Tough as Nails

I ran into a pole last week. With the car. Not sure if that makes it better or worse but it reminded me of how stinkin’ hard I can be on myself. It didn’t damage the car *much* and was totally no big deal at all but I was ill as a hornet with myself. First thing I did was run in the restaurant and ask the hostess to please tell me how many other people had done the same.

None? Stellar. Moving on.

Took me right back to when I was 9 years old and spilled milk at the table and ran off to my room to punish myself. My parents couldn’t stop laughing long enough to clean it up or to come get me out of my self-imposed time out.

As a teenager I had ONE super rotten moment where I got brave enough to sneak out of the house. With Chuckie Zoom Zoom and the Get-Along Gang. Brilliant. Went egging and toilet papering WITH OUR YOUTH GROUP (that’s a blog post for another day!). Totally got away with it. 100%. Woke up the next morning and ratted myself out. Went to every single house and cleaned trees and driveways and front porches for hours while I cursed myself.

I’m cracking up now just thinking about it but the reality is, 9 or 17 or 31 years old, I have this tendency to be hard on myself.

Same thing with Sugar Britches. I am having a complete BALL! Absolutely so much fun and so much grace being poured out through the business.

At the same time, I will hem and haw and sweat and pace over making sure I get every single stitch just right. I am a people pleaser (irritating flaw at times) and a perfectionist (ridiculousness) and it makes for an interesting combo some days.

See Coop's shirt? Because his middle initial "W" is super duper wide and "C' and "D" are tall and skinny, the monogram comes out looking off centered. It's not though. It's just because of his initials. Will our next child be named according to symmetrical monogram letters? Possibly. Kidding. I'm not that crazy. Ok, so I've tested a few 3 letter combos just to see. I digress.

Same thing with my work at CHOA. I lose sleep over making sure families are happy and that my babies are making progress. Some days I just can’t let it go. It comes from my heart—it truly matters to me that people are happy.

I pray over Coop that he would somehow miss out on this silly trait and know that all that he does is just plum pleasing in his Father’s eyes. And in mine and Chris’. Except for that time he tee-teed on his curtains. And the floor. Not pleasing. In any way. 

To find the balance between striving for good (not perfection) and bringing joy to others (not getting in a tizzy over pleasing people until I can’t see straight) is something I need to work on. As a wife, as a mom, as a friend, as an SLP, as a Sugar Britches.
How ‘bout y’all? How do you find balance and keep yourself in check?

Sermonator

Went to see the Sermonator today.

God love that sweet man.

He's the only cross-eyed booger I would let operate on me with one hand tied behind his back, standing on his head any old day.

I won't sugar coat things (I'll leave that for Sugar Britches--wooo Sugar Britches! Best. Thing. Ever.) It was a tough appointment.

I went in ready to come running out with a game plan and instead, I walked out praying that God might just teach me how to be graceful.

Cause I'm just not.

Dr. Sermons feels like we are at a crossroads. No more meds. No more procedures. No more poking. No more prodding. At least not for now. It was the first time he said it and even though I did the ugly cry, I needed to hear it. He feels like what we're up against is just the aftermath of the chemo monster. It's just that simple.

What's the most beautiful and amazing thing to me is that although cancer took a lot from us, it didn't take Chris. The man I am upside down and inside out crazy about still snuggles up to me after we tuck Coop into bed each night. He is a walking, living, breathing miracle and that is worth more than anything in this entire world. The icing on the cake is that every time we look at our little pistol britches, we are instantly reminded that God gave him to us. GAVE him. He was born into this world just days before Chris got diagnosed. God's timing was perfect. He knew just what we needed and just when we needed it.

I prayed and prayed and asked God to play a particular song the whole way home today. If He would play it, I would feel Him and know that He is still working his good work in us and that our story is not over yet.

It never came on.

I waited. And waited. And waited.

I did jazz hands to Justin Bieber and went through the Chick-fil-a drive thru (surprise). I went to the bank. I stopped to get gas. I went to Hobby Lobby.

And then I pulled in our driveway.

And it came on. It's not even popular any more. But there it was. Amazing how He washes over us at the very minute we need it. Simply amazing.

"And be CONFIDENT in this: the God who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it"

Philippians 1:6

Cranky Tank

I needed a little Grace poured in my cup this morning.

Don't know why really, but I've been puny this weekend. October rolled around and oh my gracious, how I LOVE October! Sweaters and tall boots and tall pumpkin spiced Starbucks drinks and bales of hay and changing leaves. I love it all! Only this October, we were supposed to be bringing our baby girl home. On top of that, we just found out that Blue Cross won't cover our visit with the reproductive endocrinologist so we can see what our next steps are. Whatevs.

We got up, got dressed, and scooted to church and I was just about beside myself, waiting for worship to start. You know that feeling when your soul just craves worship with others? Our church is busting at the seams (praise the Lord!!), so we got there about 45 minutes early this morning. Nerds.

We dropped Super Coop off at his class (no tears-thanks to the fact that it was "make-a-sword-our-God-is-mighty-Sunday) and I settled into our seats while Chris served.  Long story short, I ended up giving up our seats to a family with a itty bitty newborn. It was fine. It really was.

Only we got moved to the overflow room. Also known as the mama/daddy/newborn baby room. And we I (Chris was still serving) was surrounded by tiny pink babies.

And there I sat, trying to watch worship on a TV screen, eyes welled up with great big ol tears.

Ridiculous, I know it.

God met me there and reminded me to be humble and gracious. I fought with him and reminded him that I am weak and cranky. I grumbled and shuffled in my seat . Until He broke me. Again. And again.

Remember, we are right where he intends for us to be. Maybe not in this situation, but in the grip of His grace.

I have the best husband in all the world. He took one look at me (once he found me) and understood. We ended up scooping Coop and coming home and bouncing in the bounce house. Cooper was tickled that I had on my "pirate" boots so he could sword fight me. (He won).

I fought with God some more while I made pimento cheese samiches for lunch. I went to move Coop's Sunday School paper off the counter and his weekly verse nearly jumped up and slapped the butterknife right out of my hands.

"The Lord will fight for you, you need only be still". Exodus 14:14

Ok, God. You win. You are mighty and good and your plans far exceed the cranky tank ways of my day today. And oh how I thank you for that.