Rise Above

My mom has lots of sayings.  These identifiably southern beauties are from her many years of living.  I used to make fun of them with my sister but friends now I just chalk them ALL up to her wisdom because she has lived her truth well.  I'm packing 35 years y'all.  I genuinely understand things more because these sayings are tied to life experiences.  (It is worth noting I think she's the origin of my love for linguistic jazz.  Playing with words.)

Here are some of my favorites, and I make no promises about future blogs with these because they all have a story and are just down right awesome.

"Birds of a feather flock together." (This was originally from my grandmother who used this often.  We pass these things down like that in this family.  Essentially watch who you hang out with.)

"Well, that's his little red wagon and he's going to have to pull it."  (Consequences, friends.  There are consequences from our actions.)

"I didn't know him from Adam." (That's a good Southern one right there.)

"Different strokes for different folks." (Also an amazing 90's TV show.) 

"Nothing ventured nothing gained."  (She uses this one the most I think.  She is always venturing and trying new things.  She's a doer and does until success is reached.  Thankful for this quality.)

"He/she is skating on thin ice."  (Cautionary phrase.  She's a teacher.)

"People are different."  (Perhaps the most intellectual one but so appropriate when extending grace with things we don't understand.)

"In a pickle."  (Shakespere original.  Very helpful.)

"Well garden seed!!"  (Jesus loving curse words right there.)

"Mercy!!" (Again more of the above.  Used often.)

"Every barn needs a little paint."  (My grandfather used this one often.  It's so true whether you agree or not.)

"Glory be!" 

"For Pete's sake." (When something surprises her this comes out.)

"Walking on eggshells."  (Being careful with certain people are around as to not offend.)

"Your halo is slipping."  (When I did something growing up she'd say this as cautionary humor.)

"She's shining her halo."  (More angel humor for the one who is feeling oh so good about herself.)

"Don't air your dirty laundry."  (It's totally useless to air it dirty, as are careless words and random acts of making a stink of yourself.  Grace. Transparent grace, yes.  Waving freak flag, no.)

"I always was glad you saved your uglies for home."  (Meaning, I'm really glad you didn't get into trouble in school and I could handle your bad behavior at home.)  

One of my favorites has been when she has said to me, "Carla, rise above. You are going to have to rise above."
I need to tell you that I don't often like the situations that I explain before she says those wise words.  In my history of being a daughter, they've usually come from situations of pain.  Heartbreak.  They mostly always involve interpersonal relationships.  Her next comment is usually, "I want to beat them up for you."  Mute point here. (Amen if you're a mama or in a position of caring for another's soul.)

One of our favorite beaches is an island developed by a wise businessman. He purchased the entire island and began to sell the plots of land, one by one. In 1954, Hurricane Hazel came through the island and completely covered it sound to sea. Of the few homes that were there back then, his was the only one remaining after the storm.  In fact, it still stands there today.

He built his house on a hill.

The rains came down and the floods came up and his house on the hill stood firm. (Hand motions optional to those who know that one.)

His house is perched above the flood waters, intentionally built for protection from the storms.

I'm reminded of a friend going through a difficult time right now. She is facing some intense pressure she has to pray her way through.

I'm thinking of her wise words.  The way she greets Jesus first every morning.  The way she uses Scripture to fight for her.  I see her rising above.  I see her being mocked and yes, I want to beat them all up, but instead I pray.  I connect with her and I hear her heart.

Her rising above isn't belittling those around her. It's praying for her enemies.

It isn't expressed with sarcasm, that nasty form of pride that puffs up and pushes away, it's words of love.  Prayers of grace.

Rising above she understands she is not in control or knows the distant future.  It's intimately knowing a very good and all powerful God who sees and hears and knows.  He has a plan and she knows it is intended for good.

It's not her fighting with gloves on.  It's her wise words to me, "I am standing still and He fights for me."

Life is messy, and, well, God isn't done with us.  God sometimes steers us away from one path and into another.  He all the time is teaching us.  

Rising above looks like wisdom. It's remembering who holds your head up above the flood waters so your crown does not fall.  Rising above attracts you to people who support you in your path.  Rising above isn't just survival mode, you are in a position to thrive.  Be productive.  Glorify our Maker.  Watch with anticipation where He leads next.  

Royalty friends.  In Christ wearing his seal you are royalty.  Royalty acts wisely.  Royalty looks to the throne for confidence.

Royalty always rises above.  The floods are coming and so are my prayers.

The Grey Shoes

It's Mother's Day ("Mudder's Day" if you ask my five year old) and I am sitting here alone.  The quiet time with God and writing helps me process and become better for the loud, usual times around here.  I believe my husband has taken my girls to get me something, and, well, that's all fine and good but I am just happy.  I'm content.  I'm thankful that I just feel fulfilled with these people God has given me.

Now I will tell you that a little nip and tuck would be nice, ok?  Well, except that when you start fixing one part the rest starts looking worse, or so I hear.  (Like the plastic version of "If you give a mouse a cookie"?)  I liked my idea of saving for a little lift for the girls until I had unexpected surgery and let me tell you general anesthesia is no joke.  So now I just embrace it all.

This same tummy I work hard to try and flatten?  It housed two precious babies for nine months.  Right under my heart.  The stretch marks on my sides I like to call "tiger tried to get me but I was too fast and got away.  Rawr!"  Mine on my lower belly?  That second little one was a long, long baby and she just kept dropping.  I call those "drop um like they're hot".  (Because battle scars are oh so hot, in case you didn't know.)

I have a bellybutton scar and five additional scars from the removal of my third precious baby who sadly didn't make it.  I don't blog about this often so bear with me.  I'm not sure how, but going shoe shopping with my mom the other day brought this all on.  And, well, God asked me to write about it so here we go.

If I am ever in need of anything for my wardrobe, my mom comes to the rescue.  Her store is Belks- Modern, Southern, Style.  We go and we shop and we browse and we meander.  She always knows what is fashionable both for all ages.  It's just her thing.  Sometimes she needs to pry me out of the house.  It's not that I don't like being "put together", as she says, it's just I'm not quite sure where my wants and needs intersect sometimes.  If my shoes fit, and they still feel good, I overlook their ratty appearance.

So when we went shopping the other day, and I found a pair of tan leather flats I loved, I just wasn't sure if I really needed them.  So my mom asked, "Carla, when was the last time you bought dress shoes?"  So I went through my dress shoe list.  There are the amazing black flats I had to get from Payless way back before kids.  I got those beauties in my husband's small little hometown.  (I had forgotten my bag at home and had no clothes or shoes and my Type A freaked out but I love those shoes.  He works all things for the good and He sure does in the form of women's shoes.  Someone is giving me an amen I can feel it.)  Then there were those great gold flats from Target that I got on clearance but really should have gotten a half size larger because they are beautiful but useless.  Just dang useless.  

Then she asked me about my shoes I was wearing.  I looked down at the grey shoes on my feet.  They suede ones with the rhinestones on the top.  Bedazzled like an 80's beast.  Then I said, "Oh mom.  I got these after my OB appointment.  Remember when you watched the girls?  I called you from the parking lot."  

These grey shoes reflect so much of me right now.  I have hung on to those shoes.  They are starting to get ratty, I've thought a couple of times perhaps I should donate or toss them.  But I have hung on.
Down the road from the doctor's office was a shoe store where I could decompress and I found the glitziest pair of grey suede shoes I could find.  Comfortable enough.  Grey.  With a glimmer of hope.  Just like I was feeling.

I went home and had no answers for my mom or husband.  The doctors are still surprised I made it through my particular miscarriage.  I am meant to walk this earth longer and thankful to God, is what I thought.  My shoes never made up for this loss but I sure did try.

So I wear these shoes.  Year after year.  Three and a half years have passed now.  They really are a great color.  Grey goes with pretty much everything (feel free to correct me) and well, the glitter.  There is hope in the glitter.

There is always hope in the glitter.  

I told someone the other day that becoming a mother isn't about the baby years.  It's about the growing years.  It's not about when they are four months, but 14 years and older that we hang on to.  It's seeing them grow in front of us into the person God intends for them to be.  It's about the grace God gives us just to be a part of it.    

It's also about growth for us mamas.  It's not about me as a mama to a little baby, it's about learning how my baby grows and helps me become a better parent and become the woman He intends for me to be.  It's about counseling those little lives and in turn having God do heart surgery on me.  Teaching me more of him.  Drawing me to himself even if my prayers are simply, "Lord, help me." It's bringing me to a state of humility that I don't have all the answers, but I am connected to the One who does.

So these shoes are getting donated.  My mom has politely asked me to do so.  She is right.  They are ratty.  They are well-worn, a little tear stained, and well, it's time.

This side of heaven I didn't get to meet that little one but the loss of his/her life has surely met my heart.  It has met me with so many lessons learned, with gratitude paving the way for my future.  I will surely thank that sweet one in heaven for my growth here on earth.

Even though the life has passed, the love lessons continue to rain from heaven.  

I thank God for how it has brought my husband and I closer.  I'm at a place of daily thankfulness for our two babies on earth.  The ones that are shopping for me something.  They will probably wrap it all pretty with a bow and proudly give it to me to open.  Tell me they chose it special.  That they love me and goodness knows they may never know how much I love them.  They just may never know.

They are my gift this Mother's day.  

God has turned my grey into gladness.  My mourning into thankfulness.  It may not seem like it at first, but with the hope eternal there is always some glimmer in the grey.  Sometimes it's hard to see, but it's there.  

Happy Mother's Day.

Feel the Crunch

Hmm.  So I just need to sit back and document today.  This mama has learned so much educating my children off the beaten path.  Learning that has not even included my children at times.  So when I found an outdoor center to take my children to, I jumped on it.  Mostly- well, we've been done with our curriculum and we just need to play.  We love the outside and these children need their minds filled with more things than mama can give.  (Still praying they remember the good and not the "mama hide your crazy":)  

So play we did.  We drove up to the day camp and although I could still hear the distant highway, I felt like we were definitely in a more peaceful place.  The man who greeted us wasn't wearing shoes and had a hole-filled shirt on.  He led my girls to field games.

I stayed back just to hang out because I figured these folks are really groovy and maybe I need to be here.  It was calling me.  They welcomed me with open arms and well, we just did it.  We did the thing.  Half-day camp.  Walked deep into the woods to logs circling a fire hearth.  Guitar played by a man covered in mud.  Man clad in plaid playing the tambourine.  We shared what we were thankful for.  We sat in our thinking spots, directed to use our senses to hear the sounds, feel the earth, touch the flora, smell the forest.  I did all that while I texted my husband.  I told him I would pay out of pocket for this experience on my own.

It's not every day that you see a grown woman welcome a bug to crawl in her hair.  And while my oldest was telling a leader that we had a ton of inchworms in our trees I was praying Lord, please don't tell her daddy went on a rampage and tried to kill them all with whatever poison solution he could find, spraying the air with machine gun precision. Please Lord.  I already don't fit in here, as she directed my daughter to place the inchworm outside of the circle to preserve its life.  I sat in my preppy workout clothes and pearl studded earrings.  Ann Taylor Loft sunglasses.  Fit bit attached religiously to my left arm with my nice shoes on with the inserts for my geriatric ankle.

I tried to fit in.  I mentioned to the lady leader about her bare feet, "You are into grounding, right?"  She said yes and sometimes tries to grocery shop barefoot.  You see, I've read about this stuff but I can't really tell you I've completely dived right on in.  (The research is there, I have yet to take a step.)

One of the mamas eating a Larabar letting her child lay on the ground, "I have a homemade recipe for those with my Vitamix."  She loves her Vitamix and travels with hers too.  She wants my recipe.  See, not so different.

So when my phone went off during circle time, I was embarrassed.  I mean, really, how disrespectful can I be?  It was like a church service, and you know the church people give some ugly looks for that kind of deed.  No dirty looks.

I was feeling ok, then my littlest says to the man in mud, "Ooh.  That guy is agusting." No one responded so she needed to say louder, "That man is a gusting!!"  And one more time as she sat on my lap.  "He is agusting!"  So I said, "It's for the bugs.  He needs it for the bugs." If anyone was offended, no one said a word.

So this is the thing.  I love crunchy.  I actually love all kinds of people and I'm really quite preppy as evidenced with today's happenings.  I have these daughters that mostly match.  They love their hair braided.  Nails painted.  Compared to these kids today, they're not crunchy.  I have a husband who really isn't crunchy and refuses my homemade deodorant (but willingly will let me make him some shave cream).  After battling parasites from international travel, I live a shoe-filled life.  Wash your hands after you dig in the dirt.  Watch out for the poison ivy and if you can't identify it, just stay away.

I want to demonstrate to my girls that they are unique.  Fearfully made with a purpose.  Those around them?  Regardless of how similar or different they are, there is a reason for their paths to cross.  To connect.  To live and love and yes, feel different.  Feel the rub with others and reach out in love.

What I learned today is that I am needing to give up more to God.  Maybe this jump isn't that clear to you reading.  But these events were evidence- the discoveries each child had, the leaders stopped to listen in amazement.  The children running through the woods playing a game, needing to dart from poison ivy?  Well, that was part of the fun.  Finding a snake and holding it.  Yes, holding it.  Singing a song in a circle in the forest, letting our thankfulness emit from our mouths, and going barefoot.  Going the heck barefoot and using duct tape for bandaids.  (I am not making this stuff up.)

Letting go a bit.  Stopping to listen.  Turning our phones off and just being.  This is not far from what God calls me to do.  Very different and yet so similar.

So I'll continue to place my girls in these situations where they need to find their bearings and feel different.  Learn from others.  Collect friends like bouquets and know you can never have too many flowers.  The different ones add delight to the bunch.  Letting down their social barriers and connecting.  And giving handmade deodorant to those in their paths who need it.