Lucky.

I think everyone feels this way at some point:  you are talking to someone and they say something to you that is meant to be "nice" but ends up stinging a little.  I was reading a fellow mommy-blogger's blog and this happens to her regularly; she has a daughter with a severe, chronic medical condition; this rare condition prevents her daughter from ever living at home - her daughter will spend her entire life in a hospital because her daily treatment is so extensive that she is unable to be cared for in her parent's home.  This mother hears people say to expectant moms, "As long as your baby is healthy and happy, that's all that matters."  I've said this to my pregnant friends, many times.  But what if your baby is not healthy...what then?  Now, we all know that any good parent would give their child unconditional, loving care regardless of whether they are healthy (or happy, for that matter), but it still makes you think about the things we often say to people without really thinking.

My thing has to do with the word "lucky."  I often get asked what I do...like, what is my job now that Stella has come into our lives?  Especially since we just moved to a new place we are meeting a lot of new people and this is a pretty typical part of those first-time conversations with neighbors and new friends.  The conversation goes something like this:

New person:  "So, what do you do?  Are you working outside the home?"

Me:  "Well, I used to work in fundraising but now I'm a stay-at-home-mom."

New Person:  "Oh, you're lucky you're able to do that." OR, "You're lucky you can afford to do that."

Me:  "Yea..."

I know most people are not really interested in the full story in these first, just-getting-acquainted, conversations...about how our decision for me to stay at home has led us to a pretty devastating place, financially.  About how we decided to prioritize the needs of our new family, and what we feel God has called us all to as a new family, over our house.  About how that will very likely lead to foreclosure unless a miracle occurs in the next two weeks - and then possibly even greater financial ruin if the money we owe goes to collections.  I think when people hear that I stay at home that they mostly assume we are doing well financially.  Realistically, we absolutely cannot afford to make this decision, when it comes strictly to the money.  The real question is, can we afford to make the alternative choice (me working full-time) when it comes to being obedient to this new calling of being present for Stella's childhood?  I'd rather sacrifice anything in this world to do the job I've been given as a mom, even if that means I might face embarrassment and shame from the earthly consequences of our choice.

I'm learning to own the results of our decision to walk away from the house.  We knew when we made this choice that there was a possibility that things could end in foreclosure and even bankruptcy.  It's harder than I thought it would be because we had such faith that things would end differently.  It looked like the buyers were a sure-thing all along and we figured the sale would progress.  When they decided to walk away so abruptly a few weeks ago, at the very end of this whole long process, we were left in the emotional lurch.  

Here is what I know and what gets me through:

I am blessed to have a husband who is fully supportive of my new role.  

I am blessed to have a husband who feels called and committed to his job - and one who doesn't make his decisions based on money, but on God's will.

I am confident of my new calling and I have never loved any job more...nothing I have done thus far has even come close to the absolute joy I experience as a mom.

I will accept all of the consequences of our choice.  I will "own it" as my mom says.  We are responsible for what is happening.

I will not follow the wisdom of the world if it means doing something contrary to God's will for my life.

God's character remains the same regardless of whatever lousy things may happen in life.

I don't believe in luck.

 

Undone But Held Up!

The past few weeks of life have been exhausting.  Moving, unpacking, organizing, cleaning, taking care of Stella and the dogs while Tim was gone, our house sale proceeding (and then possibly not proceeding), and our recent overnight stay at a hospital in Massachusetts while visiting my mom.  I'm so tired!

Stella and I decided to surprise my mom for Mother's Day by giving her the only gift we can really afford - a visit from us.  We drove to Cape Cod after church on Sunday, planning to spend a few days with my mom.  Her face as she saw us sitting on her front lawn when she got home from work was priceless.  We spent the afternoon together and, when evening came, we put Stella to bed.  As my mom and I were eating dinner I heard Stella crying.  After she didn't settle and I listened more closely I realized she was crying in a way I had never heard before - it sounded like she was struggling to breathe.  Sure enough, when I got to her bedside, I saw that she was bright red, gasping for air, and full of fear.  My mom identified croup and we headed for the hospital.  She rode in my lap all the way to the ER.  Thank GOD we were with my mother because I would have otherwise had no idea what was happening and panicked.

Once at the ER they administered the saline nebulizer, the epinephrine nebulizer, and then a shot of another steroid...and then another epinephrine nebulizer when the croup returned before the final steroid kicked in...they pulled out all the stops as Stella wasn't responding to the basic treatments.  I cannot describe how difficult and terrifying it is to watch your child struggle to breathe.  They suggested monitoring her throughout the night and I slept with one eye open as she rested in her hospital crib and then on my chest when she woke up crying at 4am.  It was a rough night, but I'm grateful for the fact that I was where I was when it all happened.

I'm undone, but held up.  In the midst of all of this life insanity I've been meditating on the fact that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me (Philippians 4:13).  God's character is unchanging even though I can't say the same for anything in life right now.  One minute we think our house is selling and everything is going fine and the next minute the buyers are having second thoughts.  One minute we are enjoying a lovely visit with my mom and the next minute Stella is struggling to take a breath.  Thankfully, the character of God is constant.  He is good, just, loving, filled with peace, mercy, grace.  He is a provider, defender, strong tower, my shelter.  He is strong and wonderful.  When all things in this world seem like the absolute antithesis of my Father in Heaven, I'm so thankful that I can count on His character to remain the same.  I'm grateful, too, for a faith that is deep enough to understand that God remains good even when life is hard.

Some day I will post the sweet video of my mom's reaction to our surprise visit.  In the meantime I hold on to that memory and try to keep that moment, which was worth all the craziness that followed, in the forefront of my mind.

My Crazy Day.

A few crazy things happened today.  Tim is in France celebrating the marriage of his brother, Roy, to our new sister-in-law, Shona.  While he has been away I have been unpacking boxes and prepping our new apartment to make it more like "home."  I think my exhaustion is catching up to me.

The dearest person, Nicky, came over to help me do a few projects around the house and while she was here I left the door open to the basement so that we could easily travel in and out.  I mistakenly thought that our dog, Griffin, was upstairs, but when I went looking for him after a few moments of having the door open I realized he was NOT in the apartment.  He was also not anywhere around our yard.  My heart sank to my shoes as I had momentary flashbacks of losing our other dog, Tank, when he was hit by a car a few years ago.  Thankfully, "hawk-eye" Nicky spotted Griffin several yards away (by yards I mean people's yards, not the three-feet kind of yards) and I took off after him.  He came willingly but was clearly sporting the "What's the big deal, mom?" look on his face.  Yikes and thank God He didn't get too far and he was unharmed by his five, glorious minutes of total freedom.

While Stella napped this morning I was doing some organizational projects, including cleaning out a heavy, brown, storage ottoman.  I had it turned upside-down and was banging it against the railing of our steps when I banged it down on the top joint of my right ring-finger.  It hurt so incredibly that I had to rest my head on the railing; I saw stars and thought I was going to vomit and then my finger went numb.  I'm amazed after rest, ice, and elevation it feels almost normal now (and ibuprofen, my hero).  Later in the day I damaged my left ring finger when I was moving a chair from the basement...guess I was meant to have matching war-wounds from the move?

On a slightly different, more positive, but also crazy note, I met our neighbors who live two doors down in the same row of town-house style apartments.  The guy was pumping his bike tires in the backyard when I approached to introduce myself.  I said, "Hi, my name is Jenny and this is Stella - we're your new neighbors."  He said, "Hi, I'm Tim!"  I said, "Oh, how funny, my husband's name is Tim."  My neighbor, Tim, told me he was going to go get his wife so we could meet, as well, and I heard him yell upstairs inside, "Hey Jen, are you available?  I want you to meet our new neighbors."  Yep, their names are Tim and Jen.  She's Jenna, but still pretty nuts, huh?  They are a young, newly married couple (about our age) with no kids.  Another odd connection, Jenna grew up only 45 minutes away from my Tim in upstate NY.  They moved to Newmarket in October and they truly seem like people I'd be friends with even if they weren't my neighbors.  I'm so grateful for this and excited to get to know them in the coming months of sharing a building!

The end to my crazy day:  BED.

Transition.

As I write this, the love of my life is flying in an airplane somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.  Stella and I are at our apartment amidst boxes and stuff.  We like to do it big in the Carpenter House...we don't just move, we plan international travel for the week afterward.

I have been reflecting on our move and wondering why it is sometimes so difficult to love the people I love the most in the world?  I want to reflect Jesus' gentle and kind spirit, especially in my interactions with my husband and my daughter.  In times of stress I find myself falling into harsh words and frustration.  I want to be more like God in my words and actions.

Maybe a good night's sleep will help me move one step closer toward that goal!

Moving On.

Saturday is moving day for the Carpenter Family.  It feels surreal.  Tim and I have been looking forward to this day for a few years now and it is finally near.  Of course, the circumstances are different than we'd originally hoped for (we are in the process of short-selling our home), but the moving day is here nonetheless.

Living in Nottingham has been a challenge.  Looking back, I think Tim and I bought the house too soon before we had really figured out what made the most sense for our life together and especially for the future of our family.  We are too far from Tim's work (which also happens to be our church), we cannot afford the mortgage on one salary, and we aren't in a town that meets our needs or desires.  We bought the house at the height of the market and within a year the bubble burst.  Some of these things were preventable and predictable, others not so much.  After literally years of trying to sell traditionally, refinance, live in community with friends, seek help from government programs and now to short-sell, it seems our journey with the house is almost over.  An offer is on the table and we should hear soon whether the bank accepts or rejects the offer; we're praying for approval and the ability to move on without issue.

As a Christian I have truly struggled with our decision to short-sell and especially how it ultimately contributes further to the downturn of the real-estate market.  While I have no emotional attachment to my home I do dislike being a part of the overall problem.  I realize there are many people out there, believers and non-believers, who would look at our situation and say that I should have never quit my job to stay at home with Stella if we couldn't "afford" it - that we made a financial commitment before becoming parents and it is our responsibility to stick with it until things turn around.  Having a child changed much about our life direction, and aside from my relationships with Jesus and my husband there is nothing more important than my commitment to raising my child at home.  Any other job (or house, for that matter) will be available to me someday should I choose to go back to work when Stella is older, but I could never get back the years I would have missed had I chosen to put my mortgage ahead of my family.  I have confidence that Stella's childhood will be better spent with me in an apartment than if I was working full-time/she was in day-care full-time just to stay in our house and have nicer, newer things.  [P.S. Having been raised by a single mom who worked full-time I am well aware of the sacrifices that some women HAVE to make in order to provide for their family - and, thank you mom...you have been a wonderful mother to me.]

On Saturday, we say goodbye to the best neighbors anyone could ask for.  We say goodbye to the quiet of the woods, a fenced in backyard, and the pond.  We say a final goodbye to our beloved dog, Tank, who was struck by a car three years ago and died in front of our house, and who is buried on the hill overlooking his favorite spot on earth.  

On Saturday, we say hello to a neighborhood with sidewalks out our front door.  We say hello to walks downtown, to the river, the playground, and to the public library.  We say hello to our new neighbors and to opportunities to care for and minister in a new community.  We say hello to our future and we move on with all the lessons God has taught us in the past four years of living in Nottingham.

I may be leaving my house behind,
but I'm bringing the two most important things with me!

Lasagna Head - need I say more?

Playground FAIL

Stella and I went to the playground today for the first time.  I thought she would LOVE the swings because she literally laughs when I rock her in her rocking chair and she gets such a kick out of being flipped around Tim's shoulders every time he walks into a room.  She likes to be tossed up in the air and she loves to spin...so what's not to like about swings, right?  WRONG!  I had my camera with me and I honestly thought about taking a picture, but I couldn't subject her to the agony of the experience for a moment longer so a description and reenactment photo will have to suffice.

We walked up the hill to the playground and an expression of joy crossed her face.  She was squealing with delight at the other children and continued to do so until I put her in the baby swing.  Her legs went stiff as her bottom dropped into the seat.  She sat as straight as a pencil and wouldn't let me bend her legs or scooch her bum further into the swing.  I gave her a tiny push...and I mean tiny...and it looked like she stopped breathing for about ten seconds.  Her face was red and contorted in a really weird way, kind of like this:

please excuse the bad hair day...it looks like a helmet.

Then the noises started.  It was kind of a gutteral sound that just repeated over and over.  I let her swing back and forth a few times and tried to help her through her issues, but it clearly was a playground fail.  She reacted the same way when I tried swinging with her on my lap in the big-kid swing.  She also had a similar reaction to the rocking horse toy and the slide at the playground.  Oh well!  I guess we'll have to give it another go some other day!