Archives for 2016

I’m sitting here, on the hard floor of our mudroom, wrapping her in warm damp cloths and carefully administering enough warm water to prevent the egg’s membrane from drying out with a medicine dropper. I’m watching the baby chick struggle to hatch from the protective shell that has kept her safe and warm. Her beak is free and she is chirping. Yet, her movement has slowed and I’m worried she won’t break free from that outer shell.

Earlier this week, momma hen had another baby and left the roost where this egg remained to care for and protect the new chick. As Dave gathered the eggs from the coop last night, he heard the soft sound of chirping coming from inside this egg. {We may or may not have panicked a little bit. We were not expecting to find any other fertilized eggs in the coop}! The egg had been left alone and didn’t stand a chance on it’s own. We quickly brought it inside to the mudroom and set up a pseudo incubator with a rubbermaid tote, pine shavings and a heat lamp.

Still, we felt helpless. We didn’t know if the chick could survive without it’s momma. We went to bed not knowing what we would find in the morning.

To our surprise, we woke to chirping! The chick had broken free of the shell with it’s itty bitty beak and was breathing on it’s own. I have never seen anything like it! This little chick was so teeny and so fragile. We all stood around waiting for it to push through the entire shell and emerge into the world.

We waited.

And waited.

And, waited.

I’m still waiting. The boys are in school and Dave is at work. Meanwhile, I’m scouring the internet (thank you, Facebook friends for all of the helpful tips) trying to discern when to help and how to do so. For now, I’m keeping a wet, warm cloth around the egg’s membrane (I couldn’t help it, I had to intervene, and carefully picked away the outer shell… I’m a chicken surgeon now) to help keep moisture in and make it soft enough for the chick to push through.

As I fight against my urge to help it out somehow and wait for the baby chick to push through, I also wait for the end of the school day. I wait to hear how the day went for one of my boys. This is only the third week of school and already I have watched as a dark cloud has shadowed over his exuberant spirit. This has been a very tough year so far for my boy. Without going into details, I will say that he is not in a place right now where he can thrive. The goodness in him is not being called forth and he is drowning under that pressure.

Oh, my momma heart hurts so deeply for my boy. I ache to step in and take away this pain. I don’t want to watch him struggle. Just as I innately want to step in and help this baby chick out of her shell so she no longer has to go through the process of struggling to break free, I want so desperately to shield my boy from this hardship. I am praying constantly for him and for his teacher and for the administrators at his school. I’m praying for discernment and wisdom on how to be an advocate for my boy while also speaking truth and life into him. I’m praying for wisdom on how to use this experience as an opportunity for good. I’m also praying for very specific direction on how to proceed {he is in first grade and the thought of an entire year of tears and tummy aches and spirit-crushing criticism is not okay with me}. I so wish I could find an article for my boy similar to the one that gave me step-by-step instructions on how to help this baby chick hatch. Unfortunately, the manual for this one doesn’t exist.

This job of shepherding little hearts in a broken world is intense. I’m ever grateful for the One who walks with us through the hard seasons and promises to carry us through. I know I can trust Him with the hearts of my children, for He loves them even more than I can comprehend. I will continue to pray and fight for what is best for my boy. I will also step back and allow him this opportunity to push through something hard. I’ll trust that God is working in and through this situation and His plans for my boy are always, always for good.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” Matthew 6:25-26 (NIV) 

This girl.

She walked right in to her very first real classroom with her head held high and smiled for the camera (over and over and over again…I can’t help myself) like a champ.

Because I’m her mom and I know how to read her nonverbal cues, I couldn’t miss the faintest hint of anxiety in her eyes. I picked up on the way she sat motionless in her chair surveying the room with her eyes, keeping her head perfectly still. While the other mommas were hugging their new pre-schoolers and wiping crocodile tears away from cheeks, I was rubbing Sylvie’s back and watching her fingers twirl around the fabric of her shirt – a clear signal of her fear.

Despite the subtlety of these outward signs of her anxiety, my palms sweated as I left the classroom. I wanted desperately to shout the absolute most inappropriate things to everyone within earshot.

YOU GUYS!

LOOK AT HER SITTING THERE AT THE TABLE IN FRONT OF HER LITTLE NAME TAG! DID YOU SEE HER HANG HER BACKPACK? OH MY WORD!

SERIOUSLY! SHE LIVED ON THE DIRT FLOOR OF AN ORPHANAGE! SHE OFTEN DIDN’T EAT FOR DAYS!! EVERYONE LEFT HER. EVERYONE! WHY SHOULD SHE TRUST THAT THIS PLACE IS SAFE OR THAT I’LL BE BACK THIS AFTERNOON LIKE I SAID??!! Your kid is cute and all, BUT LOOK AT HER!!!!!! SHE IS THE MOST BRAVE FOUR YEAR OLD EVER, EVER. I’M SO DARN PROUD OF HER I CAN’T EVEN STAND IT!

I’m the most embarrassing, I know. But y’all, I wanted to explain the research regarding brain development and the effects of trauma. {Dave and I met privately with her teacher – she is very well aware of trauma and attachment and the effects on brain development. I am beyond thankful for her}.  I wanted to pass out photos of my girl as an infant. I wanted everyone to see how far she has come. Yes, she is physically taller and stronger but oh my word, she is so much stronger than any visible muscle. This girl is an overcomer and a fighter and she is so full of joy and hope, I can hardly believe it. Despite the crappy things that have happened in her life, she chooses joy instead of bitterness or resentment.

I didn’t embarrass her or myself by yelling these things or showing old photos or videos but man, I wanted to. The thing is, everyone just sees this adorable, confident little girl smiling and hanging her new Paw Patrol backpack on the hook under her name. They have no idea how freaking brave she is. They don’t know the tension she wrestles through every single day. They don’t know how much that backpack and lunchbox represent. They represent a beloved daughter who has fought fiery arrows straight from the pit of hell and come out victorious. The enemy prowled at the door of her heart, ready to pounce at any moment. SO many of you reading these words prayed and fought this fight with us in the heavenlies. We went to battle for this girl. Absolutely bloody and bruised and broken at times. But we fought. And, she fought. It has been the messiest, most fractured and broken fight. But we have the most powerful and good God on our side. He never left us alone in the battle. This girl is tangible, real-life proof of a Abba Father who loves and restores and redeems everything for good. Everything. 

The enemy messed with the wrong girl. She is a daughter of the King of Kings and she is clothed in dignity and strength. The light of His endearing love shines so brightly through this one.

Go conquer PreK, my girl. The rest will come later. For now, you have a year of growing and learning more about this good, good Father of yours. Soak it up and thrive, my love.