How Real Are My Nightmares? An Open Letter to All My Friends Who Are Hurting

I already hate the title of this post. Of course nightmares aren't real. Isn't that what my mother would reassure me as she shook me awake on those terrifying nights? Waking up in a cold sweat, I'd finally realize oh, it was just a dream. I'd tell my mom about the dream, we'd identify those fears, and I'd go back to sleep in peace. 

This morning, I awoke at 2:48 to my 2 year old screaming on the monitor. (Yes, we still use the monitor. Don't judge me). I jerked awake and went into Soldier Mommy Mode, albeit a fourth watch, exhausted soldier...but a soldier, nonetheless. Walked into her room and immediately knew that she was having a nightmare. When Cola has a nightmare, she's completely inconsolable. Nothing seems to soothe her. It's proven that time and time again, the only thing that seems to work is asking questions and being present. She doesn't understand that it's just a dream. To her, it's still very real. Very strong. Very very scary. So I ask the same three-five questions over and over again. In different ways and in different tones until something snaps. The whole time, trying to remain aware of just how very real these emotions are for her. So here's how tonight went. 

Mind you, many of these are repeated over and over again.

Round 1
"Are you sad or does your tummy hurt?" No
"Do you want me to change your diaper?" No
"Want Mommy to lay down with you?" No
"Do you want me to lay with you, or hold you?" No
"Do you want me to sing to you in your bed or in the chair?" No

Round 2

"Does your tummy hurt?" No
"Do you want Mommy to leave?" No
"Do you want me to lay down with you?" No
"Can I sing to you?" No
"Do you want some water or your bear?" No
"Can I lay down with you?" Ok

But she changed her mind. She did not, in fact, want me to lay down with her.

Round 3

"Are you sad?" No
"Do you want me to hold you?" No

Over and over again, with the questions and the crying. My kid was stuck, and so was I. In the dark of the morning, laying in a crib that was not built for my hips. 

So I decided a new approach. I got out of the crib, picked her up, and held her while I sang various songs she loves. Holding her felt like carrying an ironing board through the rain. My t-shirt was wet with tears, she was so tense and resistant, and I couldn't see to save my life. We sat in the chair and I continued to sing while holding my sad little ironing board:( It was breaking my heart. I wish she understood that she's safe and I'm here. 

After half an hour, she fell asleep in my arms while I sang "Deep in the Heart of Texas". I new song she'd never heard. This was after I had asked 2 more rounds of questions, gently massaged her head, and gave her a few gentle ultimatums. 

The song isn't what worked. The massages and the ultimatums aren't what calmed her. It was time. She just needed time. 

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I find myself struggling to wake up from my own nightmares, sometimes. I feel stuck in my thoughts. I know that my perspective is NOT reality, but I just can't help but feel petrified and incapacitated. Those emotions, coupled with the anxiety and panic seem so very real to me in the moment. I ask God to help me, but I feel so alone. I don't even recognize that He's right there in that situation with me, asking questions and being present.  My fears, my worries, the uncertainties of the nightmares in my life- I mix it up with reality. My reality should be that I'm safe and He's here. So it takes time. 

Someone in your life is going through a nightmare of their own. At a glance, it seems ridiculous, but for them- it is so very real. Are you asking questions and being present? Are you allowing them time to heal or are you rushing them to move beyond the nightmare without reassuring them "you're safe. I'm here"? So many of our loved ones and dear friends are stuck in these situations they didn't ask for. Some of them are experiencing the nightmare of knowing that their situations are because of them, and what a scary thing that is as well. We are not called to wake them up. We are called to be with them and to soldier through those moments, like watchmen in the night. 

As a parent, I always feel like Jared and I are always alternating "watch duty" in the evening. Colette has always struggled with night issues on and off. This morning, I was curious so I googled the various  forms of the word and their context. 

watch- 1.to look at or observe intently over a period of time. 
2.keep under careful, protective, or secret observation
3.follow closely or maintain an interest in
4. exercise caution or restraint about
5.look out, or be on alert for. 
6. be careful
7.remain awake for the purpose of religious observation. 

and my favorite 8. a body of soldiers, making up a guard

Here are some religious references to the word (for you nerds, like me): 

Third Watch. (The Breaking of Day Watch from 12:00 A.M. to 3:00 A.M.) This is a period of much spiritual activity. This watch hour will strengthen your faith. It is the same time that Peter denied Christ three times.

Fourth Watch is defined by the Roman watch as a time spanning from 3am – 6am. Biblically, strategic events take place particularly during the night and early morning hours/watches: Jacob wrestled with God and met Him face to face just before entering into his destiny as Israel.

All throughout scripture, God uses people in specific times to keep watch. The shepherds watched their flocks by night, the Israelites kept watch over the city gates, the disciples kept watch while Jesus retreated for prayer, the soldier kept watch over the tomb where Jesus laid, we are to be on alert for the coming of the Lord as well as the thief in the night, and in Hebrews, we're told that our leaders "keep watch over our souls". 

So someone needs you just like my sweet baby girl needed me tonight. We all have a part to play in this body of Christ. I know you're tired and you have nightmares of your own, but you're not alone in this. We're all in this together. So I pray that you get some rest, knowing that I'm taking the first watch. 

With Love, 

Kari 

The Stacks of Life

Yesterday, after attending an all day retreat, I came back to my humble home and family saturated in blessings and encouragement. My poor husband, ya'll. It was like the scene from Cinderella when she comes back from the ball in a daze and the step mother can't figure out what she's up to. She's paying zero attention to what's going on around her as she sways and sings all the way up to her room. But instead of a room- I plopped down on the couch:)

Later in the evening- I couldn't stop talking! I couldn't stop being amazed at what God was doing in my life, how fortune I was, and how very anxious I am for the future. Jared was happy to hear all that I was experiencing, and we talked about it late into the night. Then again in the morning, and on the way home from church this afternoon. Unloading the groceries, I felt grateful for what we had. Like a deaf man hearing birds chirp for the first time, I was suddenly awakened to my new sense of gratitude and peace. It's not that we didn't know the birds were there- it's just that we weren't able to fully experience them. I don't even have the words to describe what I'm trying to convey for you right now. So many new sounds. So little time.

I unpacked the groceries and put them away. Then I sat on the floor of my kitchen and my almost 2 year old came down and sat right beside me, saying "Hi, Mommy" with the sweetest of smiles as she cuddled into my side. I closed my eyes, put my hands around her tiny little body and prayed a whispered "thank you".

I looked up at the counter and noticed the odds and ends that covered the kitchen counters. Everything out of place. Random, and I mean totally RANDOM items were all around. I thought to myself how did that get there? It's so random. Why didn't we just put it where it belonged? How do these things managed to get stacked like that? No wonder I can never find anything.

The moment with my daughter had passed, and I rose thinking about the clutter. I expressed my thoughts to Jared and we laughed as I told him "There's a sermon in that". Which is something I find myself thinking a lot, lately. God is in this moment. What's He showing me?

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I can never find a pen. No wonder. Looking at the picture above, I can see why. It's way at the back of the counter, blocked from view by the detangler, hair brush, unused wallet, broken pencil, and a load of other things.

What happened to the check I got in the mail? Ummmmmm- no idea. It wasn't something I thought to put up because the counter was clear at the time. I didn't know all of these other things would pile up.

Can't we put the baby monitor in the same place each time? I never know where it is! It's like having a 5th remote! And the iphone charger. How am I supposed to see that when it's buried under paper towels and oven mitts?!

These, my friends, are The Stacks of Life. We can play The Blame Game and say that the mess is because of everyone else- but just for today, I want to be honest with myself and take ownership for the stacks that I know are mine.

I can relate each of these items to a personal struggle that I carry. Somehow, I believe that Jesus is showing me that I need to stack more carefully. I need to organize my heart.

I can never find my courage because it's hidden at the back of my heart. Blocked by fear, worry, anxiety, and past hurts.

 I can't remember the encouragement my husband gave me this morning because I placed it nonchalantly in my heart without really recognizing it's value. On top of his words, I stacked a discouraging text, a disappointing bit of information about a family member, and my insecurities about my weight. No wonder I couldn't find kind words to repay him later on that evening.

Why can't we keep God's truths in our hearts for when these things pile up? How are we supposed to find truth buried underneath the weight of darkness and lies? God, help us organize this mess!

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What are the proper places for these things? Where can I set these things that life hands to me?
If it's anything like my house, and I'm seeing that it SO very much is, then I have two choices.

Place it in a basket and put it upstairs or take it to it's proper place.

Sometimes I put the things labeled in my mind as "I have no idea what to do with this" in a small laundry basket and I take it upstairs for the time being. I don't have the brain power to deal with it right now, so in the basket- it goes. Then little by little it finds a place. Sometimes it takes just a day. Sometimes months... and let's be honest... sometimes it gets thrown in a closet and I don't see it for a year!

Can't we do this with the Stacks of Life most commonly known as our "junk"? We don't know where it goes. We don't know what to do with it, and we definitely can't make much sense of it in our current state of mind. We don't want it out there for all to see and for people to trip over. We want it tucked away somewhere until we can fully find a place for it. Can't we "take it upstairs"... to the "man upstairs", and put it at the feet of God Almighty? Wow. What a safe place for it to be, right? I'm excited now.

Or if it's something that I've put up before, and I have a place for it- why not take the time to put it in it away? Brushes go in the bathroom. Jewelry goes back in the box on my dresser, pens go in the pen box... (yes. I have one), and the broken pencils should have been thrown away a long time ago.

You know where some things go. You know that your joy should be thrown back into your family. You know that your brokenness can be shared with both Jesus and a dear friend whom you trust. You know that the attention you seek on social media could easily be supplied by your loving husband if you'd just take a minute to accept his embrace. Of course Jesus will hold anything you want Him to hold, but He's also given us vessels on earth that provide us with proper places to set our things back down. Some things, dear friends, should have been thrown away a long time ago. Cast out and removed from our hearts. Those toxic relationships, those Netflix shows that you only watch alone, or the sarcasm you keep jabbing at your loved ones. Throw it out. Put these things in their proper place and clear the counter.

May we find God easily when we look for Him. May His words be hidden in our hearts and His praises ever be on our tongues.
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Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.- Matthew 11:28

Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me- Psalm 51:10

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.- Jeremiah 29:13

I have hidden your word in my heart, so that I might not sin against you- Psalm 119:11

Father we come to you today, asking you to help us deal with our stacks. We praise you for All of your works that are happening around us, and we ask that you'd do the same in our hearts. We ask that you'd give us the strength to place our whole lives in your hands. Give us the diligence to seek out proper places to lay down our struggles and share our burdens with one another. Let us find new ways to disperse the distractions in our lives, trusting that your truth will be seen amidst the clutter. May the heart of our homes be cleared of all things that would hide your love and your precepts away.  May we always find kindness. May we always find grace. May we always find YOU. Enter our homes and our hearts. Clear out our spirit and make room for Your love to sweep through, covering everything in it's path. We love you, Lord. We welcome You to come have Your way in us. 

Getting Angry at Markers

10:48am

As I sit down to write this one thought, Colette is on the floor throwing a tantrum for the 3rd time today, and the song "In Control" by Hillsong is playing in the background. What a necessary reminder.

I lift my hands to heaven, hear our hearts surrender
I tell my soul again- you are Lord of all

So let me get this thought down and then get back to my kid.

"I want someone to love me when I'm angry at markers". 

Ok. That's it. I'll explain later.

12:27pm

She's asleep. Thank God she's asleep. I'm hoping this will be the thing. Moms are always searching for a thing, ya know? The kids have plenty of things going on, but Moms have to spend extra time trying to find the WHAT IN THE HOLY HAND GRENADE IS WRONG WITH THIS CHILD?! thing.
Sometimes it's a nap. Sometimes it's a little outside time. Sometimes it's a few teething tablets, and sometimes it's a whole ring of Double Stuffed Oreos while watching Sing on Netflix for the 5th time that week. Today my thing was a Dr. Pepper and a chili dog. It just made everything better.

Colette usually isn't so hard to figure out, but today she's been a Rubik's cube. It all started this morning. I was gone until 8:30 for a morning meeting and when I walked through the door, Jared told me she was already having a rough time. No big deal. She's been having grumpy wake-ups lately. Around 9, however, she got to where I couldn't even leave the room without her screaming "No" repeatedly. She threw a marker at me because she couldn't get it open.

My kid colors with markers. I know she's 18months, but she's gotta learn. The most difficult part is not keeping it on the paper. It's getting the cap on and off. She's gotten so much better, but sometimes it's still a bit tricky. Today, she absolutely lost it over a tricky cap. She threw the marker and began a full on kicking, sobbing, and screaming fit. I tried to console her, but she just kept getting angrier, pushing me in the process. It was so bad that I had to walk away. She had already been in Time Out twice. I had already tried many distracters. Nothing was working. Colette needed to figure it out on her own. I headed to the computer and typed down my thought.

After I typed down my thought, I took a deep breath, got up from my computer and behind me, Cola was holding her arms out for me pick her up. Snot running down her nose and into her mouth. Red rings around her puffy eyes and matted hair from rolling around on the rug in her fit of rage.

Is this how Jesus sees me? When I'm mad at markers, and pushing away his love. Is this how I look? 
God, teach me how to love her like you'd love me.

She curled up into my arms, rubbed her nose into my neck and we walked back into the playroom. We sat down and I put her hands underneath mine, on both ends of the marker and pulled. It popped right off. She smiled that glowing "everything is ok now, Mama" smile and I melted in the moment that God was giving me.

I know it wasn't the marker. It's never the marker. It's all the things leading up to the marker.
Colette may be battling an oncoming sickness, she may be feeling some anxiety brought on by lack of sleep, she could be super whiny because she just doesn't know how to fully communicate yet. The marker was just one more thing that was getting in the way of her feeling like her normal self. So it set her off.

When I have a Marker Moment (let's go for full on cheese here), Jared and the people closest to me have to walk away. I look absolutely ridiculous to them and they don't know how to handle me. Only Jesus can handle me in that moment.  I can be screaming about a dirty living room, deep down hurting over the actual dirt in my own heart. Suddenly everyone around me is lazy and insensitive, all because I'm feeling unappreciated and worthless to the people I love.

Only Jesus can bring me to the point where I'll curl up and trust someone again. Only Jesus can sit with me and teach me how to get through it, putting that glowing "Everything is ok now" smile back on my face.

1:16pm

She just woke up from her nap. She's playing in the ball pit and feeding her baby an array of fake foods. I guess the nap was "the thing". For now. 

In a minute she'll want to go outside and that will be the new thing. Right after that, she'll beg me to go play upstairs and wrestle on my bed. 

Later on in the day, she'll want to color. With markers.

Because it's never the "markers" that were upset with. It's the idea that we'll never get it open. It's the idea that we'll never change. That we'll never overcome it. Thank God for His helping hand. Thank God that we can trust Him to see us through. 

Rainy Day Lessons

"Maaaaaaaa!" Collete screams up the stairs.
"Yes Ma'am?" I call down, knowing very well what she's expecting of me. She wants to go outside. Once again. In the rain. This time it's straight up POURING outside and I've no intention of getting my rain boots back on and trudging through the mud.

Then I remembered the last time we played in the rain and how much I loved that feeling of freedom falling on our faces. The lasting bond that was created as my daughter saw me dance in the mystical water from the sky. It was mesmerizing to see her experience that for the first time. Why would today be any different? Why does it only have to seem special the first time? I decided that we would go.

I pulled on my faded houndstooth boots, put her in some play-clothes and out we went! She ran immediately to the first puddle she could find. It was seriously 6 inches in diameter, but she couldn't help herself. The whole time I'm thinking squishy socks! ew. gross but she didn't mind one bit.  The next puddle was much bigger so Mommy joined in on the fun. I giggled like I was 4 years old again. Cola kept laughing my name "mhaa mhaa" and pointing at me to indicate how silly I was. I learned that she's not afraid of a little silliness because I showed her that. I showed her how to enjoy the rain, so attempting to stifle that would be to undo something magical that we shared. Ended up following her around for 45 minutes with an umbrella covering us (mostly me) and reflected on how very special these moments can be. So much of the time, I tried to keep her covered, but she'd run off too fast or go into a tree that was too low hanging for me to follow. It's funny how much we think we're meant to shadow our children when God clearly has them on a path meant only for them.

A few days later, it was still raining but we caught a little break. Stir crazy and itching for adventure, we drove to the park. I brought three towels with me in order to wipe off the soaked slides. Apparently two towels wasn't enough and my best efforts to keep her "dry" were once again unavailing. The biggest slide on the playscape was a real doozy. It had more bumps and curves than any other in the park. The first time I went down it, my mother was in town and she just happened to catch a video of it. I liken that experience to the first time I ever rode the Judge Roy Scream at Six Flags. Thrilling, but back breaking. Leaving my body ajar but my dignity intact. If you can manage it, you look like a real rock star.

So of course this is the slide my sweet angel wants to attempt. She gets to the top as I finish wiping it down. She says to me "wa wa, whoa wa wa Ma ma!" I responded with one of those Sure-Whatever-You-Say-Baby-You-Can-Do-It cheers, having NO clue what she's telling me. She sits down. braces herself. Pushes her body forward using the sides of the slide and WHOA WA WA WHOA MA MA, I suddenly understood. She gets to the bottom and flies, I mean FLIES face first into the ever so soft (Thank You, Jesus) mulch. Her bottom is soaking wet. Apparently, Mommy had not wiped down the very top of the slide. My baby gets up-like a total boss-and brushes herself off, saying "gin, Ma ma, gin" running back up the stairs to brave the slide once more.

How many times can I say that I've had that kind of courage? It's not courageous when you don't see it coming. Its courageous when you see the obstacle and face it. You see the thrill that could follow even though it scares you at the time. You see the danger but you have the faith to know you'll be safe. She amazes me how fearless she is. What amazes me more is that she doesn't realize it. She has no idea the amount of awesome the Lord has placed in her tiny little body. She doesn't grasp the notion that her sweetness is the stuff of compassion, placed specifically in her heart by the Holy Spirit Himself.

All of this and more.

And as her "Ma", I have the utmost privilege to watch her dance in the rain, seek out the smallest puddles, and fly down the wet slides of life. Completely unaware of the feeble attempts to stop her or slow her down. I pray this is always the case. I pray that as she grows, she is more aware of the God of rain, than the rain itself.

Blowing Up Instagram

Really? I'm the mom that blogs now?

I guess so. It's happening. I'm the mom with no adult interaction all day, so this is my outlet.
I'm the mom who knows I'm not alone, and I'd like to journey with others.
I'm the mom that loves Jesus and journaling. I owe that to my own mother. It's cool to look back and see how far He's brought you.
I'm also the mom that blows up instagram- and I don't apologize for it. I'll probably be doing it well into the season of my life in which I'm a InstaGramma. Though by then, the images will probably teleport from my brain waves. Who knows? #technology

It's not that I think my kid is the most amazing kid to ever cross the street. She's not Jesus. She doesn't sneak out of the house to go and sit at the feet of our pastor, eager to hear all the wondrous things about God. We aren't there.... yet. She does say "a-nen" at the end of our bedtime prayers and I think it's the cutest thing since Lucas the Spider. 

It's not that I take a hundred pictures of her a day and then crop out the ones I don't like. I keep them all... and it's a real problem. It's just .... I love her so friggin' much and I'm bursting with excitement over being her Mommy!!!!! Don't get me wrong- my kid does bad things, too. Just now, she screamed at me because I wouldn't let her play "Hide My Feet in Mommy's Bra" while I changed her diaper. Ok, kid. I get that you're innovative and have such a brilliant and original mind, but these toenail scrapes across my chest are a bit alarming. She does more good than bad, though. I'll be sure to share both exciting and embarrassing moments so you don't think I'm the Virgin Mary.

I guess the real reason I'm blogging has to do with the fact that I've not been documenting the things I love most about her. I don't want to be old and decrepit one day, forgetting how her feet used to curl and wave in the air while she watched The Mother Goose Club on Netflix. I don't want to forget that her favorite game was Closet Monster or The Tickling Lobster Clamp. I want to remember it all, while saving a little time to talk about my own growth as well. I want to remember how Jesus had a hand in it all. And I'm a sharer. I like sharing my life with others:)

I hope that someone who's on the same path or in the same season can relate and delight in my stories along the way.