The One Thing EVERY Mom Wants on Mother's Day.. And it's Not What You Think...

"Give her the day off."
"Do something active together."
"Send her to the spa."
"Don't send her to the spa, it's too crowded on Mother's Day at the spa."

The messages are loud and clear.  No, I take that back. The messages are loud and seriously confusing.  Every article says something different.  Every blog has a different formula.  Just yesterday, I read a Facebook post that said, "Men, don't let your wife get off of the couch on Mother's Day."  And directly underneath it was another Facebook post that said, "I find it seriously insulting that people think Mother's Day is about doing nothing.  I want to go on a rigorous hike with my kids on Mother's Day."  It's no wonder men approach this day with fear and trembling.  They don't know how to "win."  They want to win.  They do.  But every idea seems as good as the next and at the same time, as horrible as the next.  Cooking your wife a home cooked meal could be a huge win.  Or she could be ticked off that now there's a mess in the kitchen.  Having the kids serve her breakfast in bed could really win her heart.  Or it could make her seriously frustrated that she didn't get to sleep in longer.

Men, do you want to know what every wife wants on Mother's Day?  I'm serious.  I know I just disputed the idea that every wife wants the same thing, because clearly that's not true.  But this?  This is what we all want.

To be known.

That's it.  It's that simple.  Know her.  Like, really know her.  Be a student of your wife.  Know that your wife really wants to run a family 5K on Mother's Day.  Or that she wants to sleep until 11.  Know that she actually hates that big, fancy brunch and she'd rather eat a breakfast burrito from a yummy hole-in-the-wall joint.   Not every mom wants the same thing.  So know YOUR wife and love her how SHE desires to be loved.

And if you still don't know or can't figure it out?

Ask.

Seriously.  Just ask.  Not in a, "Hey, so it's almost Mother's Day and I was wondering what you had planned?" kind of way.  But in a, "Hey babe, Mother's Day is almost here and I want that day to be a celebration of who you are.  I want you to feel loved and cared for.  How can the kids and I honor you best on that day?"  Ask it with love and with genuine interest.  I know it's only 2 days away.  The lie you may believe is that it's too late.  It's not.

Now moms, this is where our role comes in.  If your husband asks you what you desire to do on Mother's Day, be gracious.  Take it as a sign that he cares.  Closing the gap between expectations and reality is a daunting journey.  If your husband is willing to make the effort to close that gap, then receive it as an act of love.  Don't belittle him for not knowing.  Your relationship is a journey and whether he has you figured out already or he is intentionally continuing to seek you out, it's beautiful.   It's all beautiful.

And in just 6 short weeks, us moms get the opportunity to return the favor on Father's Day.  So be gracious.  And thankful.  Seek to know and be known.  And if it all falls flat?  Choose grace.  :)

Tons of Grace...

I was racing to meet my In-laws, who were returning my 2 'Littles' to me after having them for a sleepover.  I had left Jon at home with the rare opportunity to have a few hours of quiet in the house that he desperately needed.  His seminary classes are intense this semester, so any moment of silence and space for study time is golden.  My in-laws and I had found a great "halfway point" between our houses, and on this day, I was running late to our meeting place - the Bed, Bath and Beyond parking lot.  I pulled in and searched for their jeep.  I couldn't find it.  Whew!  I beat them here!  As I pulled into a spot to wait, I began to read through some emails and scroll Facebook to pass the time.  After a little while, I decided to text my mother-in-law to let her know I was here, but to take her time. (I know wrangling 2 Littles is a feat of its own.)  That's when I saw it.  The last text that was sent between us.  "We will drive the Littles to your house at 1:00." Oh. Crap.  I didn't read that text well the first time.  You can't skim over texts, Deanna!  I'm at the wrong place!  I just drove 25 minutes for nothing.  JON IS HOME FOR INTENTIONAL STUDY TIME AND 2 LITTLES ARE ON THEIR WAY!  I quickly called Jon's cell.

Jon: Hey babe.
Me: Um, hey.  Are you home alone?
Jon: Yup.  Why?
Me: Well, I'm sitting here at the "meeting place" to get the Littles... except I just re-read the text and your parents actually said they'd drive the Littles all the way to our house instead. I am so sorry, but they're going to be there any minute.  I obviously didn't read the text closely.  I've just been a mess lately.  I forgot to run that one errand yesterday, and I haven't sent that letter I said I would, and..
Jon: (interrupting my rant) Babe, I have tons of grace for you.  Tons of grace.

That's where this story ends.  Oh, of course the day continued on and there were 2 busy Littles and afternoon baseball practice and dinner on the run.  But nothing mattered after those 3 words.  Tons of grace.  I have tons of grace for you.  Has anyone ever said that to you?  It stops you in your tracks.  Quite honestly, it's been 2 weeks since that moment, and I still haven't gotten it out of my head.

We live in a day when grace is scarce.  You messed up?  I'm done.  You disagree with me? Let's battle it out on social media.  You let me down?  You're cut off.  These words, this phrase... tons of grace... it is counter cultural.  Oh sure, we extend grace at times.  But let's be honest.  Most of the time we dabble in grace.  A little here. A touch there.   Not too much though, lest they miss the point that I'm HIGHLY offended.  Not too much though, lest they think they're off the hook.

And if we're honest, the hardest people to extend grace to, are those closest to us.  (Read: often times, family.)   You know who I have tons of grace for?  Neighbors.  Friends.  Other people's kids.  But if my kids leave their backpack in the middle of the family room one more blasted time!??!  Or my husband forgets that thing he pledged and promised to do?!?  It's on like donkey kong!  That's probably why Jon's words struck me so much.  The one that's closest to me? The one I probably fail the most? THAT person has TONS of grace for me?  It's ridiculously overwhelming.

Who do you have grace for?  Who don't you have grace for?  Where might you find an opportunity to extend tons of grace?  I promise you, the opportunities are there.  A spouse running late.  A friend who flaked. Again.  A neighbor who is too loud.  A child who did that specific thing you said not to ever do.  A driver who cut you off.  A grocery checker who is slow.  A waiter who messed up your order.  Tons of grace. Tons of grace.

2 weeks ago, I felt like God used Jon to invite me into a "tons of grace" type of living.
I'm up for the challenge. Are you?

Let there be GRACE on Earth and let it begin with [God in] me.  :)

Hello. It's Me. ;)

Do you have a friend you know well, and you love, but you haven't talked to in a long time?  You know the friend.  The one you would love to reconnect with, but you would need at least 2 hours of heart-to-heart talking, just to start scratching the surface of the lost time. (3 of mine are pictured above)  So when you're in between Point A and Point B and you have 5 minutes before arriving at Point B and your phone rings, and it's THAT FRIEND, your insides die a little because you know answering the phone won't work right now.  5 minutes isn't enough because you haven't talked in for-ever.  So you let it go to voicemail because you can't possibly pick up the phone with the friend you need 2 hours with and be like, "Hey! Oh man, I'm good, how are you? Cool, I gotta run now." Because that would be weird and awkward and just not right.  So you miss that call and wait for a time when you have some space to talk...and  more and more time just goes by... And it's not because you don't love each other and want to talk.  It's just that to re-connect properly, you would need time and space, and Lord knows that's a hot commodity these days.

OK.  So that's me.  With you.  Yes, you. The one reading this right now.

The holidays hit the Ramsays (and the rest of the world, or course!) in full force.  Lot's of speaking engagements, lots of neat opportunities, lots of decking halls and fa-la-la-ing.  So. Fun.  Not to mention Jon started his adventure with his new, post brain tumor part time job working with a non-profit + part time seminary student at Talbot.  (which = full time awesome, amazing, crazy, FULL, exciting, pushed to the limit, life.)  (see blog: "We're Out of the Waiting Room" from Sept. 15 for those details. I would link to it, but I DON'T KNOW WHAT THOSE STEPS WOULD BE. Don't judge me. I'm a hack blogger.  A Hackgger. Whetevs.)

Then came January.  Exhale.  And then there was me going, "Man, I miss my blog.  I miss the people I get to do life with via the blog."  But, The Time.  The 2 months that had passed.  I couldn't just hop on and say "Oh hey!  I'm good, how are you? Cool."  I would need to sit and catch up.  The whole "2 hours of heart-to-heart" thing.  But who has space for that?

And then came the "other blogs." The ones I would see passed around social media.  The ones that promised 10 days to a perfect marriage, 7 steps to the perfect kids and 5 steps of faith to receiving God's healing.  All while I walked through divorces with dear friends who DID ALL THE STEPS, and counseled parents  WHO USED THE BLASTED FORMULA, and I spent time with my sick mother who WE HAVE HAD ALL THE FAITH FOR.  So many promises. So many formulas.  The idea of blogging got less and less appealing.  I'm not like them.  I don't have all the answers.  I can promise nothing outside of whatever Jesus Himself has promised.  I have a husband who we pray healing over daily, who has yet to be fully healed.  I have kids who love Jesus but don't pick up their Bible on their own.  I have a load of laundry in the washer that's going on it's 3rd time through because WHY CAN'T ANYONE REMIND ME TO PUT IT IN THE DRYER THE SAME DAY?  The struggle is so freaking real.

Then there were the articles on social media that actually said something really, really well.  Like, life-changingly well.  Like, life and hope and truth.  And my dirty laundry (literally) just seemed like it had no place next to real, legit fancy people.

So time went by.  And things would happen and I'd think, "Oh man, I'd love to share that on the blog. Oh wait, that would be weird.  I can't be like, "Pray for Jon - he had social anxiety for the first time ever and I think it's related to his hearing loss but we don't know for sure" because you'd be like, "Woah, slow down the train.  Who are you again?"  But whatever.  Here I am.  This is our 2 hour talk.  Our re-introduction.  Because God hasn't released me from this Living Out Loud thing.  So I'm here.

Well, I was here. But the spin cycle is done and for the love of all things good and holy, I CANNOT wash that load one more time.

2 Years Ago Today.... (my personal therapy...remembering through writing) Part 1

It was 2 years ago, today. Jon and I had just gotten home from leading worship at a conference at Hume Lake.  Well, Jon actually never got to lead worship with me.  He stayed in our room the entire weekend - with a horrible headache and throwing up.  I couldn't even turn the lights on.  He was miserable.  As we drove home though, he started to feel better.  It must have been a 48 hour flu.  By the time we got home and the whole next day, the headache was still there, but was much more mild.  No more vomiting.  

The following morning, Tuesday, Oct 1, Jon went to sit up in bed and he grabbed his head and buried it back into his pillow.  "Ow, my head still hurts!"  He laid there for a few minutes and then slowly sat back up.  He was fine.  He must have just sat up too quickly.  I rolled over and told him I would call our family doctor and get him an appointment.  He said he didn't need to go to the doctor.  I told him he should at least get checked out after vomiting all weekend.  He reluctantly agreed, and I was able to get him a 4pm appointment for later that day.  At 3:45, I received a text from Jon.  "Not gonna make my appointment.  In a meeting.  I feel fine. Please call and cancel."  Okie dokie.  I canceled his appointment and got ready for Jon's parents who were coming over for dinner to celebrate Morgan's 2nd birthday.  Having 4 kids was kicking my butt.  Our surprise #4 (Reese) was only 8 months old and life was busy - I felt like I still hadn't figured out how to do 'life' as a party of 6.  

Jon's parents arrived, Jon got home from work, we had dinner, celebrated Mo, and then Jon took Jackson outside to throw the football around.  My mother-in-law pulled me aside.  "I'm concerned about Jon.  He doesn't get bad headaches like he did last weekend.  Why don't you take him to the ER while we're here and can watch the kids.  I know he won't go if I (his mom) tell him to.  But if you can persuade him to go, I think he will listen to you.  You might as well just get him looked at."  I told her I didn't think I could convince him, but I'd try.  Jon's Pop then pulled me aside.  "Mary Ann is really concerned about Jon and how sick he was this past weekend.  And she's not going to rest until she knows he's ok.  Which means I won't get to rest either.  ;)  If you can get him to go to the ER, it would give her peace of mind."  The 3 of us broached the subject with Jon between football tosses with Jackson.  He thought it was the silliest idea.  "I'm going to the ER because of a head ache?  No way.  So lame.  Besides, I'm not spending $100 to go to the ER." (money was very tight)  Jon’s parents ended up leaving… and returning after 10 minutes. They had driven to the ATM and arrived back on our doorstep, handed Jon a $100 bill, and said, “Just go. We’ll watch the kids.”  On the way to the hospital, Jon and my conversation went like this:

Jon: What am I supposed to say when we get there?  My mom made me come because I got a headache?  

Me: Well, let’s tell them about the head ache and the vomiting. And you should also mention your hearing loss in your right ear. (For several months, Jon had noticed he had hearing loss in his right ear.  Because he wears in-ear monitors to lead worship several times a week, he thought he had blown out one of his eardrums.)

Jon: OK. I’ll tell them that.  I guess I could also tell them that for the past week, the right side of my face has felt kinda numb and tingly.  

Me: (eyeballs HUGE, freaking out inside, but staying totally cool and calm on the outside) Um, ya. I guess you could mention that too.  I didn't know about that.  (Seriously babe!? Why haven’t you mentioned that?!)  

Jon: I think I just need to eliminate gluten or dairy and my tingly face will go away.  People say that fixes everything.  

We arrived at the ER and as we walk in, Jon told the doctor how embarrassed he is for being there just for a headache…but his mom is making him come.  :)  He told the doctor of the headaches and vomiting… of the hearing loss and the numb face.  The doctor decided to do a CT scan.  Then before doing the scan, the doctor had Jon pull on his arm with each hand.  

“Are you left handed?” He asked Jon.  

“Nope.  Right handed.”  

“Hmm.. that’s interesting.  Because your left arm is stronger than your right arm.”
“There’s no way.  My right arm is definitely stronger.” Jon told him.

“OK let’s try again.”  (has Jon pull on his arms again)  “Nope, your right arm is definitely weaker.”  (then has Jon push against him with each leg)  “Your right leg is too.  Your right side is definitely weaker than your left.  I’m going to do an MRI.  No, I’m going to do an MRI with contrast.  Let’s get an IV in you and get this going.”

I snapped this pic of him in our ER room... before he was wheeled away for tests.

From there, it all happened so fast and so slow all at the same time.

They wheeled Jon back to the MRI room.  I walked behind him.  They took him into the room.  I sat in the tiny MRI waiting room.  And waited. And waited.  I posted on Facebook, asking for prayer.  I wasn't sure if I was being dramatic by asking for prayer or if I was being wise.  I'm sure everything would be fine.  I heard the technician ask Jon why he had come in tonight.  Hmm.. That’s interesting.  Maybe he didn’t see anything on the scan, so was curious what brought him in.   Jon was soon being wheeled back to our room in the ER and we sat there, waiting to be discharged.  After a little while, the ER doctor walked into our room, closed the door behind him, and sat down.  “I have good news and I have bad news.  The good news is you don’t have meningitis or a brain aneurysm.  I thought it could have been either of those  things.  The bad news is, I found a massive tumor in your brain.  You are not going home.  You are being admitted to Intensive Care Unit and you are going to be having brain surgery in the next 24 hours.  I am so sorry.”  Shock was our emotion.  Jon asked when he’d be out of the hospital.  He told them he was hosting the National Worship Leader Conference on Friday.  He wanted to know if he’d be out by then.  It was a big weekend for him, he explained.  They were gracious and gently told him he should probably cancel that.  

“Can’t talk right now. Will try to call in the next 20 minutes. Please pray. Jon has a tumor on his brain. Getting admitted to ICU tonight. Probably having brain surgery in next 24 hours.”   This the text I sent to my family at 11:58pm on October 1, 2013.  

I slipped into the hallway and made those middle of the night phone calls you never want to make or receive.  Jon was wheeled up to the ICU where he was told basically to not move.  He wasn’t even allowed to walk to the bathroom.  The doctor pulled me aside. “You must get some sleep tonight.  I know that sounds crazy right now.  But tomorrow you are going to get A LOT of information.  Jon will not be able to process it all.  It will be up to YOU to listen and make decisions.  If you don’t sleep, all you will hear is “Wah..wah..wah..”  You need a clear mind.  Sleep.”  I couldn’t begin to even process what he was saying - How would I possibly process tomorrow’s information?  By now it was 2am.  I tucked Jon into his bed at ICU and drove home to gather some of his belongings.  I pulled into our driveway.  Crap.  The kids.  What will I tell the kids?  Jon’s parents were on our couch.  They said they would spend the night.  I walked up the stairs.  Jon blesses each of our kids every night before bed.  I walked into each child’s room while they slept and said the blessing.  “May the Lord bless you and keep you and make His face to shine upon you.  May He lift up His countenance to you and bring you peace. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”  4 times over. I cried each time.  I cannot do this alone.  What if this is what my life looks like from now on?  Will Jon ever make it home?  I crawled into my bed.  I had to lay down.  And I had to be here for the kids when they woke in the morning.  They had to hear it from me.  What would I tell them?  Why wasn’t daddy home?  What was going to happen to daddy?  I had no answers.  

We're Out of the Waiting Room!!!

For 1 year, 11 months, and 15 days, Jon and I have been in a Waiting Room. Not physically, although we’ve definitely sat in our fair share of those.  We’ve been in the Waiting Room of life.  I have blogged about it. I have talked about it. I have been thankful for it.  I have complained about it. I have been patient and I have been impatient. I have had excited anticipation and I’ve been annoyed.  I have felt the full range of emotions about this room.  This room where we have been invited to wait and trust.  And seek and listen.  We have spent much of our time in the Waiting Room on our knees.  We have sat in silence, longing to hear even a whisper of what God would reveal to us.  And He did.  He continued to say, “Wait patiently.”  Sometimes I received that beautifully.  Other times I rejected it, kicking and screaming.  Do you know how frustrating it is to want to move on in life but instead, you hear, “Wait.”  Let alone, “Wait patiently”!??!  The nerve. ;)  But He continued to speak the same thing.  And when I’d think that he had forgotten about measly little us, sitting in the Waiting Room, He would show up.  He would reveal His presence and remind us of His sovereignty.  He would reassure.  He’s so gracious like that.  

And so we continued to wait.  Sometimes patiently.  Sometimes not-so-patiently.  But incredibly, we have not twiddled our thumbs in the Waiting Room.  No, God was kind enough to give us ‘work’ to do there.  He used us in the Waiting Room.  How gracious He is.  

And then not only did He use us, but he taught us.  He taught us about what any good dad or mom would: our posture.  Like a mom who is constantly reminding her child to sit up straight.  Or a dad who is reminding his child to make eye contact.  Our Father taught us the importance of our hands.  Think about the most precious thing you own.  Now imagine being able to hold it in your hands. Would you want to hold it loosely? No way!  You wouldn’t want to risk it being dropped or broken or stolen.  You would hold it tight and close to you. You would protect it with all that you are.   Well God, in his incredible upside down economy, invited us to do the opposite of what our instincts told us.  Our instincts said, “We’ve lost a lot. We better hold on to whatever we have left!  We better take what we have in our hands and really protect it and try to make the most out of it.”  Everything in our world says that is the smart way to live.  And yet God invited us pry our tight fisted grip wide open.  Not just a little, like a loose grip. But full-on hands opened wide, fingers flat, palms facing up.  “Leave your palms up.  Lay everything you have in your hands.  Everything you love.  Everything you hate.  Every secret hope and every extravagant dream.  Put it in your hands and leave your hands open.  Trust that I will take out of your hands what you don’t need and put into your hands what you do.” His voice was so clear.

And so that’s what we did.  We waited. And we waited.  Palms up. Hands open wide.  And there were times when the Waiting Room door was cracked open.  And we thought we heard our name being called.  Job opportunities, ministry invitations.. they came and we asked, “God, was that our name being called?  Is this what you’re putting in our hands?”  “Wait patiently,” was His response. Yet again and again.   

And then a few weeks ago, we heard it.  Loud and clear.  “Ramsay Family!  Ramsay, Jon Ramsay!”  We were invited out of the Waiting Room!  It was so surreal.  You want to know exactly how I heard this?  (it was different for Jon and I.. but this was my experience)  I was in church worshiping - singing a song I know and love.  And as I was singing, I had my hands directly in front of me - wide open, with palms facing up... Singing a song of surrender and following God.  Singing the same words and in the same posture I had been for almost 2 years.  And as I was lost in the music, with my heart totally surrendered, my hands all of a sudden felt heavy.  I know.  This is crazy talk, right?  I’m just telling you what happened.  My opened hands, palms facing up, felt a physical weight on them.  And right then I heard, “You have waited on me.  You have lived your life open handed.  I have now put something in your hands.  Go.  Your next season starts now.”  

A few days later, Jon was officially offered an incredible job.  We took time to pray over it.  God confirmed this was it.  And so after 16 years as a pastor, and 6 years on staff at Mariners Church, and 2 years after a brain tumor stripped him of the ability to do what he has always vocationally done, Jon resigned and accepted a position with the non-profit “I Like Giving.”  He also is going to seminary at Talbot to get his masters in Spiritual Formation and Soul Care.  Wow.  Crazy.  Amazing.  These are the words that come to mind.   It’s been 8 days since we left the Waiting Room.  8 days of fun and excitement and passion and gratitude.  8 days of reflecting on God’s faithfulness. His sovereignty.  His goodness.  His loving care.  Wow.  Crazy.  Amazing.

If you are in the Waiting Room, know that you are not alone.  God is there with you.  He will use you.  He will teach you.  He will bless you.  He won’t be early in calling you out of there but he also won’t be late.  And if you hear an odd sounding voice that doesn’t quite sound right to you, and you see the door cracked open a little bit, and a name is called that kind of sounds like yours but it’s pronounced wrong and it’s misspelled on your file?  It’s not for you!  Don’t settle.  Don’t jump at the first thing that you think will rescue you from the season of Waiting.  Be patient.  (And when you can’t be patient, know that God’s grace covers it. Trust me.  I know.)  :)  And when the time is right, your name will be called.  And boy will it be worth the wait.  His love for you is personal.  His knowledge of you is intimate.  His gifts for you are good.  And when He calls you out, you won’t just see the door cracked open a tiny bit.  The Waiting Room doors will swing wide open!   And you can walk out of there, confident that He who began a good work in you was faithful to complete it.

Amen and amen. 

Single Moms - Your #1 Job Might be to DITCH Your Boyfriend...

Last Wednesday evening, I had one of the most amazing experiences of my life as well as one of the most horrifying experiences of my life.  And they happened at the exact same time.  I was able to score some tickets to the Taylor Swift concert for my daughter’s 9th birthday and I cannot express to you the sheer joy I felt as I watched my daughter dance carefree, singing along at the top of her lungs, and staring in awe and wonder at the lights, dancers and THE Taylor Swift. It was magical.  And at the exact same time, my world was absolutely rocked as I listened to a young girl sitting behind me get screamed at, cussed at, and berated by her mom’s boyfriend.  There are no words to adequately describe what I heard and saw.  

We were dancing our hearts out in the middle of one of the songs and all of a sudden I hear a man’s voice screaming behind me.  Every other word was a profanity and as I glanced to see what was going on, I found a very petite young girl, probably 11 years old at the most, wide eyed with tears streaming down her cheeks.  In between the man and the young girl, sat the young girl’s mom.  She sat silent, while her boyfriend leaned over her, getting in the young girl’s face with “f-ing this” and “f-ing that,” berating her at the top of his lungs.  When he would lunge toward her with threats of leaving the concert or taking away her cell phone, the mom would push him back a little, telling him to calm down.  He had a bottle of beer in his hand.  There was no calming him down.  Soon the young girl was sobbing, no, whaling.  It was a guttural cry.  After what seemed like an eternity, he finally sat back against his chair.  The young girl sat silently, while her mom turned to her and put her arm around her to make sure she was ok.  The young girl proceeded to ask her mom why she let him scream at her. The young girl then said, “Mom, he doesn’t even respect you or listen to you -  he wouldn’t calm down when you asked him to.” Instantly, the mom removed her arm around her daughter and started berating her own daughter.  “You know what?  YOU’RE the reason he did that!  You provoked him! It is all YOUR fault!”  And on and on she went, hurt and defensive from her young daughter’s statement.  The girl started sobbing again.  The mom rolled her eyes, then turned to her boyfriend, kissed him, and put her arm around him.  The line had been drawn.  Her allegiance was clear.  This young girl had no one.  She had no safe place. I wanted to slip her a note.  “Meet me in the bathroom.  I’ll help you escape!” I wanted to say.  Clearly that would be illegal.  I felt helpless in the moment.  The boyfriend was intoxicated and he was a BIG guy.  I felt fearful for my own physical well being (as well as my daughter’s) at the thought of jumping in.  Perhaps I should have.  The best I could do was keep turning around to let him know I could hear and was upset.  He could care less. 

What happened next was absolutely insane.  Taylor Swift started singing another song and it was one that everyone loved.  The boyfriend jumped to his feet, hollering in excitement and then stood on his chair - waving his hands in the air, dancing. The mom hopped to her feet, singing at the top of her lungs.  They were laughing and happy.  Almost like they had just gotten A HIGH off of what had just happened.  And the young girl?  She hopped up too, following their lead.  She turned off her emotions and jumped back into ‘concert mode.’  She pulled out her phone and started recording the beloved song, singing along.  They walked out of the arena that night as if nothing had happened.  But something had happened.  And I was still sick to my stomach.

I have never, EVER heard someone talk to a child like I did that night. And yet I know it happens every night.  Somewhere.

Single moms: Your #1 job in this world is to love and protect your children.  I know you are lonely.  I can only imagine how difficult it is to raise children alone.  My mother-in-law was a single mom for a season, and I have heard of the weight she carried.  I am so sorry you are in that difficult position.  I know you want a partner to do life with.  Someone to help carry the load.  I also know that at your core, you just want to love and be loved.  That is a very valid desire. I don’t think there’s a person in this world who doesn’t want that for themselves.  But because your #1 job is to love and protect your child, that means you have to date with caution.   No matter how good looking, how much money he has, how good his intentions…. if he doesn’t help you accomplish your #1 job, he  should have no place in your life.  If you think it’s “normal” and/or acceptable for a boyfriend to yell and scream, it’s not.  It’s just not.  At you or your child.  A loving relationship doesn’t consist of rage.  Even if he tells you he’s sorry.  Even if he tries to buy you a gift to show his remorse.  The damage is too great.  To yourself and to your kids.  Love yourself enough to raise the standard.  And if you can’t love yourself enough, love your child enough.  You are teaching your kids what a healthy dating life looks like.  What a healthy relationship looks like.  Stop the cycle of pain.  Show them what strength really looks like.  When your kids are grown and out of the house?  Fine.  Date who you like.  (though it will still ruin your life, at least you’re not ruining other young lives in the process)  But for now, choose your child.  Every time.

To married moms and dads: The above goes for us too. 

To young kids: If your mom (or dad) is dating someone who is unhealthy or unsafe, tell someone.  If your mom or dad is unsafe, tell someone.  If no one in your family is a safe person, talk to a teacher, school counselor, or church leader.  If nothing else, start with a trusted friend.  But whatever you do, TELL.  I want you to know this: It is not ok.  Rage is not ok.  Even if you messed up. Even if you made a mistake.  Even if you “provoked it.”  The response should never be rage and swearing and degradation.  You are of great worth.  You are special.  There is no other “you” in this world.  No matter what you are told or how you are made to feel, you have a purpose in this world.  Don’t let anyone hold you back from fulfilling that purpose.

Look. I know this is a gray area.  It was toward the end of the concert and I honestly thought, “If I go and get a security guard, by the time I get back up here, the concert will be over. And what are they going to do?  He only yelled at her.  He didn’t lay a hand on her or threaten any bodily harm.”  Was it ugly?  Yes.  But was it illegal?  Probably not.  My quick online research in the moment revealed that there are very few steps that can be done to help in a situation like this.  So, to the blog I went.  

Parents - Single or Married - Let’s love our kids toward better behavior.  The shaming and rage and anger is not going to produce the behavior change we want.  I mean, maybe for a time, behavior modification can work with enough fear based parenting. But to reach their heart and have life long behavioral changes, we must start with love.  Love and protection.  From whoever it may be - boyfriend, girlfriend, coach, teacher, parent’s friend… It’s our #1 job.  

And to Staples Center - Maybe, just maybe, one thing that you could do to help in this… stop serving alcohol at events that are mostly attended by children and their parents.  The majority of the audience that night consisted of parents and their kids.  Clearly alcohol isn’t an appropriate ingredient in a “parent/child night out.” Not to mention for the drive home.

And finally to Taylor Swift - We love you and loved your show.  Thank you for a magical evening and  hopefully for lessons learned.

Jon's Latest MRI Results...

Well, we just walked out of our appointment with Jon's neurosurgeon to go over the results of the MRI.  Can I just say how grateful I am for the sovereignty of God?  Jon had fears associated with both possible outcomes of this test and yet we are completely dependent on God and His perfect will for Jon's life.

The MRI results showed NO major growth in Jon's tumor!  There was a possible minor change in the base of the tumor, but not enough to be worried or take action at this point.  The neurosurgeon said, and I quote, "If you are brave, we could drill back into the skull and do another 12 hour surgery and try to remove more of the tumor.  Only if you're feeling brave."  (It was a bit tongue in cheek) ;)  We told him we are NOT feeling that brave.  ;)

He did recommend doing a panel of blood work to help navigate through some of Jon's symptoms.

The bottom line is that Jon's fear of them "finding nothing and having this just be his new normal" may just be reality.  We were able to chat with another brain tumor survivor who said she experiences the same symptoms that Jon does.. and she's about 2 years further along on her journey than Jon.  Hm.  I know typically that should make someone feel better.  "Normal" at least.  But to Jon, it's scary.  It makes him feel trapped.  As we stood in the parking lot after his appointment, Jon admitted he walked into the appointment feeling "open handed" and walked out feeling burdened.  And trust me, we can throw scripture and God's goodness all over this situation.  It's not that.  It's just the human-ness wanting to be well.  Fully well.  No symptoms.  Nothing holding any parts of him back.  A thriving body.  We still fight to navigate the space between considering this our "new normal" or "hoping this is a temporary 'new normal' - until he is fully healed."  But what if this is just the "new normal?"  Like, period.  What if these symptoms of him "not feeling well" are actually the new normal of what he should now be calling, "feeling well" in his new state?  Ugh.

I paused writing this to call Jon and said he was on a walk.  He said, "I feel like I just took a nose dive."  So he's walking.  And praying.  And surrendering.  Once again.

This should be a REALLY HAPPY post.  And it is.  There was no new growth!  (insert happy dance, right?!)  But in an attempt to "live out loud" and walk this road openly and honestly, I share with you the messy stuff too.  The complicated, confusing, battle ground pains.  Thank you for covering us with grace on the journey.

I started this post by worshiping God for His sovereignty.  And that's where I want to wrap it up, too.
It's the beauty of trusting in and having relationship with a perfect God.  We declare who He is.  We give Him our junk.  And then we rest in who He is.   Lather. Rinse. Repeat.  Sometimes several times a day.  We remind ourselves of who He is.  We bring our brokenness, hurts, desires, hopes, EVERYTHING to Him.  And then we exhale into His arms.

Thank you for praying. Thank you for loving.
We are grateful to be journeying alongside such gracious, patient warriors.
XO