lot of sleep, which I have been desperately craving, and ate some delicious meals, the best being the Mother’s Day breakfast Jay cooked. We also went to the strawberry patch, which has become our Mother’s Day tradition, and then made homemade strawberry jam, from the 8 million strawberries we picked. We even had a visit from Aunt Mimi and Cousin Alex.

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The whole weekend was lovely. And I am so thankful I get to be a mama to these two precious souls. I adore them so!

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A Golden Nugget

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I was standing over the stove cooking dinner. The backdoor was open. The birds were chirping. The ducks were quacking. And a warm breeze was blowing.

The girls were outside playing, and it was all so peaceful and lovely and quiet.

Until I hear my six year old. Her voice is raised – at her little sister. Then I hear my three year old. Her voice is raised too, but in a fussy, whiny kind of way.

Her big sister responds by raising her voice even more. And then the three year old fusses even louder right back at her. Then, I hear the six year old yell, “Fine. Here. TAKE IT! BUT YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BE MY FRIEND ANYMORE!” And she marches away.

The three year old cannot let this stand. She clenches her fists, slams her arms down to her side, stomps her foot, and loudly says “Hurmph!” at her sister.

She begins to climb the stairs. She is coming to get me. After two steps, she stops, turns around, slams her fists down, stomps her foot, and says “Hurmph!” again at her sister, although a little louder.

She starts up the stairs again. She takes another two steps and turns around. I think, “Oh great, more grunting.” I am wrong.

Instead, she looks straight at her sister, who is way across the yard. She takes a deep breath, and then screams, and I mean screams, as loud as she possibly can at Lilla.

And she screams complete and total gibberish. It makes absolutely no sense. And yet, it does. Because whatever she is screaming appears to have sentence structure, punctuation, an introduction, and a conclusion. She is making a point, a very loud point, and she makes with all the force she can muster from that little body of hers.

When she finishes screaming, after quite some time, she starts back up the stairs. At the top, she turns around and just for good measure, throws another foot stomp and grunt in her sister’s general direction. She then marches into the house to find me.

Another mother, a better mother, probably would have used the whole incident as a teaching moment. About loving your sibling, sharing, or the importance of not losing your temper.

In my attempt to be as mature and helpful as possible, I threw myself down on the ground and laughed hysterically. And because I was no help to Bette what so ever, she eventually gave up trying to get me to intervene and went back outside.

But that little one – the one with so few words that can’t hear half the time – is going to be just fine in life.

The secret to true rest

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Like I said in my previous post.

A good bit happened last weekend.

I also cried.

A lot.

 

I sat on the sofa Sunday night.

When the weekend was finally over.

And it was all said and done.

And sobbed to Jay.

 

About how tired I am.

And about how burnt out I am.

With homeschool and speech therapy.

And childrearing and homekeeping.

 

Because it never ends.

Any of it.

There is always one more thing to do.

At this stage of life.

 

There are always more dishes and more laundry.

There is always more cleaning and more folding.

There is always more math and more grammar.

And there is always more therapy and more teaching.

 

It never ends.

It is always oncoming.

And now that we are at the end of the year.

I am completely exhausted.

 

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened.”

 

I am weary.

And I am burdened.

But how long have I put off.

Going to Jesus?

 

And when I do go to Him.

Don’t I usually rush it.

And throw my prayers up to God.

And not really connect with Him?

 

“And I will give you rest.”

 

It is rest that I want.

And rest that I need.

And Jesus offers that to me.

And yet I do not go.

 

I am too busy.

With dishes and diapers.

And dirt.

Or so I tell myself.

 

I long for rest.

I crave it.

Jesus offers it to me.

And I do not go.

 

“Take my yoke upon you.”

 

It’s because of that yoke of His.

It scares me.

Don’t horses have yokes?

And donkeys?

 

Who wants that?

I don’t.

I don’t want to be yoked.

Like some dumb old donkey.

 

“And learn from me.”

 

But could it be.

Maybe, just maybe.

That it is His yoke.

That will give us the rest we so long for?

 

Is it my resistance to His yoke.

And my refusal to listen.

That makes it seem like it will all be.

So difficult and unpleasant?

 

Could it be that the moment I yield.

That is when the Lord.

Gives me the strength and joy.

To do His will?

 

“I am meek and lowly in heart.”

 

Why do I refuse to yield?

Why do I chaff at the bit?

He offers to put.

In my mouth?

 

When He assures us.

Of both His meekness and lowliness.

And that His gentleness.

Will meet our every need.

 

“And I will give you rest.”

 

He promises us rest.

When we come.

When we surrender.

When we obey.

 

He will give us rest.

Real, deep rest.

But the kind of rest that can only be found.

In nearness to God.

 

When we come to Him.

And set ourselves at His feet.

And fix our eyes on Him alone.

That is when He begins to give us rest.

 

Because only then came we listen.

And hear His still, small, holy voice.

His voice that is mightier than a storm.

But which also calms the sea.

 

Jesus calls us to Him.

“Come to me.”

And He makes us a promise.

“I will give you rest.”

 

And all He asks us for in return.

Is that we listen to Him.

And learn from Him.

And give Him our undivided attention.

 

For just a little while each day.

He asks us to come to Him.

And to carve out time.

To be with Him.

 

It is the simple secret to finding true rest.

 

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