Filthy floor

Today was not the best day. The cranky baby made crankier by her awesome new teeth. I had literally just sent a text to a friend lamenting motherhood when I felt like I got a little slap on the hand from God. 11 years ago- I longed for this life, begged for this life, made bargains with God for this life. And it is a full good life. Not one gift as I begged for, but four amazing beautiful children. The slap on the hand though came to me by way of a small picture flashing through my head, a picture of a baby- my baby girl- crying on an unknown filthy floor. She may have days where she cries, but God placed her here, with us, where she would never know crying alone, never know neglect, never stop crying because there isn't a response. I am thankful for that small picture as sad as it made me because it helped me remember our why.

Easter Sunday

"But as for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and he will stand upon the earth at last. And after my body has decayed yet in my body I will see God!" Job 19:25

Its Easter Sunday. My friends and family are headed off to church. I am getting He is risen texts and see it all over social media accounts as well, I even respond with the correct response. My husband just sent me a text of most of the family in their Easter gear ready to head off to church, gear I picked out months in advance. And yet here I sit, on my living room floor, second espresso in hand, ripped jeans and white tshirt and tears streaming down my face.  You all, my heart is sad and I am tired. 

I read over my past few months of blogs and facebook entries and texts to friends and I am realizing how far I have slipped and how far away from God I am. Some how in the last few months of what we have termed here "survival mode" I have let go of the only rope that could actually save me.  And have continually tried to do it on my own strength, Hawkins strength. Can I just say that is impossible.  Hawkins strength will get me tired and sad and wondering how to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I could stay here, ruminate on all the reasons it happened, but the reality is that isn't what I want heard today.

It is not ironic that today, Easter Sunday is the day I open my eyes and look around and see how far I have gone, and not in the right direction. Because today, Easter Sunday is the day we celebrate the only way to get back to where I want to be, safe in the arms of a loving God.

When I was in junior high, I had the best Sunday School teacher in the world.  We loved her so much. And I am going to leave you with one story she told to demonstrate our need for relationship with God.

There once was a man and woman, so in love and doing all they could to spend time together. She would climb up into the cab of his truck and slide all the way over the bench seat until she was snuggled up under his arm, and she would ride like that wherever they went.  The years went by and at some point, she stopped sliding over the bench seat and just stayed by the window.  One day she looked at him and said, "how come we don't ride around like we used to, with your arm safe around me?" and He replied "I am not the one who moved."

Are you dried up? Are you weary? Do you find yourself able to tell the Easter Story in your sleep, but for whatever reason it just doesn't grip you like it should? Maybe today, this beautiful Easter Sunday you can find yourself sliding a little closer to God on the bench seat.

Sadness

I have started this post about three times.  I just don't know where and when to update.  One day you could talk to me and I could be on cloud nine after a good talk with a social worker or a milestone met. Or the next you could talk to me and I could be in the depths of despair from a stressful visit or lack of communication.
So here is where I am today: feeling a deep sadness. There is sadness in knowing an hour spent with her family makes her clingy for the whole next day. There is sadness in knowing siblings are also processing. There is sadness that her family can't be whole. And there is sadness thinking she might not stay. It seems as if there shouldn't be both kinds of sadness. But there is because her life's story will always bear the marks of sadness, whether she stays or goes. And I just have to sit and process that while I rock her.

Someone let me off this roller coaster

There are weeks between posts, as Tim and I just live and breath and keep everyone alive.  We are finally settling into the swing of four, when one of those four is a newborn. Today felt like a pretty big milestone, as we were able to travel to Wichita and back to take in a show and everyone was able to enjoy it! I think that all new parents have to find their new normal and maybe (fingers crossed) we have finally found ours. BUT the thing is that as soon as we find a new normal, new normal slips into the next new normal. If we feel comfortable where we are then inevitably we will get a phone call or text or email that will shake up what we are comfortable with.
Our sweet little puddin is 3 months and one week old today. That means she has been a part of our for three whole months.  It has gone so quickly and yet so slowly. Starting this week we will share her with a little more frequency with her family. While we are very happy for them, we are a little sad for us. Sharing means admitting that she isn't ours, that she might not stay and that she actually belongs somewhere else. So as we ride this rollercoaster, bare with me when I occassionally ask for the exit. This mama's heart can only take so many rides up and down.