tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69226985313536363352024-03-13T23:07:17.896-07:00the lewis noteMy life hasn't gone as expected -- maybe you can relate. I thought being a mom would happen easily and come naturally. It hasn't. I thought I'd never lose a child. I've lost 4. But in the midst of it all, I'm finding healing, comfort and meaning in Jesus. And that is the best life of all.Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.comBlogger286125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-45853429740819064352015-10-06T16:33:00.002-07:002016-02-23T17:25:06.973-08:00The Lewis Note has moved to a new space! Please come by and say HI!HI friends!<br />
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It has been so long since I have written -- and you might be wondering, "Hey! Where is Rachel?"<br />
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TO answer your question . . . I launched a NEW website that is more professional and more user friendly for YOU!<br />
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I would love to have you come over, grab a cup of coffee and get cozy. You can visit me at:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://thelewisnote.com/">www.thelewisnote.com</a></span><br />
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Excited to see you again, friends, and can't wait to catch up!<br />
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RachelRachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-797324330205265332015-09-06T19:22:00.002-07:002015-09-09T22:56:14.090-07:00The spaces in betweenYesterday <a href="http://www.npr.org/sections/parallels/2015/09/03/437132793/photo-of-dead-3-year-old-syrian-refugee-breaks-hearts-around-the-world" target="_blank">I saw a photo.</a><br>
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If you know the story behind the photo, you know exactly how awful it is.</div>
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It's a little 3-year-old boy, curled up on his belly. On the sand. With the water lapping at his face.</div>
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Dead.</div>
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The photo makes him look as though he is merely asleep.... Not that he had drowned and had literally washed up on shore, with his (also dead) 5-year-old brother.</div>
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I have heard, "Syria this ... refugee that ... worst humanitarian crisis since WWII ..." but none of it clicked for me. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Not until I saw that sweet boy, who reminded me of Z.</span> </div>
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Then everything changed. My heart ripped, my body wracked with silent sobs, and I begged God to let it end.</div>
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Let the senseless death, the hopelessness, the loss of precious life, please God, just bring it to an end.</div>
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And I thought about the mother of these boys, who also drowned when their boat capsized.</div>
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<b><i>What kind of fear does it take to risk her children's lives in order to save them?</i></b></div>
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In the middle of the summer, we took a boat ride out on the Puget Sound. We were on a speed boat, and I was honestly afraid most of the way. Both kids had life jackets, but I kept I thinking of what could happen if the boat flipped, or my kids fell in.</div>
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My fears were really unfounded, as the risk of an accident happening was ridiculously low.</div>
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But then there's the refugee mom. Who had the odds completely stacked against her.</div>
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<b><i>How afraid must she have been to put both of her children on an overcrowded raft, filled past the point of safety? To cross a sea without life jackets on her kids. To know that a giant wave or a shark or a malfunction of the raft could be the death of them. To know how often people have lost their lives making a trek across the sea like they did.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>And yet she stepped onboard anyway.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>What must have been running through her head when the raft sank, and her kids sank with it?</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Did she have more kids than arms to reach them? What could it have been to experience the terror of drowning while knowing your children were drowning in the dark water somewhere next to you, but out of your reach?</i></b></div>
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<b><i>And in that moment, was the risk still worth it? Was death still a better option than the terror of living under ISIS control?</i></b></div>
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As I slowly woke this morning, little Alyn was first on my heart. I wished someone could have held him. I wished he didn't have to die alone. I wished he hadn't died at all.</div>
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And the veins of entitlement, which has so subtly weaved itself into my character, became so apparent to me. </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Entitlement feeds my discontentment with ideas like, "my house should be bigger, cuter, more in-style. I should be cuter, and smarter and more in-style. My kids should be better behaved, and not so draining, and so needy." All while others would be thankful for a safe home with doors that lock, instead of living in a car, or a tent. They would be thankful for any children, no matter how demanding. My blood has run thick with entitlement, and it has poisoned my soul.</span></div>
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<div>As I drove to church yesterday, the shame felt heavy and unavoidable. I asked God<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> to forgive me for the years I have allowed discontentment to drain my gratitude and joy.</span></div>
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<b><i>And still, even with the Syrian refugee family fresh on my mind, even with gratitude pouring from every part of me, I still struggled today with the hard of being a mom to three kids.</i></b></div>
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<b>My kids were not screaming in terror of drowning, but they were screaming. About poop. Loudly. In the grocery store. For a long time.</b></div>
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<b>And I thought to myself . . . </b><em>This is hard.</em></div>
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<b>I now go to church by myself. Ryan helps sometimes, but mostly, I do the church thing with 3 kids alone. And in the parking lot, my kids were running ahead of me, in spite of my admonition for them to stay close, and a blue van drives a little too quickly, a little too close for my comfort. And I scream "STOP!!! STOP!!! I reach out, but I have more kids than hands. </b><b>(Z was safely in one arm, and my bags and phone in the other.) </b><br>
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<b>As soon as my kids stopped and the van passed, we were out of danger. But the Syrian mom, when would she ever felt like they were out of danger if they had survived? Would she have ever been able to let her guard down? </b></div><div><b><br></b></div>
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<b>No, my fear was very much fleeting, unlike her gut level fear of staying in the same place, or chancing death in a risky move accross the ocean.</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><b>And still, I thought to myself,</b><i> "This is hard."</i></div>
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<b><br></b><b>I wasn't trying to contain my kids on a small raft, fleeing for our lives. Instead, I was trying to contain them in a shopping cart for an hour, trying my best to minimize bickering, squashed loaves of bread, and screaming about poo.</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><b>And in spite of our admittedly low discomfort in the grocery store ... And in spite of the fact that I was surrounded by food I could have easily bought and eaten ... "Still" ... I thought ... <i>"This is hard."</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div><b><i>And what do I do with these spaces in between what is hard for others and what is hard for me? How do I live each moment filled with gratitude, breathing in the beauty of the present, and offering myself grace in the moments that are not so beautiful. (My preschooler screaming about poop all the way from the checkout stands to the restroom for instance --- not a glorious moment.)</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div><b><i>And yet no matter how hard my day is, there is someone else having a harder day and someone else having an easier day.</i></b></div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div><b><i>These are the spaces in between.</i></b></div><div><br></div><div>I hope to live in those spaces with grace, compassion, and respect for the hard of others AND the hard I know. While still creating space for gratitude.</div><div><br></div><div>And maybe the person in those spaces I need to show the most grace to is me. Because I know there will be days I will fail, days I have failed. Days I have compared the hards of others, maybe to make myself feel better. And days I have ignored the hard of others, because I was too content keeping my own little world safe and happy.</div><div><br></div><div>We all live in the spaces in between. I guess the question is, how can we do it well?</div><div><b><i><br></i></b></div><div><br></div>
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Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-70280263147285146232015-09-05T23:31:00.002-07:002015-09-05T23:31:47.995-07:00my 7 secrets to doing it all<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There are two things I am told by at least one person every week. The first is "It takes a special kind of person to do foster care." I'll be writing my thoughts on that here soon, but today, I'm going to share about #2:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I don't know how you do it." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This could be in relation to foster care, surviving multiple pregnancy losses, writing a blog, working on a book, joining a play, or running a business. Or doing all of it. Plus a house to keep up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So today, I want to share with you how I do it. </span><br />
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Here are my 7 secrets to doing it all.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><em>With a lot of prayer and leaning on God.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today, my schedule is so packed, I had to increment my time in 15-minute blocks to ensure I get it all of one and stay on track. My day started at 6:30, and will probably not "end" till 10 or 10:30. On days that are super busy, I have to break it down.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As we got home from school drop off for Maddy, Leyla, and a trip to the grocery store, I paused in the car and prayed out loud.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Thanks God for our home, our food, our health, our opportunities. Help me to keep it together today. Help me to move forward in business, in my family, and take care of everyone's needs with love and patience."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I also start <strike>every</strike> most mornings with a short prayer, (let's be real here), asking for God's help to accomplish what I need, with the right attitude. I find myself praying often on short bursts throughout the day, realizing I depend on God for everything. And as long as my babies will let me, I read for a few minutes from the Bible in the morning to start my day off right.</span></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">With lots of grace.</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This morning, I needed to fix breakfast for 3 kids, eat, take a shower, get 2 kids ready for school, pack a lunch, and be out of the house by 8 am.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We got out at 8:10.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And Leyla threw a fit about getting shoes on, so I walked the rest of the kids to the car, and told her to join us when she was done.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Should have been a good idea, except that now that we were late, I was in a rush. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At Leyla's school, I realized my mistake. First, I didn't grab her book bag which was right by the door. Second, I didn't lock the door, <span style="font-size: large;">or for that matter, <em>close it at all.</em></span> (Gasp!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And so after drop-off, I rushed home to close and lock the door that was clearly wide-open for all the world to see (and break in and enter.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And that's where grace enters. See, I make lots of mistakes. A lot. I forget to close doors, lose keys, forget lunches and coats and backpacks, keep my kids up too late, and don't always get them home for nap time.</span><br />
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Just recently, I took Maddy to school, one minute late. (Literally. One minute). My hair was dripping because I tried to sneak a shower in the few free minutes I had. (That was not-so-awesome time management.) My mascara from yesterday was still pooled under my lids. I carried both Z and Leyla (shoeless, of course) as I tried to rush Maddy to out of the car. <br />
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All while the principal was watching, and hollering at me to "try my best to get my kids to school on time." Granted, it WAS the third day of school and a little early in the year to already be late. But still. After <em>encouraging </em>me to be on time, he acquiesced: "Well, I'm sure it's hard to get three out of the house. I never had to raise three. Actually, I probably couldn't do it. But still, try to be on time."</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And I've learned to be Ok with that. Sure, I won't win any parent-of-the-year award, especially not from any teachers (and certainly not from the principal) ... And there is almost nothing in my home Pinterest-worthy .... But doing OK has become good enough for me. At least for most things.</span></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">Sometimes, I let things go.</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Before Ryan became an avid helper in the home, I had to learn that some t</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">hings had to be let go. In order to write, I'd ignore the laundry. In order to get dinner on, sometimes it would be the exact same easy meal as last week: baked chicken, peas and a side-salad. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>I find that the days I'm most productive, it's because I have a priority list of up to 6 items that need to be done each day. Bonus points if I make it the night before. If I can't get to all 6, the items get bumped to the top of the next day's list.<br />
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I don't always do my list, but I'm trying to make it a new habit. And the things that don't make it to the list -- well, I just serenade those with the Frozen theme song.<br />
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My perfectionist self is coming to terms with the idea of "good enough."</div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">With lots of support.</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My husband is pretty amazing. He has begun helping with laundry, does dishes every night, puts all the kids to bed at least twice a week, and does chores on the weekend. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My parents and in-laws are close by. And while we don't use their support every week, it's nice to know we have it when we need some last-minute babysitting, or a night 1-, 2-, or 3- kids free.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In the past, I have hired a mommy-helper, giving me 3 full hours each week of focused time.</span><br />
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In short -- I don't do it alone. I'm not parenting alone, I'm not cleaning alone (although I have in the past), and my kids have adjusted to doing things without me.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">Downtime is double time.</span></em></div>
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And by downtime, I don't mean that hour I get to myself everyday. (Ha.) I mean, the time I use the bathroom. (Sorry, it's true. I'm human). I mean the time waiting in line. I mean the time I'm supervising Z's playgroup. It means the time I'm relaxing from my day, in bed, and I'm on my phone. The time when I'm snuggling Z and feeding him a bottle before nap time. (In fact, that's when I wrote the bulk of this post.)<br />
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I mean, those times.<br />
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Instead of just scrolling through Facebook (a habit I'm working very hard to break), I'm reading a book. In fact, many of my books are read by utilizing the few minutes I'm in the bathroom to myself, as well as when I sit down to eat lunch. I read. I carry a book with me when I can. <br />
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Also, another habit I'm working on is writing at night before I go to bed. I'm working on my first chapter of my book, so instead of reading about other people's lives at night, I'm writing down my own. <br />
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When I have downtime, I try to double it up as productive time. Yet still make it relaxing.<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">I'm intentional.</span></em></div>
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For so long, I waited. I waited to start something until it was perfect timing. I waited for Ryan to initiate a family day. I waited for my to-do list to whither away before spending quality time with my kids. <br />
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And in the end -- I just felt like life, and what I really wanted, was always on snooze.<br />
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It's taken me a while, but I've (finally) realized that life with a plan far outweighs life without one.<br />
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And so on the two weekends a month I set aside for family time -- we DO something together. We usually go on a hike. Or for a drive. Or a bike ride. Instead of wasting our day puttering around the house, we make it count. And some of our best memories come from those family days.<br />
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Getting connected in my church has become a priority for me. So instead of waiting for connection to just fall in my lap, I'm plugging in. I'm singing once a month at church, and helping in the Kindergarten room once a month. Maddy and I also just started the play together. (Which sounds overwhelming, but it's 6 hours a week, which can double as Maddy/Mommy time. If Maddy were in a sport, I'd probably be spending that time rushing her to games, etc. So this way, we're together AND it's an extracurricular activity. And I can read or write or work on the days Maddy doesn't need to be there, and I'm not on stage.) <br />
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I use nap time for work time. And if I don't get it done during naptime, then I'll let my kids watch a show while I finish up.<br />
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We have dinner together most every night, and that's our time to connect. Breakfast, however, is served alongside cartoons while I do yoga in the office and take a quick shower. If I don't get it done in the morning, chances are it will never happen!<br />
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While I drive for errands, or to pick up kids, I listen to trainings for personal development, leadership and business education. It has the added benefit of my kids hearing these trainings. Recently, Maddy told me, "I felt the fear mom. And I did it anyway." Since I've never said that to her, I know where she got that from. My university on wheels.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><em>I don't do it for me.</em></span></div>
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Well, at least, not ALL for me.<br />
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The other day, Leyla was having a very rough day. This happens a lot. I think God must have given me this idea, because honestly, I was ready to just grit down and win the control war. Except I think He showed me that right then, she needed love and attention, not further discipline. So I stopped what I was doing, and just played. Like roll all over the floor, play and tickle, and throw her in the air, and try not to get smothered by a toddler and preschooler relishing in their mom on the floor with them. <br />
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We have dance parties in the kitchen, and sing-alongs in the car, and rummy matches late at night. I know I focus on getting things done, but at the same time, my kids and my hubby are my top priority. At times that means putting the phone or book down, and just snuggling. Or playing that extra game of cards. Or missing the conference call I know will be recorded because my kids are having a meltdown. <br />
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I mean, really, my family is so important to me. I might have to schedule it in . . . but I take time to NOT be busy in order to make them know I love them and get to know them. <br />
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I run my business because I want to give my family choices. I stay at home because I want to be present in their lives. I fix (mostly) homemade meals because I want them to know that healthy food matters. I foster Z because that's what a person does when someone else needs them. And Z needed us. (And now, of course, I love him. That took all of like, what? One day?) <br />
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I am so far from perfect, so please, no pedestals here. I'm messy at times, today I'm still in my pajamas from this morning, and there are days where I feel like the worst parent ever. <br />
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But I do all these things in hopes of being a good steward of what I have been given, and in hopes of making a difference in other people's lives. Starting with my own family's.<br />
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<em>How do you do what you do? I'm not the only busy mama here -- so please share your tips and tricks for getting it done!</em><br />
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Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-49568468368940576772015-08-25T22:31:00.000-07:002015-08-25T22:55:51.043-07:00z z z z z z z<div>
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First, this post is all about Z. If you hadn't guessed.<br />
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Second, this post is all about hitting the "snooze" button. Because basically, that's exactly what has happened with Z's case, as I found out at today's social worker visit.<br />
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For those of you who follow me on Facebook, you probably saw that my mom recently had to say good-bye to Z . . . as she wasn't sure she would get to see him again before he had to return home. This was emotional and hard for all of us -- except Z. He's still pretty clueless, cute little baby.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmggnWCWUjSE37bFuCvoMkV_31iM7yqH4CrYl6JN1uvZPkfp6NmqunSGZaSs0F7vu-vcWqUSgU_b_aZdUfhzvZI4jHG3hw6UUd_KVFabTe9DU9Vpc91FAC5pFy1srpsfewBjpCmpIwGDUP/s640/blogger-image--666111852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmggnWCWUjSE37bFuCvoMkV_31iM7yqH4CrYl6JN1uvZPkfp6NmqunSGZaSs0F7vu-vcWqUSgU_b_aZdUfhzvZI4jHG3hw6UUd_KVFabTe9DU9Vpc91FAC5pFy1srpsfewBjpCmpIwGDUP/s640/blogger-image--666111852.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom and Z saying good-bye</td></tr>
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Well, today, I was happy to tell my mom there's a chance she might get to see him again.<br />
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Z's case has sort of been put on a pause.<br />
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Obviously, the clock is still moving. But instead of having a big "green" light toward him returning home at the end of summer, early fall . . . it now looks like a "yellow" light. Proceed with caution. It looks like he'll be with us through the fall, and maybe longer. (Nothing is final until it's final -- so even this is just a guesstimate. As my friend Bethany says, foster care teaches you to take it one day at a time.)<br />
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While I'm not a fan of delaying permanency, as we are QUITE attached and keep getting more attached as the days go on . . . I do agree with caution and being realistic. If he is going to return home, I want it to be stable and safe. And I'd rather us all go forward with eyes open, than to get a call after he returns home that someone got hurt or worse.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9wt_L6azXr-Y5uE63csdc6hQvbqKUvC6bB5kfpYqwR60iyCXMW-oPiJdj5i0s92VXpEPgTtb97bGYEzB6AlQMuNplnq43Oq7wp0DkSkxV3XQOBxvWbWgZsg5yWVv8PIcUU34uoCW6zMF/s640/blogger-image-893607335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9wt_L6azXr-Y5uE63csdc6hQvbqKUvC6bB5kfpYqwR60iyCXMW-oPiJdj5i0s92VXpEPgTtb97bGYEzB6AlQMuNplnq43Oq7wp0DkSkxV3XQOBxvWbWgZsg5yWVv8PIcUU34uoCW6zMF/s640/blogger-image-893607335.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maddy loving on her brother</td></tr>
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After last week, I was dreading seeing our social workers. I assumed that I would actually be getting a date today. Or at least a certain month that he would return home. And I also was embarrassed about the fall at the allergist's office and the possible CPS investigation.<br />
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Apparently, our social worker and guardian ad litem didn't even know that CPS was considering investigating me. They knew about the ER visit, and that I had to self-report -- but they hadn't heard that CPS had called me back and was considering a full investigation.<br />
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They totally didn't understand why I told them it all stressed me out . . . until I explained that a similar situation had happened to a friend, and her baby did get taken away. (Though I want you to know that it was a ridiculous call, and they were found clear of any wrongdoing.) Our social worker was totally annoyed that CPS considered investigating, and said that he had just lost some respect for his own department. He said he has a full year of health & safety reports on me that he would have been happy to submit proving that I'm a capable and safe parent. He also told me he was prone to accidents as a child, and knows that "this stuff happens."<br />
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It was honestly so reassuring.<br />
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We have court next week for Z's case. It's not a permanency hearing, but just a review. As usual, I'll have to fill out a court report. Z has a lot of medical testing to do in the next few months, so I know there is a lot to update the court on.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVQqU_ZWs1xRtdnMTJY9ge_GujOQ0hw5MPwmWAqjGOsZCs-IWUJCdGvlTAWHhqL0mmKcfbFR3HgRuIv_xM9u5x4IoVUDbLX8SdUXbz40GsVpiIOomcgCQiJtSjKTeAxvU5JGMk3jeBvpm/s640/blogger-image-1097671143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVQqU_ZWs1xRtdnMTJY9ge_GujOQ0hw5MPwmWAqjGOsZCs-IWUJCdGvlTAWHhqL0mmKcfbFR3HgRuIv_xM9u5x4IoVUDbLX8SdUXbz40GsVpiIOomcgCQiJtSjKTeAxvU5JGMk3jeBvpm/s640/blogger-image-1097671143.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goofy boy wants to do the splits</td></tr>
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Between his appointments, Maddy's appointments and tummy issues, and both girls starting school this fall -- there certainly is a lot going on around here.<br />
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As almost every person in the grocery store comments as I pass by with my entourage, "it looks like I have my hands full."<br />
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And I do. But in spite of all the challenges of having kids in the way I have them -- I'm really grateful to have them each here with me. They are a handful of blessing.<br />
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<br />Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-52802907285672835642015-08-20T22:21:00.001-07:002015-08-21T16:33:29.198-07:00The day I was reported to CPS<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKX-RoDHXwW_6mRu-CYDVzJ32fTJyUu-7I25sA3OjE4sK96cyT1bDguvSvicr4k8zn72ekFNSQVd4xKJ-cyaV1FjCQbMJW63LFDZf47Q7nHX77SqkK661wBjENOM0GuJSHWXsKc48HQGoj/s640/blogger-image--1558560239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKX-RoDHXwW_6mRu-CYDVzJ32fTJyUu-7I25sA3OjE4sK96cyT1bDguvSvicr4k8zn72ekFNSQVd4xKJ-cyaV1FjCQbMJW63LFDZf47Q7nHX77SqkK661wBjENOM0GuJSHWXsKc48HQGoj/s640/blogger-image--1558560239.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>Tonight I want to write about the hard things in foster care. And not the big hard things. The not-so-big ones. Or maybe, the not-so-big, but could turn really-really-big, but you don't know for sure so it's crazy stressful.<div><br></div><div>Yeah, that one.</div><div><br></div><div>Z fell Wednesday afternoon at the allergists' office. </div><div><br></div><div>He doesn't like doctor's appointments, and we seem to have a lot of them. He is tired of being held or strapped in a stroller or car seat. He wants to climb and jump and roll and grab everything and get into every drawer and cupboard.</div><div><br></div><div>Books, toys? Totally not interested.</div><div><br></div><div>So yesterday, by the time our doctor was ready to start the exam and questions, Z was already over it. He was squirming to try to get out of my arms. I didn't want him going all over the floor, trying to open cupboards and climb up the table, so I sat him in the chair, with me right behind him, hands inches away in case he tried to fall.</div><div><br></div><div>Well, as you know, trying to answer a lot of questions from the doctor and keeping your 1-year-old calm and quiet can be a challenge. You don't really feel present with either person. Just half there for both of them. In the end, the doctor asked a question, I looked up to answer, and Z slipped through my outstretched hands onto the floor.</div><div><br></div><div>Well, mostly onto the floor. I caught his legs before his body hit the ground. But his head did hit.</div><div><br></div><div>Now most of you moms will say, this stuff happens. And you are right. It does.</div><div><br></div><div>But when you are a foster parent, this stuff is huge. It's the not-so-big-of-a-deal to you that could potentially be a mega-huge-deal to foster parents.</div><div><br></div><div>Z acted ok the rest of the visit. I knew I would have to fill out an incident report, but I didn't expect what happened later</div><div><br></div><div>The next day, while bathing Z, I saw this on his ear.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopZQHRCe8E3QXxmLOkpX9mjNAjfwSnmUvSjlupEAyGDk2ttMRyk-fms5nsjZ8XEdjZ19tI6D2DoV1baN7rHQArSF61STVl6j5x_fQPnku3QjDr_gT2eyfJEXVEGnJOaQ-9toSvrsC1ghC/s640/blogger-image-887586440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopZQHRCe8E3QXxmLOkpX9mjNAjfwSnmUvSjlupEAyGDk2ttMRyk-fms5nsjZ8XEdjZ19tI6D2DoV1baN7rHQArSF61STVl6j5x_fQPnku3QjDr_gT2eyfJEXVEGnJOaQ-9toSvrsC1ghC/s640/blogger-image-887586440.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>At first, I thought it had happened at his visit. But since there were no notes on the report saying there was an accident, I decided that it probably happened when he hit his head the day before.</div><div><br></div><div>I called our caseworker, filled out the form, and was instructed to go to the ER if we found a bump.</div><div><br></div><div>You guessed it ... We found a bump, and off to the ER we went.</div><div><br></div><div>The Dr. was not concerned at all by his bump and bruise. Thankfully she did not call CPS to report is.</div><div><br></div><div>But we still got reported.</div><div><br></div><div>By me. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div> I had to according to Washington State law. </div><div><br></div><div>So here I am, already feeling like a crappy parent, beating myself up in guilt (like most moms do), and now I need to tell CPS of all people that yes, I screwed up this parenting gig and an accident happened. And it was my fault.</div><div><br></div><div>Again, you might be thinking, accidents happen. Surely they know this, and it's not a big deal right?</div><div><br></div><div>Except it can be a very big deal. A friend of ours had her own foster son taken away, without any chance of a good-bye, had her own children pulled from school, and questioned, and had their licensed pulled for a time while the investigation was complete for -- of all things -- a fall at the doctor's office.</div><div><br></div><div>This was the not the first report CPS has gotten on us.</div><div><br></div><div>If you all remember, Leyla had to go the ER three times for a fall, and once had to have a CT scan done. CPS was reported each of those times. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>And each time, we were told it was a formality and never heard anything about it again.</div><div><br></div><div>But today was different.</div><div><br></div><div>Today I got a call from CPS. They were going to get more info on this accident, call the doctor's who were involved (the allergist and the ER doctor) and also needed me to send his discharge paperwork from the hospital.</div><div><br></div><div>They would either just keep the referral on our license, or they would do a complete investigation.</div><div><br></div><div>We would know by the end of today.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Well, you can probably imagine my ball of nerves today.</div><div><br></div><div>There was a possibility that they could take Z from our home today. There was a possibility that I would not get the good-bye I planned for, that my family and friends would not get to say good-bye that they hoped for. </div><div><br></div><div>They could take my other two children in for questioning. They could get very personal, very quickly, and we wouldn't be able to do anything about it.</div><div><br></div><div>All because of that one stupid mistake I made.</div><div><br></div><div>You can be an awesome parent 99% of the time, but man, that 1% is killer. That one time you don't pay enough attention. That one time you are distracted. That one time your in-control parenting falls apart. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>It just takes once.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>And so today I rushed around, filling out more paperwork, trying to get the image of CPS taking Z away out of my head. Trying to keep tears at bay, and not let me stress affect my other two kids.</div><div><br></div><div>And then finally we got the call.</div><div><br></div><div>They will NOT be investigating. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>The report will be on our license, my mistake forever on record. But at least right now, we have Z for another day, and things will move along as planned.</div><div><br></div><div>Some of you guys tell me you couldn't do foster care. And as much as I advocate for you to be foster parents, on the one hand, I totally get it.</div><div><br></div><div>I hate being front and center when it comes to CPS. </div><div><br></div><div>I have nothing to hide. But you know, no one wants to go through that. No one.</div><div><br></div><div>As you guys continue to pray for us, pray that we can stay clear of accidents throughout the rest of Z's stay.</div><div><br></div><div>Just this morning, I prayed that God would help me walk by faith and not fear.</div><div><br></div><div>And then CPS called. And I was afraid.</div><div><br></div><div>I just might have already failed my prayer today. But as we continue down this road, I hope and pray God can continue to help me trust in him when the scary stuff comes.</div><div><br></div><div>That I can trust he's already in control. Even as we learn to let go along the way.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-40413825753821074742015-08-15T23:49:00.001-07:002015-08-16T07:51:20.158-07:00Big feelings<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2aoMxYcyWwLx3_1Lrt2cxj-hZQnAN4H-ADb5HlbQnzOWSLvlE9p5pmAQRb6E-zFgww_3aw8fwGIkDSUrMziE3M89JOW-0_GloyFIYkULuxUPE3Lg-yEC-v_vmxVrcq1nly5mjwvjwCVsF/s640/blogger-image--415875892.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2aoMxYcyWwLx3_1Lrt2cxj-hZQnAN4H-ADb5HlbQnzOWSLvlE9p5pmAQRb6E-zFgww_3aw8fwGIkDSUrMziE3M89JOW-0_GloyFIYkULuxUPE3Lg-yEC-v_vmxVrcq1nly5mjwvjwCVsF/s640/blogger-image--415875892.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>Big feelings<div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Did you know that I used to think those two words, when put together, meant that there was something wrong with me?</div><div><br></div><div>A Facebook friend who is so positive all the time -- praying for everyone and being a light -- felt God calling her to admit her secret: her health was majorly messed up, and she was in excruciating pain all day long.</div><div><br></div><div>For the last few days, I have wondered why she wasn't up front about her pain. Certainly, she didn't have to share. That was all her rightful call to make. </div><div><br></div><div>But why are we so scared to admit we are going through big things that give us big feelings?</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>If you had told me "I can give you a magic wand, and you can change one thing about yourself," I likely would think that you were nuts ... But then seriously consider changing the extent to which I feel my feelings.</div><div><br></div><div>When I think of my emotions, I think of a roller coaster. Things just FEEL bigger. The highs are high and the lows are low. I am the opposite of what you might call an even-keeled person. </div><div><br></div><div>And this bothers me.</div><div><br></div><div>When I think of roller-coaster emotions, I think of someone who is unstable. Someone you don't want to do business with. Someone who's a little multi-personality. Or Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde-esque. </div><div><br></div><div>When I think of even-keeled emotions, I think of slow and steady. You know exactly what you're getting, every time. Attractive in business, in life and in relationship. This is the person you want to be around. This is the person you want to be.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Except the problem with this is that some of the circumstances I am going through are naturally not meant for even-keeled feelings. In fact, if you felt even-keeled about them, you might just not have a heart. (Or a heartbeat.)</div><div><br></div><div>My grandpa is not doing well. He's in his mid-nineties, and all the sudden couldn't walk. (He is normally very active, takes care of himself, and even maintains a huge vegetable garden.) And this week, he was admitted to the hospital, and now he's home requiring 24-hour care.</div><div><br></div><div>My grandmas from both sides died quickly, with no warning really. Just died. And I got those calls that make no sense at the time that the person you love more than anything is now gone.</div><div><br></div><div>And now that my grandpa is not well, every time I see my mom or dad call, my heart hits the floor and I just wait for the news that he too is gone.</div><div><br></div><div>Ryan and I have been searching plane tickets for me to go visit my grandpa. But just today I found out he doesn't want any company.</div><div><br></div><div>I want to see my grandpa before he dies. And we were working on a plan to get me there. But now I don't know if I'll ever see him alive again, and it's tearing me up. </div><div><br></div><div>These are big feelings.</div><div><br></div><div>As I snuggled Maddy in bed tonight, all the big feelings I had came dripping from my eyes. Maddy hugged me, and told me "everything will be ok mama." She even went to get me a tissue.</div><div><br></div><div>And I held her as I cried, and yet again thought of how close I came to not knowing her. And of course I thought of all the other babies that didn't make it.</div><div><br></div><div>"Hey Maddy," I said. "thanks for making it out of my belly ok. The other babies didn't make it ... But you did. And mom is glad you made it."</div><div><br></div><div>More big feelings y'all. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>And this also happened today:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbyorvUUQ8En4_R0_Gfun9d84-m7zXnYezTxtmESJroPzyb5JOrr3qMKdwWzFYfG4wrvpUcQP6xbwnUqkd_dO8-FxB9sH1n38w9PncmpPFpMSvSxdSP9ZEpY7ZL2U3_GDTHhoAbpxxBFod/s640/blogger-image-1514460387.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbyorvUUQ8En4_R0_Gfun9d84-m7zXnYezTxtmESJroPzyb5JOrr3qMKdwWzFYfG4wrvpUcQP6xbwnUqkd_dO8-FxB9sH1n38w9PncmpPFpMSvSxdSP9ZEpY7ZL2U3_GDTHhoAbpxxBFod/s640/blogger-image-1514460387.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>While things are still moving slowly, they are most decidedly moving in the direction of reunification. The other children in care have stepped up the plan. Things are moving.</div><div><br></div><div>And I find that during the day, I hug baby Z so tight and kiss him so much because I just want to hold on forever.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>But I can't. </div><div><br></div><div>Roller-coaster big feelings.</div><div><br></div><div>In spite of the fact that normal people, even even-keeled people, might have similar emotions, I fight the lie that I need to pretend to have it all put together.</div><div><br></div><div>Because I don't want people to look at me and think, "oh my, there goes that girl with big feelings again. Stay clear of her ... She'll emote all over the place."</div><div><br></div><div>Instead I want you guys to see me as I am -- well, mostly am -- a chill girl that loves to meet new people, learn about what makes them tick. I love coffee and connection, and it's even better when they are together. Some of my favorite people are my parents, siblings and in-laws. I love being with our families.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm highly motivated, and have a dream burning in my gut to make a difference. I have such a strong desire to change the world. I feel a connection to people who mourn, and want to support them in loss. </div><div><br></div><div>I think too heavy sometimes, but I'm constantly thinking, challenging my beliefs of the world and my role in it.</div><div><br></div><div>One of my favorite things to do is launch a new person in my business, and help them get started on their dreams. I love to sing, be silly with my kids, have dance parties in the kitchen and play tickle monster on the floor.</div><div><br></div><div>When I love, I love hard and deep. When I am sad, it cuts to the core. When I am happy, life feels carefree and full of joy. And when one of my children make me angry, I have to be super careful not to lose my temper. (And sometimes J still do.)</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I guess my fear is that when I share my big feelings with you, you think that is all I'm made of. That the other parts to me, or even the happy big feelings, get lost in translation. </div><div><br></div><div>So that's why I sometimes hide my big feelings. <i>Why do you hide yours?</i></div><div><br></div>Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-89210625388862678402015-08-13T09:22:00.000-07:002015-08-13T09:22:13.575-07:00To Sam & Nia: On miscarrying and grieving in the public eye from someone who knows<br />
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Photo Credit: Sam & Nia/YouTube</div>
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Dear Nia and Sam,<br />
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When your first video went viral, I couldn't watch it. I didn't want to watch it. I thought it was sweet, and maybe interesting (how did he get your pee??), but something held me back.<br />
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You see, I've had 4 miscarriages. (Well, one was ectopic. But you know, an early loss). So pregnancy announcements aren't really my thing.<br />
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It wasn't until I saw your miscarriage announcement that I watched your pregnancy announcement video.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I had to know your joy before I could truly feel your pain.</span><br />
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I could relate to your joy. I could tell how it took all of two seconds after seeing the positive test before you were already envisioning not just a baby in your arms, but a baby right there at the breakfast table, enjoying mashed bananas and rice cereal. How in mere moments, your youngest, your "baby", suddenly became big brother.<br />
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The world watched as your entire life and mindset shifted. You were thinking of how to announce, and tell family and friends. How big your belly will get, and what kind of vlogs you'll do to track your pregnancy. You probably found out your due date right away, and envisioned that season with a newborn in it. Perhaps you thought about the nursery, and who you were going to move where to make it all work. Maybe you started setting up appointments, and skip your morning coffee, and find your mind wandering a million times to the joyful blessing growing inside you. Suddenly, your family of 4 became a growing family of 5.<br />
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And in just one split second, you knew life would never be the same again.<br />
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And your pain? I can relate. I know that empty feeling you spoke of. After the clots and tissue come out, you just feel better. And you hate your body for feeling better. Feeling your body cramp, watching the blood pour out -- it is helpless and gut-wrenching. You can never really understand the pain of a miscarriage until you've been through one.<br />
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The loss of this baby will be something that is with you forever. There are no easy band-aid fixes for the loss of a child at any age or gestation.<br />
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As I have been watching the news of your loss spread (maybe not with the same intensity as your pregnancy announcement), I have also been watching the comments.<br />
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I kind of hope you aren't seeing them.<br />
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In case you are, I want to share with you just a little bit of my heart -- from someone who's been there. From someone whose blog has gone viral. Who has both been applauded and scorned for sharing the intimate details of early pregnancy and loss.<br />
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<b><i>First -- and you already know this I'm sure -- there will be haters.</i></b> <b><i>But only for a time.</i></b><br />
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I wish there were no haters to bereaved families -- but even in a miscarriage that is relatively silent, there are still people who say the wrong things. Since your loss was so public, there will be more haters. There will be more people who don't hate but don't care. And more people who care and still say all the wrong things anyway. In this social media culture, too many would rather be right than be supportive.<br />
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So the haters are there -- but they will only be there for just a little bit. Their words sting, they hurt, but like mosquitoes, their effect will not last. They will rise up, accuse you of false hope, naivety or even worse, but then they will go away. Because they don't care enough to stick around. They only care enough to "prove" that they were right.</div>
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Like you would a pesky mosquito, wave that hater good-bye.<br />
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If the haters don't stay long, who will?</div>
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Supporters. People who love you, people who will wrap their arms around you, people who will pray for you more than you ever even knew. These are the people holding tight, checking your feed for any updates, praying without stopping and crying over your baby.</div>
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These people are gold.<br />
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Before my post went viral, I received some really heavy criticism of my view point. I was so heavily scorned, I contemplated taking the post down -- just so I didn't have to read people say things like "You have offended me AND offended all of my babies in heaven."<br />
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But I didn't take it down. And God used it. I mean, he used it bigger and better than I ever could have imagined.<br />
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And out of that, people I never would have met have come forward. They remember my baby's due dates. They have created art work for me. They have prayed and prayed and prayed for our family. They have celebrated with each child who has come into our home, and they have cried for each baby that goes to heaven too soon.<br />
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Your support is here. We are waiting to love on you. As much as you can, ignore the hurtful remarks. And cling to the blessing of support.<br />
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Your baby didn't live long. But through you, her life may reach more for Him than you could ever imagine.</i></b><br />
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After <a href="http://thelewisnote.blogspot.com/2014/02/why-miscarriage-matters-if-youre-pro.html" target="_blank">my post went viral</a> -- affirming life and the value of miscarried babies --<a href="http://thelewisnote.blogspot.com/2014/02/my-letter-to-olivia.html" target="_blank"> I wrote a letter to the first baby I lost</a>. I named her Olivia. I started my blog as a way to heal -- but also as a way to help someone else heal through their loss. I wondered if I could just reach one other person.<br />
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She has reached over a million people.<br />
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7 weeks of life. And a million people reached.<br />
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I know you wanted your baby here. And let's be real -- for a long time, it won't matter how many people your baby's life will change. You will want her here, with your other two kids. You would give anything to still have her in your belly. To be counting down till the due date. To pack your hospital bag and have baby showers. To watch her crawl for the first time. To feed her her first foods. To send her off to kindergarten. To watch her graduate. To walk her down the aisle. To be in the room as she gives birth to her own baby.<br />
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I get it. You would give it all to have that back.<br />
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The pain of your loss cannot be measured. But it will make a difference, I promise. A love like yours can't <b><i>not</i></b> make a difference. Your baby's life was not in vain. God will use it, He will use you, and someone's life will be forever changed because your baby lived for little time she was here.<br />
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<b><i>Gr</i></b><i><b>ieving by yourself can be hard. Grieving in the public eye can be harder in some ways. Don't let others complicate your grief by telling you how you should feel, what you should do, and when you should move forward.</b></i><br />
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I can't tell you how long you will be in deep grief. Everyone grieves differently. I can't tell you when you will wake up, and your first thought will not be your baby. I can't tell you when you will laugh again lightheartedly. I can't tell you when other people's pregnancy announcements will stop hurting. Or when you won't have triggers all day long remind you of who you are missing.<br />
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I can't tell you when your grief will lighten. But it will. Slowly.<br />
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You might feel guilty to think of not grieving as much as you are now. I was there too. I didn't WANT life to keep going, the world to keep spinning, for people to flit to and fro while my child was gone. I didn't want to be OK.<br />
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You don't have to hurry to get through it. You take whatever time you need. Don't let anyone rush you to feel better. They just want to see you happy again. They just care, and it hurts to see you hurt.<br />
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You can't rush grief. It demands it's own timeline, and no one can tell you what that is.<br />
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Just know that there is life here on the other side of it. You'll make it through. And in the meantime, grieve however is right for you. </div>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">You are doing a good thing.</i> Right now, our culture does it's very best to minimize the humanness of an unborn child. The sanctity of a new life. The value in a pregnancy ... Not in the <i>dreams </i>we have for our kids, but in the actual bodies and souls of our babies. </div>
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You sharing your grief is one big testimony that loss matters. That each baby matters. That they are worthy to be mourned. </div>
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When you celebrated your baby, the world was right there ready to celebrate with you. And now that you are mourning, they want to say things like "it was just early," or "you didn't ever see your baby," or "you can just try again."</div>
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For some reason, people struggle to admit that an early loss really is the loss of a child ... Even as they will totally celebrate that a positive pregnancy test means a baby is on its way.</div>
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As you grieve, other hurting women will feel not so alone. You will help them see that their feelings are normal as you share your own feelings. They will watch you walk through miscarriage, the bad, the ugly, and yes some of the good, and realize that if you could make it through, they could too.</div>
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In these days that seem impossibly hard ... Know that there's a whole community of grieving moms and dads here ready to lift you up in support and prayer,<br />
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<br />Rachel<br />
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Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-14411947330230857602015-08-11T21:25:00.001-07:002015-08-11T21:26:22.524-07:00my friend's baby died yesterday.... Please prayMy friend Kristina reached out to me several months ago. I had posted a video on Facebook about a couple as the endured the death of their Trisomy 13 baby. She messaged me to let me know her baby was recently diagnosed with Trisomy 13 in utero, and would not be expected to live.<br />
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Through the last few months, we've kept in touch, shared tears and and prayed together.<br />
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Today was the day's she was scheduled to be induced ... But her baby boy made his entrance into the workd yesterday. He lived a few minutes before leaving for Jesus' arms.<br />
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Many of you are bereaved moms. You know this pain ... Even in ways I don't.<br />
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Please be lifting up my friend, her husband, and their two children up to God as the endure the loss and grief.<br />
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Here is a bit about her baby Ezekiel:<br />
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<span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; color: #38393c; font-family: Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">"But for now I want to tell you a little bit about our boy, that "did not go gentle into that good night." He held on so strong and for so long. He was a fighter. He grew and survived with a broken body for a miraculous 36 weeks inside my womb, with almost no amniotic fluid, or space to move or grow. He managed to hold on longer still, through the stress of labor. And against all odds, and a body not made for taking a breath, he lived long enough for us to meet him and marvel at his miracle, love on him, and give our goodbye. I am so very proud of him for holding on and giving us that gift. </span><br />
<br style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; box-sizing: border-box; color: #38393c; font-family: Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;" />
<span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: white; color: #38393c; font-family: Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Ezekiel was a little over 2 1/2 lbs. He had a head full of dark hair, the sweetest lips, and the tiniest, perfect little fingernails and toenails. Adoration and Asa were able to meet him after he had passed. We had to cover some of Ezekiel's face, but they saw him and touched Ezekiel's little feet and toes and told him they loved him. I'm so thankful for those moments. "</span><br />
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If you would like to know more of her story, here is her<a href="http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/ezekielpromise/journal/view/id/55caa2b2f02065364ed93acb" target="_blank"> Caring Bridge site. </a><br />
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Thanks for lifting up Kristina and her family with me.<br />
<br />Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-39996069405421674572015-08-04T22:55:00.002-07:002015-08-04T22:55:57.118-07:00On your should-have-been birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hey there baby Olivia.<br />
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You're not so baby anymore, you know that?<br />
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You were due to arrive safely in my arms three years ago today. Well, at least that was the plan. You know how plans go. And you definitely know how this plan went.<br />
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Looking back, I can't believe how much I've changed in the last 3 years. I look older. I hope I don't look QUITE the 32 I am -- but I can see how much grief has aged me. It's kinda ridiculous actually.<br />
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You know the "hope deferred makes the heart sick" thing? Well, apparently it causes wrinkles too.<br />
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I'm stronger now. And weaker. Sometimes I think I break more easily now. Other times, I think I had no idea what I was actually capable of handling. (With God of course. Never on my own.)<br />
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In those 3 years, I've learned that everyone has a story. I used to think "us" and "them." Those who have experienced pregnancy loss -- and those who haven't. While all pain is pain, some pain has a different flavor. I've learned not to expect other people to understand who haven't walked in my shoes. Afterall, I know nothing of the pain of an affair, or infidelity, or the loss of child you got to hold. These are things I can't understand -- but even if I don't get the right flavor of pain . . . pain is still pain. And there are a lot of us here on earth going through it.<br />
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If 3 years ago you would have told me that I would go on to lose 3 more babies in early pregnancy, I would have probably lost so much more of my will to keep going. Losing you was enough. It has always been enough. If you had told me that I would likely never go on to have a successful pregnancy . . . If someone had said, "By the way, welcome to infertility . . ." I might have just given up hope.<br />
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It's a good thing we don't always get a heads up on the challenges coming our way.<br />
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You were the last baby I truly had hope for. The last due date where I actually expected that someone was going to be due. You were the last time I jumped into love the moment that second line appeared.<br />
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3 years ago today, I should have been either getting ready to give birth or have a new baby in my arms. Today, I should be celebrating a birthday, or planning a party for you. (Ok, let's be real. My parties take very little planning. You would have decorated cupcakes and we would have had family over for cake, coffee & ice cream. And then you would have gotten spoiled by all the people loving on you with gifts.)<br />
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You and me -- we have a lot of shoulds. Should haves, should have dones. should have beens . . .<br />
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But here on earth, the shoulds mean nothing. Well, they mean something to us. But in how life plays out, they mean nothing. They are empty, they are illusions, they are dreams never realized.<br />
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Our story is something I wouldn't have chosen. Not in a million years. In my story, I would have chosen you to be with me always. (Or at least until college, and then I would have settled for weekends. And summers. Until you got married, or moved out. But then you really would have needed to visit. Especially if you were bringing grandchildren with you!)<br />
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In spite of all the empty "should haves" between you and me -- God has still done a lot. He brought us your sister and your brother. And sometimes I wonder, dear girl, if He has used your short 7 weeks you were with us to impact more people through our story than you could have in your own lifetime.<br />
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Heaven only knows.<br />
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It's time for me to get to bed. I think you would have probably given your mama a lot more rest than Z and Leyla do -- but they always wake up at 6 am, no matter how late they go to bed.<br />
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One last thing before I go -- Remember how I used to sing on worship team before you left us? And then I stopped because all I could do is cry during worship. And crying on stage doesn't really HELP anyone else worship. Well, today, I followed up on a calling I've felt for over a year now. I joined the worship team again. On the anniversary of the due date that never was -- I've restarted a passion of mine. Even as we're a spiritual world apart, we're praising our Father together. I love that this happened on your should-have-been-birthday.<br />
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Happy (almost) birthday my love.<br />
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Wish I could squeeze you tight.<br />
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Mommy<br />
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<br />Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-46411218115446206072015-08-01T11:34:00.002-07:002015-08-03T00:40:41.396-07:00Why keeping our own kids safe is simply not enough<br>
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Recently, I saw a news trend on my Facebook account. "Suicide bomber kills 16 people in Nigeria."<br>
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For whatever reason, I clicked on it. And it only took seconds for me to be absolutely appalled. You see, the headline just made it sound like a "typical" suicide bomber. I assumed a man, maybe in his thirties or forties, from a radical religious or political group. </div>
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Holy cow, people, this was NOT who that was.</div>
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<a href="http://time.com/3972686/boko-haram-nigeria-damaturu-suicide-bomb/" target="_blank">Here is a excerpt from <i>Time</i> magazine:</a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">A 10-year old girl killed 16 people in a suicide bombing in the northeastern Nigeria city of Damaturu on Sunday. </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The girl detonated her explosives next to a crowded market as shoppers were being screened by security services. According to the BBC, around 50 people were injured."</span></span></span></div>
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She was a 10-year-old little girl. </div>
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10. </div>
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My daughter is 6, but it is close enough to 10 to know that this is a child who deserved to be playing, skipping, hopping, riding bikes and going to school. </div>
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NOT being strapped down with explosives, with so much fear instilled in her, that she pulled the trigger.</div>
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I need you to see something for me. So often, we hear statistics, and ages, and we just let the fog of their anonymity cloud our hearts to protect us.</div>
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Can we all just let the fog lift for a moment?</div>
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This is my daughter, Maddy. She is 6 and a half, and she is precious, and she deserves a life.</div>
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Can you please picture in your mind my daughter's face, picture her body strapped down with explosives? Can you imagine her terror?</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Can you SEE with me that this 10-year-old is no less deserving of care, and protection, and LIFE than my own daughter is? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div>
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Can you please just imagine the last moment's of this girl's life with me? Can you feel her racing heart, and her trembling, fumbling hands? Can you smell the aromas of food wafting around her in the market place? The people shuffling by, boys and girls close to her age. Men and women. Who will it be, she wonders? Who will die, and who will make it?</div>
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Or perhaps she doesn't even know. Does she understand what will happen when she pulls the trigger?</div>
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Was she kidnapped? Or had she grown up in this home, the one that filled her with a fear big enough she couldn't run to authorities, couldn't ask a grown-up for help, couldn't say "no."</div>
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Who was she? And truth be told, do we even care?<br>
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Also this week, a lion named Cecil was killed in Africa. </div>
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And the world went up in arms. </div>
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Admittedly, I didn't care about the lion. </div>
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Maybe I would have cared more if days before I hadn't read about a no-named 10-year-old African girl who had been murdered, and was forced to kill others in her murder, and was labeled as a suicide bomber. As though 10-year-old girls CHOOSE to be suicide bombers.</div>
<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">There was no war cry for justice. No demands for the name or face of the murderer. </span></div>
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Her life slipped from this world with a bang, and none of us paused long enough to notice.</div>
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Not a single person on my feed posted about the girl.</div>
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Not even me.</div>
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Last weekend, I watched a movie that changed me. It was The Woman in Gold.</div>
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It was a WWII movie ... But unlike many Holocaust movies, this showed nothing of death camps, and families stripped naked, shivering and starving.</div>
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The terror in this movie actually sits far too close to home.</div>
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I think when we see humans stripped of their dignity to such an extent as the Nazis did the Jews, and is often portrayed in movies (shaving heads, separating families, taking away clothes, starving of food, and killing at random), it is so far outside our context of the world today, that we almost just stand back emotionally and watch.<br>
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We detach. We can't relate.</div>
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It feels like that happened a million years ago.</div>
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But to watch The Woman in Gold is to see the Holocaust in a whole new light. To see the Holocaust as if it were happening to us, today. To our friends, our neighbors, our doctor, our lawyer.</div>
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I know that the Jews were targeted in the Holocaust. But until watching this movie, it never occurred to me to think about all the other non-Jews that neither contributed to the genocide, nor did they impede it.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">THEY JUST SIMPLY STOOD BY AND <em>WATCHED IT HAPPEN.</em></span></div>
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Maybe it was through propaganda, or political pressure, or the fear that something would happen to them and their own children.</div>
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But no matter what the excuse, their inaction really came down to "as long as it's not happening to me and my family, I'm going to turn a blind eye." </div>
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There was one scene ... Just a blip really ... Where a well-off father, mother and daughter were taken from their home. The mom was sobbing, and you just knew what was going to happen to this family.</div>
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That could have been us, people. It could have been us, having police come into our homes, take our children from us, and ultimately murder us. But by the grace of God, we were born decades later, or in a different part of the world.</div>
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Thank God this is not my reality. But at the end of the movie, I felt just like one of the non-Jews, burying my head in the sand. I know atrocities are around, and yet I am so insistent on keeping my own little world, my own little people safe, my own mental state happy and content that I willingly turn a blind eye. </div>
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Because as long as my people are safe, I shouldn't let it affect me too much, right? </div>
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Also this week, an 8-year-old girl named Maddy was sexually assaulted, raped and murdered by a 15-year-old boy. She was lured into his family apartment while she was riding along on her scooter. </div>
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I have cried many tears this week for this girl I'll never know. </div>
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And if there hasn't already been enough horrific violence just this week, videos have come out showing the gruesome remains of aborted babies. I have watched a video of a baby's severed hand laying on a Petri dish. And I want to say it was shocking, except it wasn't.</div>
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Deep down, I want to be shocked, I want to be angrier at this loss of life, I want to be nauseous inside that this is happening.</div>
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Except I feel somewhat numb. As if <b><i>it </i></b>has already happened in my heart.</div>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">It </i>is the thing that has happened to the Nazis and the non-Jewish people. The same thing that has happened to the men who strapped a 10-year-old child with explosives, forever labeling her a suicide bomber. The same thing that happened the 15-year-old boy that raped and murdered Maddy. The same thing that I see so much all around me, I've become numb to it.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>The dehumanization of humans.</em></span></div>
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The belief that a person is nothing but an object, or a tool, for political propaganda. That women and men (and now girls and boys) have no rights to their own bodies ... But they are merely objects to satisfy others. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The belief that humans are not really humans and deserving of all rights unless they are old enough, big enough, strong enough, the right color, the right gender, the right race, with the right abilities, and the right financial means in the right part of the world and on the right side of the womb. (And we must know them, or have some sort of connection to them, or at least be able to <em>relate </em>to them, right?)</span></div>
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Friends, the last thing in the world that I want to do is bury my head in the sand when 10-year-old girls are being murdered as political trump cards and 15-year-olds boys believe rape and murder of a child is OK. I don't want to stand by numb. I don't want to be so afraid of afraid of offending people when I say killing humans inside the womb is wrong.</div>
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I don't want to look back on my life and say, "Oh my goodness. There was a holocaust happening. And I turned my eyes and refused to look." </div>
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I'm not relishing in the defunding of Planned Parenthood movement. But I just can't sit back and watch the dehumanization of people anymore. I can't watch as we teach our kids that life isn't life. That life is a choice. That someone else's life depends on your wants or needs.<br>
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And maybe it starts with Planned Parenthood, but it also <span style="font-size: large;">has to be more.</span><br>
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I know that was the second prayer on my lips this week, after the prayer for God to open my eyes to the suffering I was ignoring. And now that I see it, I'm crying out and asking how I could possibly do anything to save these lives and affirm their humanity. All of humanity. Not just the pre-born ones, or the white ones, or the one that reside on my continent. But all of humanity.</div>
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It has to be the movies we choose not to watch. Are we filling our minds with images of women who are objectified as sex objects? Do we watch women being tortured or murdered for the sake of entertainment? Are we allowing ourselves to become numb to violence, abuse and death so that when it happens in the news or in real life, we can no longer feel the horror of it?<br>
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Do we have boundaries in our homes around the internet? Are we talking with our kids about porn, and it's effects? Are we discussing the ideas of consent? <br>
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When we see an injustice, are we turning our heads? Do we ignore current events because it is just too hard for us to read? What about for the people living it?<br>
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Are we making our homes available for children in need? Are we willing to give to moms who need support, or do we hoard what we are given? <br>
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We can't simply take one thing away and expect our society to be so much better. You and me. We have to step up. We have to stop being the non-Jews in the midst of a Holocaust, burying our heads and just trying to keep our own families SAFE.<br>
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I don't know all the answers. I'm certainly not here to give any easy ones.<br>
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I can't even tell you where this all will lead me. <br>
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But I know that if I have any integrity left in my bones, it's going to lead to action. <br>
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I will not let my children say of me, <br>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">SHE JUST SIMPLY STOOD BY AND <em>WATCHED IT HAPPEN.</em></span></div>
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Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-69486106916177097552015-07-29T00:33:00.001-07:002015-07-29T00:43:13.102-07:0010 ways to help a foster child without being a foster parent<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I write this short blog on my phone, I'm cradling Baby Z --- our foster son of almost a year --- in my arms. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He's fitfully sleeping. I just finished singing "<i>You are my sunshine</i>" ... always keenly aware that the words, "You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away..." ring much truer than I would like.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Many of you have told us that you respect our role as foster parents. Some of you have asked how we are going to do it ... you know ... the "giving back" part. (I usually tell you I have no idea how to give a baby back. We haven't done that yet.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Most of you conclude by saying that you could never do what we do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://thelewisnote.blogspot.com/2014/11/why-could-never-be-foster-parent-i-get.html" target="_blank">I've already done my best to let you know that actually, you could be a foster parent.</a> (And you'd probably make an amazing one.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In case you still want to help ... but truly believe you can't be a foster parent yourself (yet) ... I want to give you some ideas on how to still help foster children. Because I know your heart (it's awesome), and I know there is still so much left you can do --- even if you can't take a child long-term into your home.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9L2usVM_PrCJmjIP50-LaJTs1H3798Ymls-ScVLyaTmjmKx4XzC-AGH0JVqDBgQDQcJhAHo9341QA8XVwHZX0oxD1wXWSRlB18fW8L0QdrbTnewYtUScjmaQT7Ybadw6NiY658NeaudT/s1600/10+ways+to+help+a+foster+child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9L2usVM_PrCJmjIP50-LaJTs1H3798Ymls-ScVLyaTmjmKx4XzC-AGH0JVqDBgQDQcJhAHo9341QA8XVwHZX0oxD1wXWSRlB18fW8L0QdrbTnewYtUScjmaQT7Ybadw6NiY658NeaudT/s640/10+ways+to+help+a+foster+child.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">1. Provide meals for foster families when they receive a placement. (And by placement, I really mean a child.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">God made it so that most families have an average of 9 months to prepare physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually for a new baby to enter a family. That gives time to not only grow a human, but also to make freezer meals, hold baby showers, do registries, prepare nurseries, purchase appropriate clothing, and nest to your heart's content.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Foster families only get about 24 hours notice before taking a child (give or take 23 hours). And that's if they are lucky.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Foster care moves quickly ... Usually, it seems ONLY in this stage ... And as a parent, it is OVERWHELMING. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have gotten the call about a baby in the morning, and was told to be ready to pick her up, brand-spanking-new, at the hospital that afternoon. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">No matter how much you think you have the room ready, it's not quite enough. You don't know the gender or the age of the child that is going to be placed in your home, till you get the call. You don't know what they will come with --- in our case, only a week's worth of clothes for our foster son. (And we had 0 boy clothes on hand.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not only is it hard to prepare, but with a new child, a social worker has to come to the house within 24 hours. You have SO many appointments those first few weeks, it is crazy. There is paperwork, doctor's appointments, sometimes court to attend, day care to set up ... The list is long and crazy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Plus you have a child that has changed living situations, is living now with strangers, and is likely stressed and possibly traumatized.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">All that to say ... Preparing for a child in 24 hours is a lot of work, and stress, and chaos ... Even if the foster parents are happy to do it. A meal would be a ginormous, super amazing, mega huge thing to do for foster families. Like really. Huge like the Hulk. A REALLY BIG DEAL.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you are far away, consider sending a gift card to a pizza place or take-out restaurant. Or volunteer to organize meals via Mealtrain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Vow that if a foster family you know gets a new child, you'll let them know meals will be the last thing they have to worry about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">2. Give or lend clothes, age-appropriate toys and books.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After having two girls, all our clothes were decidedly pink, purple or princess. When Baby Z came along ... Well, he didn't have a chance. (And yes, for awhile, his pajamas were quite girly. Sometimes, they still are.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our toys were equally girly. Sure, we had some blocks and Legos and a few other gender neutral toys, but our one and only dump truck was pink and purple. (No joke.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'll always remember when my friend Maria came by and dropped off a few bags of boy clothes, plus several boy books and toys. (FINALLY --- a proper boy truck for the boy!) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'll also be forever indebted to my girlfriend Alex, for lending me tons of hand-me-downs, helping me keep Z looking good for over 6 months.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A stranger on a local "buy for baby" Facebook group GAVE me her jumper she had originally posted for sale, just because we were foster parents.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">These were all huge blessings!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Before you gather up all your unwanted baby items, send them to Goodwill, hold a garage sale, or post them on Craigslist or Facebook ... Call or message your foster friends to see if they need anything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you don't know any foster families personally, Google "foster care agencies" then give them a call. Ask if they need any donations of clothes or toys. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If there are no agencies, call your local DSHS. They have to stock visitation rooms (rooms designated for bio families to visit the kids in a secure, supervised location) with toys, puzzles, books, and baby gear. Many times, they could use some new-to-them toys.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you have clothes to donate, check in with your local foster care clothing closet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Your unwanted, unnecessary items to YOU could be a huge blessing for a foster family, and lift a big financial burden from their shoulders. So start giving and start lending!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">3. Throw a baby shower for your friends who are fostering.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you have friends that have just announced they are fostering, or are hoping to adopt from foster care, offer to throw them a shower. While you will always want to check with the foster couple first, I think this is even more important if the family is fostering or adopting because they don't already have biological children. Why make them miss out on this really fun part of becoming a family?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I know this might seem a little untraditional, as foster children are often not permanent additions to the family. But if someone is getting licensed, throw them a shower anyway. They have lots of purchases they'll need to make in order to get their home foster ready. For instance, even though our crib was perfectly safe and in great shape, we had to purchase a brand-new crib because of a state law, just to get licensed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You can also help them get caught up on the basics. Do they have a double-stroller if they are intending to take a sibling set? Do they have gift cards for diapers, formula, wipes and clothes? Do they have bedding for the crib, and a smorgasbord of toys or books to keep on hand? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If a foster child's parental rights have been terminated, and the foster family is moving forward with an adoption, now is the perfect time to offer to celebrate the joyful addition to their family. The focus at this point might not be so much on preparing for baby --- as in many cases, the child has already been living with the family. But this is an opportunity for you to celebrate with them, and let them know that you are just as much in support of their family growing as you would be if they were giving birth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">4. Take their picture.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Are you a photographer? Are you just really handy with a camera? Offer to give their new family, and especially their child, a portrait. While a family portrait is likely not something they'll want to do right away, it can be an amazing gift to parents when their foster child is about to return home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It is also a gift to the foster child. Most foster children don't have access to photos of themselves. Help give that child memories to take with them once they leave.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">5. Volunteer.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our foster agency, <a href="http://www.westsoundyfc.org/" target="_blank">West Sound Youth for Christ,</a> holds quarterly trainings for us foster parents. You may not know this, but like physicians and nurses, we are required by state law to do continuing education. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">To help us meet our ongoing training requirements, our agency holds a dinner and training night for our family ... Complete with childcare. Volunteers help prepare and serve our dinner, and watch our kids.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You could be that volunteer! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">6. Organize an Angel Tree at your church for Christmas ... Or purchase gifts for a child featured on the tree.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our agency partnered with our church this year to provide Christmas gifts to children in care.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Most states DO give a monthly stipend to foster parents who have taken in a child... But that stipend has to cover clothing, food, formula, diapers, wipes, activity expenses, school expenses, extracurricular activities and more. For homes who have taken in several children (or already have several children of their own), Christmas can be somewhat of a financial burden. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This year, even though we did not request it, Z was placed on a tree, and received many clothes, books and toys. And when he moves back into his bio parent's house, he'll definitely be taking these along with him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">7. Pray.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Foster care is amazing ... <i>And hard.</i> Rewarding... <i>And hard.</i> Totally worth it ... <i>And hard. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Cover foster families in prayer. Pray for their marriages, and the other children in their home. Pray for healing of children's emotional and physical wounds.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Pray extra hard during transitions. Pray for God's protection on this family as Satan seriously does not like to see his work go undone. And pray for the bio families as well. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm constantly amazed at the people who have told us they pray for our family. Seriously guys. One of the best things you can do. Loving a child like your own and then letting them go takes a super-human love and super-human strength. It is basically God in us. So pray for us. And pray hard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">8. Provide respite.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Did you know that is some states, you can babysit foster children, even overnight, without being licensed? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In Washington state, trusted friends and families can care for a child for up to 48 hours without having to be licensed. This is JUST enough time for a couple to get away for a weekend, reconnect, and put some of the stress of foster care behind them ... At least for a while.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When Z was not sleeping (and by that, I mean he was waking up anywhere from every 20 minutes to 6 times a night), friends Jessica and Jamel took Z for a weekend ... So Ryan and I could get some much needed sleep. This was another really.big.deal. (Sleep and food are pretty much at the top of my priority list, can you tell?)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You can also get licensed JUST to provide respite. Respite is overnight, state-paid babysitting for foster kids. You don't have to take a child long-term, and you get to decide when, the ages, and how long you want to provide respite ... But this is a HUGE need that doesn't require a long-term commitment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Currently, because of vaccination laws, there is a shortage of homes for foster babies under age 2. And this means that finding respite through our agency is extremely difficult, as they have lost <i>half</i> of the homes that were available to these children. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you think you could love on some children for a weekend, or a week or two ... Contact an agency and find out how you can become licensed for respite.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">9. Donate.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some foster parents have extra needs.<a href="http://www.gofundme.com/hopevan" target="_blank"> Like this family here. Meet my friend Shellie. </a>She is caring for 7 children, 2 of them medically-fragile foster kids, in spite of her chronic health issues and crazy busy schedule. In order for them to continue caring for these two children, they need to purchase a 12-passenger van, as Shellie can no longer drive at nights --- making their current system of taking two cars everywhere impossible. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you have been blessed with extra, consider giving to a foster family in need.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Or donate to a non-profit foster agency, like Youth for Christ. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">10. Become a foster parent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ok, ok. I said you didn't have to become a foster parent to help. And clearly there are LOTS of ways to help without getting licensed yourself. But you can't SERIOUSLY expect me to write a post about helping foster kids without mentioning becoming a foster parent yourself, can you?</span></div>
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I just want to encourage you to mull it around for a while. Call an agency or DSHS and find out what's involved. Talk to your partner. Look at your house and see if there's room for two more little feet.<br />
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I'm not saying foster care is for everyone . . . but that's the point, right? It's not really FOR US.<br />
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It's for hurting, abused, neglected kids who need love, security, and a place to call H-O-M-E.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You don't have to have a lot of living space, be the perfect parent, be a stay-at-home parent, have tons of nice things or a huge income to be a foster parent. You need love, and patience, and the willingness to be inconvenienced for the sake of a child.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We all see horrible news stories every night of children that are taken from abusive situations, or have been neglected, sexually abused, and sometimes murdered. We have seen with our eyes ... Even if we didn't want to --- the plight of these hurting kids. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yes, they system is far from perfect, and yes, it's hard. (I think I mentioned that a time or three.) But it is worth it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As part of our family's legacy, we can say that we have taken in a child who was starved for love and nutrition, helped him catch up completely, given him the tools to love and attach to others, and know what it means to have a family. And this legacy is one that our own children will grow up knowing. (Not to mention the fact that one of my own children would not be here of it weren't for us taking the plunge, and deciding to do foster care.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">How amazing would it be for this to be your legacy too? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You can do respite, receiving care, adoption only, short-term or long-term care ... You can take babies from the hospital or college students who need a home to go to on weekends and holidays. You choose what you are comfortable saying "yes" to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So before you just say, "I can't do it . . . " I want you to ask yourself, "What if I can?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">No matter which of the 10 ways you choose to help without becoming foster parent (OK, OK, it's really 9 ways) . . . let's lock arms and start changing these kids' lives one meal, one toy, one outfit, one prayer, and one sleepless night at a time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Because THEY ARE WORTH IT.</span></div>
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Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-71809194661928455332015-07-27T21:25:00.002-07:002015-07-27T21:25:18.315-07:00Microblog Monday: 2 ways to write brilliantly<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD-RghO4RvOmNhUCfM-qCJhdpWBHFH63t2YszvJISldkIQQGJhYUcV_Exs2-ltdbbr0cmaPFIMdEyMNsYMSX4PKFliAxXwzDSaSZzgqwH3aw5nPBLtvV6h1tfa3Znnd1oCrs-J9l8IYG7l/s1600/Photo+credit+Dwayne+Bent+%2528Flickr%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD-RghO4RvOmNhUCfM-qCJhdpWBHFH63t2YszvJISldkIQQGJhYUcV_Exs2-ltdbbr0cmaPFIMdEyMNsYMSX4PKFliAxXwzDSaSZzgqwH3aw5nPBLtvV6h1tfa3Znnd1oCrs-J9l8IYG7l/s640/Photo+credit+Dwayne+Bent+%2528Flickr%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credit: Dwayne Bent (Flickr), edited with permission</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">1 -- Write what your audience is thinking, feeling, instinctively knows to be their truth, but do not have the words to voice. Write how they feel, give them context to their experience, put language to their truth and they will say, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">"THIS!! Finally, someone totally understands me!<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">" </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It is the one time in human connection when you are the one to speak ... And they are the ones who feel heard.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">2 -- Pen your from your own perspective. Take something that everyone feels they know, or has an opinion on, and bring a unique twist. Open their eyes to a new way of thinking, and it is like peeling back the layers of this universe to show them there is more than what they ever could have imagined. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">"I never would have thought this way, but oh my goodness, this totally makes sense,"</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> they will say to themselves.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">It is one time i</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">n human connection when difference of thought builds bridges instead of building walls.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>Achieve one -- And you will connect with a large audience. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>Achieve both -- and you will connect with that audience for a lifetime.</i></span></div>
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Not sure what Microblog Monday is? <a href="http://www.stirrup-queens.com/2014/09/what-is-microblog-mondays/" target="_blank">Click here.</a></div>
Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-52418255917188841012015-07-20T17:53:00.000-07:002015-07-20T19:08:22.166-07:009 (not-so-average tips) to a healthy 9 months<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMF8XoYsazXt7umfrQvaqsipAj2xXjRZa5MDFJ6Ujp0ch4d2LwrshDWiJuJZpgDiYuOnTkcXyE1uyK0hM_FsL6YOwVLMuafvNgZ1j_ZieRraq_Gp3EoOrWBwV-rWv4WS7JpxnQZfqQPCPZ/s1600/2255_519271509265_8497_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMF8XoYsazXt7umfrQvaqsipAj2xXjRZa5MDFJ6Ujp0ch4d2LwrshDWiJuJZpgDiYuOnTkcXyE1uyK0hM_FsL6YOwVLMuafvNgZ1j_ZieRraq_Gp3EoOrWBwV-rWv4WS7JpxnQZfqQPCPZ/s640/2255_519271509265_8497_n.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">If you found this post looking for advice like:</span></span><br />
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I'm sorry. You'll just have to go search BabyCenter. </span><br />
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Pregnancy has never been easy for me. (You could make the case that it has in fact been very hard.) And my pregnancies have taught me some lessons I'd like to share. Even if they aren't what you would call conventional.</span><br />
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I've been pregnant 5 times, and have given birth to a live baby once. I've had scary complications like HELLP Syndrome, Preeclampsia, threatened premature labor, threatened miscarriage and hemorrhage (and that was in my successful -- unplanned -- pregnancy.) The other pregnancies ended in a ruptured ectopic pregnancy and first-trimester miscarriages. I have been diagnosed with secondary infertility.</span><br />
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When American Recall Center asked me to write my 9 tips for 9 healthy months, I joked with Ryan that I really could just boil my tips down into one big tip:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">JUST DON'T DO WHAT RACHEL DID!</span></div>
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Now, if I haven't totally scared you off yet with my fertility resume -- let me share why I think you should keep reading . . . </span><br />
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What I have lacked in success, I have more than made up for in experience.</span><br />
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If you are like most women, you want a perfectly planned pregnancy, followed by a perfectly executed 9 months, followed by the most meticulously planned birth (that follows their plan a "t"), which ends in a glowing season of postpartum bliss.</span><br />
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<strike>No one</strike> Ahem. <i> Few people</i> get their perfect pregnancy.</span><br />
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You might be one of the few who do get a perfect 9 months. Awesome. Congrats. You rock that bump and postpartum bliss.</span><br />
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But the for the rest of us -- here are my 9 tips to have as healthy of a 9 months you can have.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>1. It doesn't have to be planned to be good.</b></span><br />
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My first positive pregnancy test was a bit of an undoing for me. (And by undoing, I mean, I became a tearful mess, took myself to bed instead of to work, and wailed to my husband that "we are going to have a boy, and when he becomes 16, he'll get his girlfriend pregnant, and we'll have a teenage pregnancy on our hands! What are we going to do then??!!") </span><br />
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Yes, those were my words. My husband simply replied . . . "Are you even serious right now?" </span><br />
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(For the record, I was quite serious.)</span><br />
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(Also for the record, we had a girl.) </span><br />
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Now in this world where we expect kindergartners to already know what they want to do with the rest of their lives, it makes sense that we all expect to plan our pregnancies. The right equation for a baby in today's culture seems to be:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Love + </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">A few years to play + </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">A few years to plan + </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">A house (owned, not rented, with 20% down) + </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">2 successful careers + </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">College funds started for kids + </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Exotic vacations (because you'll never get those again) + </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><u>Marriage (if you're traditional)</u> =</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The right time to start a family</span><br />
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Everyone around us says we have to be READY for a baby for it to be a good thing.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />But can I tell you a little secret? Our unplanned pregnancy was the most beautiful blessing of my life. And if I had waited to plan for a baby, chances are, it would have been too late. I think God maybe knew that if it was going to happen at all, it needed happen now.</span><br />
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And so if you are faced with an unplanned pregnancy -- know that even if the circumstances seem extra stressful, or you just don't feel ready -- relax a little bit. This baby is one of the biggest blessings you'll experience. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>2. Screw the silence on pregnancy. (If you want to, that is.)</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">I don't know when it became the "right" thing to pretend to friends and family that you've had a 3-month flu, hide the fact that you have the energy of a walking zombie, buy a whole new wardrobe that isn't maternity clothes but will cover your growing bump for the first trimester. And all so that if your precious miracle dies, you can mourn and grieve alone, still while pretending to the outside world that you are OK.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />Seriously, why was this ever cool?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">If you are the silent type, and honestly want to crawl in a proverbial hole from the world in case of a miscarriage, to each his own. By all means, hide your pregnancy. That is your right.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">But if you are hiding because it is the RIGHT thing to do (according to everyone else), but you actually WANT to share in the joy (and maybe in the grief) of your pregnancy, do so.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">You don't officially become pregnant at 13 weeks. Pregnancy doesn't instantly turn safe at 13 weeks. So if you want to shout it from the rooftop -- or just come up with a really adorable, Pintrest-worthy social media announcement -- anytime before the 13-week mark, DO IT! </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">If you can't decide, then play it by ear. Or try your best to think of what you would want to do if you DID miscarry. Would you want to retreat to your life alone in case of a horrible tragedy? Or would you want meals, flowers, cards, and caring friends and family to surround you. (Albeit, there will always be people saying the wrong things. It does come at a small price.)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">The question here is not what's normal. It's, <span style="font-size: large;">What do YOU want?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e; font-size: x-large;"><b>3. Let it go. Let it go. (Can't hold it back anymore.)</b></span></span><br />
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(And if Frozen is now stuck in your head, sorry about that.)</span><br />
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If my pregnancy experiences have taught me anything, it's that there is so little I can control. </span><br />
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Now the things I CAN control, like diet, and well, um . . . diet . . . THAT I will control. But as for the rest, pregnancy and life can throw you some major curve balls.</span><br />
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The biggest reason I want to bring this up is because I want you to know that your pregnancy might not end in a baby you get to keep in your arms. Now, I know this information sucks. Trust me, I've lived it out and it sucks.</span><br />
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But if you are the 1 in 4 whose pregnancy ends in loss, I want you to know this one super huge mega big thing:</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT</b></span></div>
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It's not that you read 9 tips somewhere, did 8 of them and forgot to do #9. It's not the waterslide you went down before you knew you were pregnant. Or the one glass of wine you had. Or the deli meat you forgot to microwave that one time. </span><br />
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When my tube ruptured, and that baby we named Olivia died, I blamed myself. I thought that maybe I didn't drink enough water the day we had sex, and my tubes weren't slimy enough, and she got stuck and that's why she died.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />Trust me, when you are looking for answers, you'll find one . . . even if you have to make it up. Even if it makes YOU the one to blame. Lots of us bereaved women will blame ourselves unless our doctor can give us a really good reason not to.</span><br />
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But most of the time, doctors have to idea why it happens. And unless you've made it so far in your gestation, or unless you have recurring losses . . . they won't test.</span><br />
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So if you end up without a baby in your arms, please promise me: In your quest for answers, you won't blame yourself. You will know that you did everything YOU COULD CONTROL for this baby, and your baby knows it. She knows you did your best, and that you would do anything for her. </span><br />
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Loss is hard. But let go of any guilt a loss can cause.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">(By the way, this tip is for you even if your baby was born sick or with a disability, or you had pregnancy complications, or you had to have a cesarean or other interventions you didn't want. IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT!!!)</span><br />
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OK, now that we've addressed the big elephant in the room . . . let's move on.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">4. You're not the patient. You're the boss.</span></b></div>
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With Maddy, I visited L&D several times in my pregnancy. Once for what I thought was leaking amniotic fluid. (It was just pee. Eww. I know. Pregnancy can be gross.) Perfectly valid concern. They took me seriously, and I was wrong. But my concerns were alleviated, and I knew everything was OK.</span><br />
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The other times were for "braxton hicks" that were regular, intense and wouldn't go away. Each time I went in, I received shots of terbutaline, followed by 2 weeks of bedrest, and pills I had to take every 4 hours. This started at 28 weeks, and happened every so many weeks. In spite of all the contractions (that were EXACTLY the same as my labor contractions), I never dilated.</span><br />
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It was RIGHT to go in, as I could have dilated at any point. And after I was in labor, I realized I couldn't tell the difference between my braxton hicks and my labor contractions because there WAS NO DIFFERENCE. At least not in the way it felt to me anyway.</span><br />
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And then at 36 weeks, I went in again. Throwing up every few minutes. In so much pain, I can't sit still. And having those awful (not dilating) contractions.</span><br />
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This time, I never got to see my doctor. I was told I was dehydrated (even though I KNEW that I knew that I knew that I knew) that my hydration should have been fine. (If I was dehydrated, it was because it was 6 am, and I did not consume water while sleeping. But that should not have caused intense pain.) </span><br />
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My doula came to the hospital, but did not take me seriously. When I told her it hurt so badly that I wanted to die, she told me "Oh, hunny. This is just the beginning. It will get so much worse!" (Fast forward to tip #9 -- Hire the right birthing team.)</span><br />
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Ryan thought I was being a drama queen. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />Everyone thought I was crazy. Except me. I knew something was wrong.</span><br />
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They sent me home after filling me with bags full of fluid. Had they checked my blood, they would have noticed that they were sending a woman home who had a life-threatening condition called HELLP Syndrome. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />Because preeclampsia usually comes first, my HELLP was not caught. Because I was so concerned about being a good patient, and that maybe I really was crazy because I'm just a first-time mom . . . I didn't speak up.</span><br />
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Ya'll. I could have died. Maddy could have died. Seriously. Sending me home was the WORST thing they could have done.</span><br />
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In the end, we went back a few days later, I was correctly diagnosed, and everything went scarily fast. Maddy and I both lived. But I forever regret playing the patient that day, and not the boss. </span><br />
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You are the boss of your body. You know when something is not right. And you are the one paying the medical bills. So if you need that test, if you need to be seen, if you need some reassurance, if you need that second opinion, if you need to stay overnight to be sure -- you do that. </span><br />
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Repeat after me. "This is my body. This is my baby. I pay the bills. I'm not just a patient. I am the boss."</span><br />
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<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>5. Choose gratitude. Maybe not always, but often. </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">So far, I think we've covered that pregnancy really sucks sometimes.</span><br />
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Let's recap:</span><br />
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You pee on yourself. And then go to the doctor where he tell has to tell you you peed on yourself.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">You have massive contractions for months that accomplish NOTHING.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">You feel (and occasionally look) like a beached whale. (I love you. I'm just telling it like it is.)</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Your cute clothes don't fit.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">You throw up.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">And occasionally, pregnancy tries to kill you.</span><br />
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So I get that it's not all roses and rainbows.</span><br />
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But here's the deal. You have a beautiful baby -- half you, half your partner -- growing inside of you. And there are women all around the world who would pay any price, cut off limbs, and mortgage homes JUST TO BE a beached whale, throwing up, peeing herself and growing her own baby.</span><br />
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There are times you will need to vent. Find your safe, compassionate friends, and vent. (And just FYI, unless they offer, infertile or bereaved women are rarely the best people to vent to.)</span><br />
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But every day, spend some time in gratitude.</span><br />
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I complained for most of my pregnancy with Maddy. I didn't know at the time it was going to the be ONLY time I would feel like a beached whale. Or that I would feel kicks. Or that I would get baby showers. I didn't know she would be one of my greatest friends. If I knew then what I know now, I would have said thanks so much more. </span><br />
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Spend a few minutes every day recounting your blessings with this baby, and all that you are thankful for. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />I hear gratitude is the best medicine. (Or is that laughter?)</span><br />
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<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>6. Make YOU a priority. Not for the baby. But for YOU.</b></span></div>
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The other day, I took a shower. Normally, this daily practice of hygiene would not be considered a big deal. Never would it be considered selfish. And yet -- I was consumed with guilt.</span><br />
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My 1-year-old foster son had to be put in the pack-n-play, in front of the TV, while I took my 15-minute shower and did makeup, dress, and hair for the remaining 15 minutes.</span><br />
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Mind you -- he was perfectly content. But I was wracked with guilt for taking some time for ME that wasn't completely centered around my kids.</span><br />
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You see, this whole "die to self to save baby" thing starts right away. The moment you become pregnant, all the other pregnancy tip blogs are going to tell you what to change. For BABY. Don't eat this. Don't lay on your belly. Don't eat shellfish. Don't change your cats liter. Don't drink alcohol.</span><br />
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From the moment you suspect you're pregnant, you are already changing things for baby. While that desire to put baby first is good, you have to set some boundaries.</span><br />
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Some things, you just need to do for you. </span><br />
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You need a nap because YOU are tired. You need a haircut and style because it makes you feel prettier. And because you WANT one. You exercise because it releases your stress. You eat well because it also makes your body feel better.</span><br />
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Healthy you + baby = awesomeness.</span><br />
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Stressed out, unhappy, postpartum mom that sacrifices it all + baby = danger and despair. (And not-so-awesomness.)</span><br />
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So take time for you. Not because you're pregnant. Not because it's good for the baby. But because it's good for YOU! Trust me, this is a habit you need to start now.</span><br />
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<b><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">7. Like all journeys, this one comes with baggage.</span></b><br />
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We all have baggage in life. Things that trigger us, spark anxiety or depression, cause us to feel insufficient or not enough. </span><br />
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We carry this baggage along. And think that maybe if all the right stuff or the right people join us, we can get rid of it. Some people think having a baby will fix their baggage.</span><br />
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But trust me -- it doesn't. Sometimes it even CAUSES baggage.</span><br />
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Getting pregnant is not a cure for infertility. </span><br />
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Becoming a mom does not fix the pain of having a bad mother yourself.</span><br />
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Having a new baby does not replace a baby that died.</span><br />
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Instead, being pregnant and parenting your own child will trigger all sorts of baggage you might have. In between nesting, doing your baby registry, freezer-meal planning, and childbirth classes -- you really need to address some of the issues you have.</span><br />
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What in your marriage needs to be fixed?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">What do you need to resolve with your own parents?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">What part of your past do you need to make peace with?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Who do you need to sufficiently grieve?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">What expectations do you have that are not currently being met?</span><br />
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And keep in mind during pregnancy and after what kind of expectations you had for pregnancy, birth and baby. Was it all you dreamed of, or do you feel let down? Are you struggling with attachment or feeling bonded? Do you need more help from your partner, or friends or family?</span><br />
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Right now, your head space is where it's at. Keep it healthy. Employ a counselor if you need to. Pray and meditate (on God's word).</span><br />
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Pregnancy can be amazing. And a miracle. But it's not a cure for baggage.</span><br />
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<b><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">8. Take it a day at a time. And celebrate the baby steps.</span></b><br />
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Every day that I remained pregnant felt like a victory. I don't know why Maddy seemed to be in such a hurry to get out. But I remember feeling like I was literally fighting every day, every week, just to keep her in. </span><br />
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Every time I moved up a size in vegetables or fruit on the Babycenter app, the better I felt. </span><br />
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With our 3 miscarriages, I didn't know the outcome of those pregnancies. Every day I was pregnant was fraught with worry and fear. I had to force myself to say "I don't know what tomorrow will bring. But I know that today, I'm pregnant. Today, my baby is alive and growing. Today, I'm going to be as healthy as I can, and do everything possible to keep this baby here. Today, I'm grateful for today."</span><br />
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Your 9-month-long journey is made up of a lot of todays. A lot of little baby steps. </span><br />
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Today, your baby is growing and alive. Today, your body is doing everything it can for your baby. Today, you are one step closer to meeting your little person. Today, you are grateful it's today.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #45818e; font-size: x-large;"><b>9. Be informed.</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Be smart. Be informed. Just try not to be crazy. :)</span><br />
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I highly recommend reading up on pregnancy complications. Make sure your doctor is explicit on when she wants you to come in. Any time you are in doubt, call your nurse. If you still don't feel satisfied, make an appointment. If you need to, get a doppler so you can listen to your baby's heartbeat at home. </span><br />
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Make informed choices on your birthing team, home birth vs. hospital birth, vbac vs. repeat cesarean, If you choose a doula, make sure you are really comfortable with her. Same with your doctor or midwife. Change if you need to, even if it's late in the game.</span><br />
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Be prepared -- a little extra early. Births rarely come right on time, so have your bags packed and ready early. (Like, really early. When we gave birth to Maddy, I had no camera, change of clothes or contact solution. I gave birth over 3 weeks early -- and I was NOT ready. Remember really big tip: Do everything Rachel did not do!) </span><br />
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If you have concerns, bring them up to your doctor. If you have tests you want run, then request them. As much as you can, take charge of your health.</span><br />
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And in that light, I'm going to pass on a tidbit of info to help you be a little more prepared, from the American Recall Center: </span><br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One issue American Recall Center is currently raising awareness about is </span><a href="http://www.recallcenter.com/zofran-zuplenz/side-effects/" style="background-color: white; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zofran side effects</span></a><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> - this anti-nausea drug has been used ‘off-label’ to treat morning sickness, even though the FDA does not approve the drug for that application. As you’ll see on our site, the Zofran drug severely increases the risk for birth defects like cleft palate and heart defects.</span></span><br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">OK guys! That's it! I hope that these tips have helped you. Best of luck on your journey to baby!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>What are some of your favorite tips for a healthy pregnancy? </i></b></span></span>
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Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-58717505989750562112015-07-11T13:22:00.000-07:002015-07-13T14:08:54.794-07:00The baby I wanted to miscarryDear woman who Googled "how to make myself miscarry,"<br />
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I'm not sure if you know this, but my blog has this feature that lets me see how people find my blog.<br />
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Many of the search terms make sense:<br />
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Miscarriage at 20 weeks<br />
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Ectopic pregnancy<br />
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What to do if I miscarry<br />
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Baby loss blogs<br />
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etc.<br />
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Every once in a while, I get a search topic that makes me just stop in my tracks. Your search topic, for example. "How to make myself miscarry." It broke my heart.<br />
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I don't know how much of my blog you read or saw, but I want you to know that I too had an unplanned pregnancy. I too was horribly upset by it, and couldn't imagine my future with this child a part of it. I hated being pregnant, and wanted to miscarry.<br />
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I bet you probably didn't expect me to tell you this -- as I'm a baby-loss blogger -- but I want you to know, it's true.<br />
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I was at my wit's end, and wanted to end my pregnancy. My moral compass and beliefs since I was a child wouldn't actually allow me to do anything about it. So I just wished I would miscarry. I just wanted to be UN-pregnant.<br />
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It wasn't until I actually almost DID miscarry that I realized I actually wanted this baby. But even after the miscarriage threat had passed, my bond with my baby was tenuous at best. I still struggled with our bond even after the first year of her life.<br />
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All this, and I was a married woman. With support. (A lot of support actually.) With a job and enough finances (although it didn't feel like it at the time.)<br />
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If I felt the way I did when all the <i style="font-weight: bold;">circumstances</i> around the pregnancy were actually GOOD -- I can only imagine how you must be feeling now.<br />
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Maybe this baby wasn't planned. Maybe you were raped. Maybe you are a teen, just past a kid yourself. Maybe there's an affair involved. Maybe you have more kids than you feel you can care for. Maybe you are in a huge financial struggle. Maybe your partner is abusive.<br />
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Or maybe, you're just not ready. Not yet. Just like I was.<br />
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I don't know your circumstances, I don't know your despair, and I don't know your ending.<br />
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But I know mine.<br />
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Every fear I had about our baby was eventually laid to rest. The child I kept in my womb and gave birth to just graduated Kindergarten at the top of her class. She's a smart fireball, and I love teaching her all sorts of science, math and reading. We snuggle every night and read books together. We go to playgrounds, cook in the kitchen, and she is the sweetest little helper to my other children.<br />
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I want you to meet the baby I wanted to miscarry.<br />
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I don't tell you that I wanted to miscarry with pride. I tell it to you because you're where I was. And I know how hopeless, scared and out-of-control you might be feeling.</div>
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But I want you to know that if I had miscarried my daughter, I would likely not have had a chance to have another biological child. (I did end up losing my next 4 children in pregnancy to miscarriage and ectopic.) What I was so scared of turned out to be seriously one of the biggest blessings in my entire life.</div>
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And the next biggest blessing? Adopting a baby from a family who could not provide the safety or security she needed. </div>
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You may not have the circumstances I did. But I urge you to reconsider granting your unique child his or her life. If you just can't parent, I understand. There is no shame in that. But know that there are lots of moms and dads who would love love love to have a baby to support, nurture and love. </div>
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All is not lost my friend. There is hope. There is healing. And there is life to be had. Even if it doesn't feel like it.</div>
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Please reach out to me if you need some support, or someone to talk to. My email is renyeart@gmail.com.</div>
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Thanks for meeting the baby I wanted to miscarry. And I hope with all my heart, that one day, I might meet yours.</div>
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With deep love,</div>
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Rachel</div>
<br />Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-33123235457919572032015-06-30T00:27:00.001-07:002015-07-08T09:12:36.990-07:00What you deserve --- just because you're youI've been wrestling a monster for a very long time.<div><br></div><div>Over the years, I've given it various nicknames. Mostly because I never saw my monster face to face. The best I could do is guess what it was based on how it made me feel when we battled it out.</div><div><br></div><div>I have given it the name Anxiety. Depression. Anger. Frustration. Infertility. Grief.</div><div><br></div><div>I thought I had the right name for my monster. </div><div><br></div><div>I didn't. </div><div><br></div><div>You might wonder if names even matter. I get it ... And they do.</div><div><br></div><div>If I were fighting for my life against a real-life monster, it would be enormously helpful to know if I were trying to survive an attack by a 20-foot great white shark ... Or a grizzly bear. </div><div><br></div><div>Rolling over and pretending to be dead would do nothing to dissuade the shark. (And if it DID dissuade the shark, I'd likely still drown.) And bopping a grizzly on the nose would be as useless as just serving myself up on a platter for dinner.</div><div><br></div><div>And so, as it turns out, spiritual monsters also need names.</div><div><br></div><div>Thinking you are fighting discontentment when you are actually struggling with greed will not give you the tools and accountability you need to emerge the winner from the fight.</div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Unless I find out what I'm actually up against, I'm never going to overcome.</span></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOQ5dMHiRMwpD2QF_z9f_a1Gtk1LWMSATl9kS3xxSNUAc2ghqRP9xWMS7sUABCOWZcdEyLcZqI6GRtz1DXSj560iSQUkIUEfMgzEZMt0zIzRwYCa-hdiWEHI-Dg4-E2jWozHtaYeqgtFwR/s640/blogger-image--1824514911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOQ5dMHiRMwpD2QF_z9f_a1Gtk1LWMSATl9kS3xxSNUAc2ghqRP9xWMS7sUABCOWZcdEyLcZqI6GRtz1DXSj560iSQUkIUEfMgzEZMt0zIzRwYCa-hdiWEHI-Dg4-E2jWozHtaYeqgtFwR/s640/blogger-image--1824514911.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>In my Self-Care post, I mentioned that I'm reading the book "Anything" by Jennie Allen. </div><div><br></div><div>Toward the beginning of the book, she names a brutal monster many of us privileged American Christians face. What makes it so brutal is it's uncanny ability to blind us from what (Who) we really need. </div><div><br></div><div>It simultaneously tells us to take joy in what we have ... While robbing us of the sense of peace or contentment based on what we own.</div><div><br></div><div>While we are to be grateful for what we have, JOY should never be wrapped up in titles, vacations, stuff, achievements, or even other people.</div><div><br></div><div>Joy has to exist with or without all the "stuff" of life. And the monster of deceit who tries to convince us otherwise goes by the name Entitlement.</div><div><br></div><div>Now when Jennie named this monster, I was ready to tune out.</div><div><br></div><div>You see, I feel I've worked for everything I have. I went to school, and have been earning money in some capacity since I was 12.</div><div><br></div><div>When I got my driver's license (1 month before I turned 18), I only did so because I had enough money to pay for the license, gas and monthly insurance on the car.</div><div><br></div><div>In high school, I was responsible for buying my own clothes and makeup (which is pretty obvious from my pictures.)</div><div><br></div><div>I was always taught to give as much as you can, pay for your own way, and be responsible for YOU.</div><div><br></div><div>I truly didn't think entitlement was a monster I had even met, let alone wrestled with for years. After all, I worked for everything. Right?</div><div><br></div><div>But <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">as Jennie progressed through her discourse, I discovered that my monster who had been wrestling me and stealing my joy was none other than a sense of entitlement that <i>I deserve more ... Just because I'm me.</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Here's what my entitlement has looked like:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">I deserve to have a baby whenever I want. </i>(Because why exactly? Because I'm Rachel? Because I'm a <i>good </i>parent? Because I'm a decent-ish person? When did raising another human being become a reward for good behavior?)</span></div><div><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-weight: bold;"><br></i></div><div><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-weight: bold;">Why do I always have to give my babies back? (</i><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Newsflash: I don't. God has let me keep two of them, which is two more than some people get.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><i style="font-weight: bold;">I shouldn't have to give Z back because I love him like a son. </i>(My role as a foster parent comes with no legal claims. I might love him and care for him as my son, but God -- nor the State -- have any obligation to keep Z in our home.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><i style="font-weight: bold;">I've spent 7 years in my business. I should be making X amount each month, be driving X car, or earning X trip. </i>(The truth is, in my business you are paid on results. If I have not done the work to see the results, that is on me and no one else. No matter the time I have put in. If God is using this time to mold me into the leader and person He desires me to be FIRST, before the title and huge leadership come, that is His choice to make. It's rather my job to be faithful in the day-to-day in my business that He has called me to -- no matter the time frame or results.)</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><b><i>Anything about our house.</i></b></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">(Since we got pregnant with Maddy, we have lived in a rental home. It's a great little home, that meets all our needs. AND YET... It doesn't meet all my <i>wants. </i>I don't <i>want</i> a bathroom with steel trim, no bathtub and a floor that refuses to look clean no matter how much I mop it. I don't <i>want</i> white tile counter tops with white grout that is stained, and worn and has eroded so it is impossible to get it really clean. I don't <i>want</i> gold trim, white walls and a rock floor.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Somehow, I have believed the lie that I <i>deserve</i> to own a beautiful home, with a gorgeous interior and decor, in a safe neighborhood with good schools --and let's just add in a water view, just because.)</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">All of this I have felt I deserved ... No <i style="font-weight: bold;">believed with my whole heart that I deserved </i>... Just because I'm me.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju9AT8vIhtJWehjh9pfrHVsOac-wTY92W16IR7r1QPCzWOUIAY7w-WBx6m65vJ-0jBoo7cVLUBjNnMaAgWKm2ExJJIrZa4ZH3QOnZyRueUO2ALHpz3vCKvZry_IhoB1Fn9m6WtTOhtHPNU/s640/blogger-image--565858118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju9AT8vIhtJWehjh9pfrHVsOac-wTY92W16IR7r1QPCzWOUIAY7w-WBx6m65vJ-0jBoo7cVLUBjNnMaAgWKm2ExJJIrZa4ZH3QOnZyRueUO2ALHpz3vCKvZry_IhoB1Fn9m6WtTOhtHPNU/s640/blogger-image--565858118.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"> When I follow entitlement to its logical conclusions, that means other people must deserve war, sickness, poverty, lack of opportunity, children dying, cancers, divorce and death <b><i>... Just because they are who they are.</i></b></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><b><i><br></i></b></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><b><i>And if they are getting what they "deserve" ... Why should I reach out and help them in their distress?</i></b></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><b><i><br></i></b></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">When I turn entitlement on its head, only then do I see it's ugliness, it's raw banality. Only then do I see myself for the fool that I have been.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I have heard that gratitude is the best cure for entitlement. And I have tried wielding thankfulness like a sword, slashing carelessly at my monster with appreciation for more stuff.</font></div><div><br></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">"Thank you for this pen I'm using because it serves me when I need to write something down."</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">"Thank you for this shower because it serves me when I want to be clean."</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">"Thank you for this home because it serves me by protecting me and the people/things I care about."</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">See how it's still all about me?</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Gratitude is necessary. In fact, God calls us to it.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="text Col-2-6" style="box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><b>"</b>So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord,<span class="crossreference" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29501K" title="See cross-reference K">K</a>)" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29501K" style="box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; vertical-align: top; top: 0px;"></span> continue to live your lives in him,<b> </b></span><span id="en-NIV-29502" class="text Col-2-7" style="box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">rooted<span class="crossreference" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29502L" title="See cross-reference L">L</a>)" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29502L" style="box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; vertical-align: top; top: 0px;"></span> and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught,<span class="crossreference" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29502M" title="See cross-reference M">M</a>)" data-cr="#cen-NIV-29502M" style="box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; vertical-align: top; top: 0px;"></span> and overflowing with thankfulness." -- Colossians 2:6-7</span></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Gratitude is not wrong. It's right. But until I get rid of the "thanks for serving ME" mentality ... It's lacking.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">No gratitude is not enough. <i>Too often we still root it in stuff. Rather than rooting it in who God is.</i></font></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Submission, on the other hand, prepares our hearts for true gratitude and rids us of entitlement.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I live in this home because the God of the universe has provided me shelter and protection out of the goodness and generosity of his heart.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I have the children I do because God looked upon me with compassion, and graciously allowed me to keep (for now), these children.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I have infertility because God has sorted through the enemy's arrows, and has allowed this one to pierce my life. While I can't understand or see it at times, God will use this as an instrument of his glory. And in that, I give him thanks.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Gratitude, only when rooted in submission, can take our eyes from the stuff we want -- can take our joy in the things we <i>deserve</i> to have -- and place them on the true satisfaction of our souls: God Himself.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Entitlement: an ugly monster what tells us what we deserve because of who we are.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Submissive gratitude: a beautiful surrender to the will of God with thankfulness and joy -- regardless of the the circumstances, the titles you bear or the stuff you own --- all because of WHO He is.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmbi6Lto8ey-2Ze6Hznpm_KUex5JZHxND_FJ-GuFE6sv759Yke1n6BgSROhUHNvSYJ64Voz80HNEq3_FWnNqShn9DmX1gHBsCFxF_D6FcZ526eO1taU3OjU1oV9QV7j2GGhotHfMDiqe8/s640/blogger-image--328313166.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmbi6Lto8ey-2Ze6Hznpm_KUex5JZHxND_FJ-GuFE6sv759Yke1n6BgSROhUHNvSYJ64Voz80HNEq3_FWnNqShn9DmX1gHBsCFxF_D6FcZ526eO1taU3OjU1oV9QV7j2GGhotHfMDiqe8/s640/blogger-image--328313166.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div>Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-59217352776351118452015-06-21T18:25:00.000-07:002015-06-21T18:37:23.225-07:00To the unsung heroes of Father's Day<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpzRohPCyCPQqAPKPY19sl7833ycTrrYrt9nSLRCvZxU4SNd4yBOyB3Tk6RVyKQ2ynO83h0nIAzwyXmHp6bm7Pju3fgYwupfMbYcYbDye75weHrYx_0s3Ys3ttZShdKmqVYRoEiE0PBexl/s1600/DSC02146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpzRohPCyCPQqAPKPY19sl7833ycTrrYrt9nSLRCvZxU4SNd4yBOyB3Tk6RVyKQ2ynO83h0nIAzwyXmHp6bm7Pju3fgYwupfMbYcYbDye75weHrYx_0s3Ys3ttZShdKmqVYRoEiE0PBexl/s320/DSC02146.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #073763; font-size: x-large;">To the unsung heroes of Father's Day</span></div>
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I wonder if this is how pastors feel delivering a sermon for Mother's Day. <br />
<br />
After all, they aren't moms themselves. But they have to somehow encourage moms, and speak as though they get it.<br />
<br />
Likewise, I've never been a bereaved father.<br />
<br />
But I feel it's really important to tell you today, that you matter. And your sacrifice and grief aren't altogether unnoticed.<br />
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I know that time and time again, after the loss of your child, well-meaning friends and family came up to you wanting to know how your wife was. Never mind that you lost a child too. And in spite of the fact that your grief was just as real, just as overwhelming, you answered those friends and family. <br />
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In fact, you yourself were just as concerned about your wife. <br />
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Something in your family broke -- and you couldn't fix it. You try to fix everything in the house -- the budget, the lawn, the cars, the dishwasher. You take your job of providing stability and safety for your family very seriously.<br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-size: large;">But this -- this was something you could never fix. This was a tragedy you couldn't prevent. These were hearts you couldn't save from being broken -- and hearts you can't seem to mend.</span><br />
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And that perception of failure ... the helplessness as you watched your whole family grieve . . . undergirded everything. <br />
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You probably went to work too soon. There were now not only a house, food and cars to pay for, but funeral expenses and medical bills. Maybe your wife had to quit work. Or take unpaid maternity leave. Financially, things got way more complicated. In spite of your hidden tears, numb heart, anger or sadness . . . you went back to work anyway.<br />
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I know you pulled more weight around the house too. My husband did. Grief always left me exhausted, and I struggled to care. What did food matter? What did a clean house matter? My husband took on a large role of providing food (even if PB & J), and tidying the house more. He was "on" constantly. <br />
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That left little room for his tears. Or his feelings. His grief, as it turned out, wouldn't totally rear it's head until my grief had started to settle in a bit.<br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-size: large;">That's what you guys do. You put us bereaved moms first. And even take our comments and badgering that "you don't care" or "you don't seem to miss them or love them like we did!" You take accusations, and know it's not true. And then you keep pushing forward.</span><br />
<br />
I know that bereaved dads don't have the same social support moms have.<br />
<br />
We moms -- well, we can cry in public as much or as little as we need to without breaking any social norms. We get to attend support groups, be a part of bereaved mom's groups galore on Facebook, read tons of mommy blogs and books, and we even have our own International Bereaved Mother's Day. <br />
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You guys? Well, I hate to say it, but socially, you're a little screwed when it comes to pregnancy and child loss.<br />
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Most people don't think to ask how you are. Many of you don't want to talk about it, but even if you did -- who would you talk to? Support groups sound like they would just be full of weepy women, and not exactly your cup of tea. Or pint of beer. Or whatever. Just not for you.<br />
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It's not like guys enjoy sitting around talking about feelings. You have to DO something, like put an engine together, or climb a mountain, or kayak the river to get your emotions out. <br />
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And yet again, we bereaved mommas totally misinterpret your intentions. "Why are you running away?" "Could you just slow down?" "Can we please just talk things through?" And maybe most of all . . . "How are you <strong><em>FEELING?</em></strong>"<br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-size: large;">You are busy fighting for your family the only way you know how -- with less support than you deserve to have from all the rest of us. And I want to tell you, we see. We care. And we recognize the sacrifices you make for your family.</span><br />
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I didn't always see these things in my husband. I accused him at times of not caring about our babies. I begged him to come to a support group to no avail. I got all irked when he had "mental checkout time" in front of the computer or outside.<br />
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I wanted him to grieve like me. <br />
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But he didn't. And now I understand more why.<br />
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He needed to keep it together to make our family run while I was fallen apart. <br />
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He did that out of love and self-sacrifice. <br />
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He did that because he's a bereaved dad, but also because he's a husband. <br />
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So to all you bereaved fathers out there . . . I want you to know it's ok to NOT have a <em>happy</em> Father's Day. It's OK if today reminds you of the son or daughter you wish was making you breakfast today, or tossing a football outside, or going fly fishing with you later. <br />
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It's OK to grieve. And to do it in the way that makes sense to you.<br />
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So go ahead, climb a mountain today. Or play computer games. Or work on the car. Or whatever you have to do to be OK. <br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-size: x-large;">We'll hold down the fort here for you for awhile.</span>Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-77701117909959032502015-06-17T12:47:00.000-07:002015-06-17T12:47:07.799-07:00Self-Care (And Pursuit of Purpose)With the full expectation of Baby Z leaving our home after the summer, I've decided to make MYSELF a pretty big priority.<br />
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Not in the "I'm going to drink lots of coffee, eat lots of ice cream, and go shopping whenever I feel sad" kind of priority. But I'm choosing to make self-care a big priority, especially in a few key areas.<br />
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<b>Physical Fitness</b><br />
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You guys know that I recently started the 30-day Shred again from Jillian Michaels. The last few weeks I haven't been as consistent, but I'm exercising at least 3 times a week. I know that exercising is going to be key in feeling confident in my body, and releasing the endorphins I'm going to need. (My goal is to do 5-6 days of exercise each week -- but I keep reminding myself, progress not perfection.)<br />
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<b>Diet</b><br />
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I'm choosing to do Arbonne's 30-day Clean Eating Challenge this month as a part of my health challenge to myself. Gluten, dairy and sugar do nothing to help my mood or energy. If you want more info one what I'm doing, <a href="http://thelewisnote.blogspot.com/2014/01/detox-bootcamp-what-is-it-and-is-it.html" target="_blank">here's more about it.</a><br />
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<b>Emotional Health</b><br />
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Personal development is one of the biggest priorities I have to have right now. I don't want to lose the goals, momentum or personal health I've worked hard to attain. So that means 30 minutes of personal development each day is not optional. That my self-talk has to be spot on. And that tea dates with friends (and many of them) are going to be a must.<br />
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I'm also going to focus on fun. Getting time outdoors every day. Going on hikes with the family. Going to the park, playing in the sprinkler, spending quality time with Ryan. Making memories with Z for the time we can. And there is definitely going to be a girls' night in Seattle with my two girlfriends going salsa dancing at Century 21 Ballroom.<br />
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<b>Me and God</b><br />
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Lately (full confession here), I haven't been the Christian I want to be. I'm spending time on Facebook and not time with God. How can I expect to be fulfilled without Him? Last weekend, as my birthday approached, I spent some time in reflection and realized that this world DOES NOT SATISFY. It just doesn't. A nicer car, a home, a pretty wardrobe -- it's all so temporal and will not fulfill us. And as I've been chasing these things, it's pretty obvious to me that the journey is not taking me toward fulfillment, but toward desperation.<br />
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And so I'm starting an online Biblestudy through Jennie Allen, called "Anything." It's about surrendering to God, and discovering and fulfilling HIS purpose -- and letting go of our purposes for ourselves.<br />
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If you want to join me, here's a link to more info and to register:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/3Yk7SpLFr0Y/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3Yk7SpLFr0Y?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe><br />
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If we have enough interest, I'll start a Facebook group where we can go through some of it together and chat about what we are discovering about God's purposes.<br />
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<b>Financial</b><br />
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I know this sounds weird to include this, but I've discovered that if our finances feel out of control, then I feel out of control.<br />
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Ryan and I recently graduated from Financial Peace University. We're on track to get rid of all debt (mostly school loans), and save up for a home.<br />
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I'm also committing to take my business to the next level. Can I just be honest here? I'm not perfect, and at times, I've struggled with how my business has done over the last 4 years. As soon as I get some momentum going, we either lose a baby, or take one in. The last 6 months, I've been consistent in growing my business, but I've realized that I have put some self-limiting beliefs on what I can accomplish.<br />
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I don't want to survive this summer or Baby Z leaving -- I want to thrive. I want to show everyone that I have accomplished what I have told you I will accomplish for several years now. I'm recommitting to my goals.<br />
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I know that I will not do all of everything perfectly -- but I know that I'm going to be intentional, set goals, and create some accountability and mentorship in my life to help keep me on track.<br />
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<i>What do you do for self-care? And what kind of goals do you guys have this summer? </i><br />
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Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-43679748193377196082015-06-11T15:04:00.001-07:002015-06-11T15:39:47.494-07:00Court Update on Baby ZFor those who have checked in on me following court, thanks for caring. <br>
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In a strange twist, I have actually NOT felt like writing in any shape or form following court last week. It's very different to want to hide inside a shell and not let anyone in -- but that is exactly how I've been feeling.<br>
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In spite of that, I've decided write a quick update. Maybe because I'm emotionally drained reliving my court experience over and over again for those who have asked. (I don't mind that you asked, by the way. I appreciate the concern. I'm just feeling drained.)<br>
<br>
So for those who don't know . . .The plan is for Z to go home.<br>
<br>
At court, the biggest cause of concern for me was that, for whatever reason (and I hope it was a good one), our social worker did not come to court. The difficulty I had with this is that Baby Z is entirely dependent legally on people speaking up for him. The right people need to say the right things. I was quite concerned that the fill-in social worker would not do an adequate job, but she is someone I knew from Youth for Christ and she did well enough.<br>
<br>That however, did not help the state of my twisted-in-knots stomach for the hour in which we had to sit through others' cases, not knowing why our social worker was not there, or who would fill in for him. My prayer that God would be Z's voice and judge was even that much more urgent.<br>
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My parents and Ryan came to court. It was nice not to be alone.<br>
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At the judge's bench, bio mom asked if I was ok. Truthfully, I had just gotten over a flu, my stomach was empty and twisted, and the only thing running through my brain is "try not to cry. try not to cry. try not to cry."<br>
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(You should know that promptly after court my mantra failed me inextricably.)<br>
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I answered bio mom with a shrug of my shoulders. I didn't feel up for talking, though I did appreciate her show of concern.<br>
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In a nutshell, that was court.<br>
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I don't feel comfortable with the permanency plan, and I am making my reservations known in the appropriate ways. But foster parents really don't have much of a voice. I'm a tool the state uses to rehabilitate families.<br>
<br>As Deanna, Leyla's first foster mom says, the system is broken, and we as Christians get involved to bring as much light and as much Jesus as we can to it. Even still, the system is not perfect, and feeling voiceless is not easy.<br>
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At this point, we don't know the timeline for going home. But we are hoping to at least have him through the summer.<br>
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Here is where our little family could use support as we move forward.<br>
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For those of you who have been following along with our story, you know that Ryan and I just spent a year preventing pregnancy and trying to heal emotionally from our recurrent losses/infertility. Truth be told, the idea of handing Baby Z back is really bringing back some struggles and grief for me to that end. Pregnancy announcements are hard again. Triggers (while not yet as painful as they might be) are multiplying. I am trying to picture a life without Z in it, and it is very hard to imagine.<br>
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Please pray for Z as he has no words to voice his opinion on the matter. As he works through the hard feelings of leaving our home and going to a new home, pray that God would comfort him. A lot. Because I won't be there to help him through it.<br>
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Pray for safety for Z -- from hurtful people, from any abuse or neglect, from dangerous situations. Just pray a hedge of protection around him.<br>
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Please pray that if it's in Z's best interest, our family will still be allowed to visit Z or have some sort of relationship with him after he moves home. This will be entirely dependent on if bio mom WANTS us around. Pray for me as I work to have some sort of relationship with mom. As we balance the back and forth of parenting the same kid.<br>
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Pray for Madelyn and Leyla's hearts as they say good-bye to their brother. Pray for our extended family as they say goodbye to their grandson, nephew and cousin.<br>
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Pray that God just never lets go of that baby's heart. Just keep praying for God to chase him all through the years, through childhood and the teen years and as a young adult and on -- that God would never let go. And that Z would find God and have a relationship with him.<br>
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And pray for me please. Some days I'm doing really well. And when when you ask how I am, and I say good, then I usually mean it. Besides this going home deal, life is actually pretty good. I'm thankful for my family I have, and my business that is going really well. And then there are days like today that are just harder, for no real reason. It just kinda hits. I long to do grief differently this time. To make it through the other side without losing my business momentum, or happiness, or the balance in my heart I have worked so hard to create. So pray for protection for me too.<br>
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And I suppose it needs to be said that bio mom could use your prayers too. Having her children come home will be quite an adjustment, and she could use all the help she can get.<br>
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Love you all,<br>
<br>
RachelRachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-322422903827586462015-06-04T22:59:00.004-07:002015-06-04T22:59:39.876-07:00FrozenCourt is tomorrow. <br />
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It's the date we've had set in place for the last 6 months. Inching ever closer, feeling forever away . . . except it's here. It's caught up with us. The day the judge will likely decree that Baby Z goes home. <br />
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What can I say? I feel like we are all standing on train track watching a freight train come barreling toward us, and no one can move. I can't protect my baby. I'm not supposed to think of him as my baby. <br />
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Maybe this isn't what I am supposed to feel. Or say. Or think. Maybe my perspective is all wrong, and somehow I'm supposed to find joy in this. <br />
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I don't. <br />
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It's a freight train. That's what it is. Just a freight train. <br />
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I am scared and numb. And we're all frozen on the tracks.Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-24694161366420790082015-05-26T18:19:00.001-07:002015-05-26T18:19:25.559-07:00How I really feel about the Duggars -- and why<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Writer's note: I thought long and hard about whether to post the following blog. Have I met my purpose in writing by my first post about the Duggars? Will this be construed as getting on a soapbox, or attempting to drag a Christian family through the mud? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I normally write a post, and immediately publish. But this time, I took a day to really mull over the value of my words. Will they contribute to healthy discussion? Or has that ship already passed? In the end, because I have been asked several times the same questions, I'm going to go ahead and publish.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I understand that this might make me unpopular and you might vehemently disagree. All I ask is that if you choose to read, read all the way through. Ponder my thoughts. And if you have something to add in light of a healthy discussion -- I'm up for a good discussion.</i><br />
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<i>Thanks all. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Rachel</i><br />
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When I posted <a href="http://thelewisnote.blogspot.com/2015/05/its-not-sin-its-crime.html" target="_blank">my latest blog on the Duggars,</a> I was really surprised at some of the negative feedback I've received. It is strange to me because in only a few words I wrote what seemed to be common sense and not that controversial.<br />
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Yes, we are to love. Yes we are to forgive. Yes, we are to support the victims. Yes, we are to make sure that we call things for what they are. Yes, we should affirm natural or God-given consequences. And yes, we need to be uber aware that the way we respond in times like these is so very important for non-Christians who are watching us.</div>
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These points seemed pretty straightforward to me. But apparently, they are not so straightforward.</div>
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So I want to clarify a few things.</div>
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<b>1. The intent of my post was not to gossip.</b></div>
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So much of the controversy around anyone discussing the Duggars right now is that it is gossip. "We weren't there, so we can't voice an opinion." This to me sounds like "let's just stick our head in the sand this time and pretend that nothing happened."<br />
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Can I just be really straightforward here? Most of us are not immediately present when something newsworthy happens. Have any of you been in Iraq lately? Where you in Boston when the bomber placed deadly backpack near kids, adults and runners? What about when Casey Anthony's daughter died? We rely on the media all the time. We <i>trust</i> the information that comes from the media often (admittedly not always.) We rely on police investigations to find truth for us.<br />
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And most of the time, we discuss them.<br />
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YES. Gossip is talking about someone's personal business. Intimate details that should be private. </div>
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You might not like my response to this, but here you go.</div>
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<b>I would not have chosen for this scandal to be so public. (I would also not chose for it to be a secret. I think the authorities should have known right away, and that the church body should have been informed right away.)</b><br />
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I'm not convinced that the mass publicity of this abuse in the best interest of the victims. I imagine that whatever self-consciousness these girls already had is now so much worse. To have everyone looking at you, and wondering if YOU were the one the one fondled, the one with a secret.<br />
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Honestly, I can't imagine how they are feeling right now. I can't. I understand the concept of triggers. And I'm sure that everywhere right now is a trigger for them.<br />
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But I didn't CHOOSE this publicity for them.<br />
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<b><i>Their parents did.</i></b><br />
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I feel confident that Jim Bob and Michelle really felt that making a reality TV show was the right thing to do -- to be a testimony for God.<br />
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But they chose this knowing the skeletons they had in the closet. And we all know skeletons have a way of making themselves known. Especially when so many people in the world can't stand what you stand for, and you have a very public platform for. The world is looking for a reason to discredit them. And guess what? They found it.<br />
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I am not saying that this family does not deserve to have some privacy. But what I am saying is that they chose to be in the public eye, they chose to make themselves an example of healthy, pure sexuality, and they did this knowing the position it had the potential to put their daughters in.<br />
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My post was not about furthering gossip. To speculate, to slander, to draw false conclusions. The purpose of my post is to say this:<br />
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<b>Christians: The Duggars have given the world an example of how sexual abuse is handled so often in the church. TOO often. We are in the hotseat, yet again, for mishandling allegations of sexual abuse. We have a responsibility to the victims to label sexual abuse for what it is. We have a responsibility to allow the consequences of these actions to fall where they should. We have an obligation as Christians to pray, to support, to love, and to forgive. But in a way that AFFIRMS the real suffering of the victims. Not sweeping it under the rug of a cheap and easy forgiveness.</b><br />
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I understand not wanting to talk about this. I do. But the world is talking, and they are watching, and they are wondering if we Christians are OK with the way this was handled. And we shouldn't be OK with it. And I think that is OK to say. Actually, I think it is RIGHT to say.<br />
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The way the Duggars and their church leaders handled the allegations of sexual abuse was not legal nor was it in the best interest of Josh or the victims.<br />
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There. I said it.<br />
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<b>2. A crime is not worse than a sin. But it is <i>different.</i></b><br />
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A few of you questioned whether I have a full appreciation for the gravity of sin. Trust me, I do.<br />
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However, there are somethings that are sin -- but they are also something <i>more</i>.<br />
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If Josh had simply had consensual sex with another teen, it would also have been sin. They would have gone against God's plans for their lives.<br />
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But that was not what happened here. God's laws were broken. Man's laws were broken. And children were victimized.<br />
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Calling a lie a <i>sin</i>, premarital sex a <i>sin</i>, and incestuous child molestation a <i>sin</i> can appear to place them all in the same boat. With the same gravity.<br />
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I get that all sin, no matter what, comes between us and God. In that way, it is equal.<br />
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But telling a white lie that you were on time (when you were really 15 minutes late) -- and sexually victimizing multiple children over a long period of time -- do not require the same consequences. There are natural consequences that really SHOULD happen in one case over the other.<br />
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That is why we need to call it a crime. And not <i>just </i>a sin. Because it is both. And because the consequences for a white-lie-kind-of sin is not the same as for a felony-kind-of sin.<br />
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<b>3. "He who casts the first stone . . . "</b><br />
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Jesus has told us not to judge. It's true. When the adulteress woman was about to be stoned, he intervened in a crazy, shocking way. He turned religious fundamentalists away from quite literally ruining this sinner of a pagan woman.<br />
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And yet, if you dig through Scripture, that same principle he applied to non-Christians, he did NOT apply to us in the church.<br />
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Here is 1 Corinthians 5:1-12 (<i>NIV</i>):<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: center; text-indent: 25px;">
<span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-1.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;"><b>1</b></a></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;">It is actually reported that there is sexual immorality among you, and of a kind that even pagans do not tolerate: A man is sleeping with his father’s wife. </span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-2.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;"><b>2</b></a></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;">And you are proud! Shouldn’t you rather have gone into mourning and have put out of your fellowship the man who has been doing this? </span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-3.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;"><b>3</b></a></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;">For my part, even though I am not physically present, I am with you in spirit. As one who is present with you in this way, I have already passed judgment in the name of our Lord Jesus on the one who has been doing this. </span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-4.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;"><b>4</b></a></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;">So when you are assembled and I am with you in spirit, and the power of our Lord Jesus is present, </span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-5.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;"><b>5</b></a></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;">hand this man over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh,</span><span class="nivfootnote" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #0066aa; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 1px;"><sup><a href="http://biblehub.com/niv/1_corinthians/5.htm#footnotes" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;" title="In contexts like this, the Greek word for flesh (sarx) refers to the sinful state of human beings, often presented as a power in opposition to the Spirit.">a</a></sup></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;"> </span><span class="nivfootnote" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #0066aa; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 1px;"><sup><a href="http://biblehub.com/niv/1_corinthians/5.htm#footnotes" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;" title="Or of his body">b</a></sup></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;"> so that his spirit may be saved on the day of the Lord.</span><br />
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<span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-6.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;"><b>6</b></a></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;">Your boasting is not good. Don’t you know that a little yeast leavens the whole batch of dough? </span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-7.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;"><b>7</b></a></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;">Get rid of the old yeast, so that you may be a new unleavened batch—as you really are. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed. </span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-8.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;"><b>8</b></a></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;">Therefore let us keep the Festival, not with the old bread leavened with malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.</span><br />
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<span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><br /></span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><br /></span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><b style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-9.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;">9</a></b></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;">I wrote to you in my letter not to associate with sexually immoral people— </span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-10.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;"><b>10</b></a></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;">not at all meaning the people of this world who are immoral, or the greedy and swindlers, or idolaters. In that case you would have to leave this world. </span><span class="reftext" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-11.htm" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;"><b>11</b></a></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;">But now I am writing to you that you must not associate with anyone who claims to be a brother or sister</span><span class="nivfootnote" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #0066aa; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 1px;"><sup><a href="http://biblehub.com/niv/1_corinthians/5.htm#footnotes" style="color: #0092f2; text-decoration: none;" title="The Greek word for brother or sister (adelphos) refers here to a believer, whether man or woman, as part of God's family; also in 8:11, 13.">c</a></sup></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320;"> but is sexually immoral or greedy, an idolater or slanderer, a drunkard or swindler. Do not even eat with such people.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><br /><span class="reftext" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-12.htm" style="text-decoration: none;"><b>12</b></a></span>What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church? Are you not to judge those inside? <span class="reftext" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 2px; vertical-align: text-top;"><a href="http://biblehub.com/1_corinthians/5-13.htm" style="text-decoration: none;"><b>13</b></a></span>God will judge those outside. “Expel the wicked person from among you.”<span class="nivfootnote" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 1px;"><sup><a href="http://biblehub.com/niv/1_corinthians/5.htm#footnotes" style="text-decoration: none;" title="Deut. 13:5; 17:7; 19:19; 21:21; 22:21,24; 24:7">d</a></sup></span></span></blockquote>
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God makes it plain that while we personally are not to judge those outside the church -- we are <i>encouraged, allowed, </i>(and dare I say it?) <i>commanded </i>to call our brothers and sisters out when they have blatantly sinned.<br />
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I understand that the sexual abuse is no longer happening. And that this verse is talking about people who are actively involved in sin (incest of all things), but are still attending church and under the guise of being pious.<br />
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However, the Duggars have not actually said that they way they responded was wrong. They regret that it happened. (We all do.) But there doesn't seem to be any indication that they regret their actions following the abuse.<br />
<br />
I'm not going to get into a huge discourse on on church discipline here. But what I will say is this:<br />
<br />
The clergy in the church were mandatory reporters. [I'm a mandatory reporter. It means that when we see or understand that a child is potentially in danger of abuse or neglect, we (by law) are required to call CPS. This does not mean that we have to have proof. But a reasonable belief. And yes, I've had to make that call. And YES, I know it is so so hard. But it has to be done.]<br />
<br />
The Duggars' church failed them. They did not report to authorities. They failed the other families attending by not disclosing that there was a boy who might have exposure to their children with a history of child sexual abuse. They failed the reputation of the Christian church as a whole.<br />
<br />
The Duggars themselves failed their children. (yes, I am saying this. Yes, I understand that in so many ways, we all fail our children). But as parents, our legal, moral and spiritual duty is to protect our children from reasonable harm. The girls' right to be protected needed to trump Josh's right to privacy. That did not happen.<br />
<br />
<i>When we as brothers and sisters in Christ rush to forgive without affirming the gravity of the sin, to offer only support to those who have failed in a pretty big way, to rush past any criticism of others' actions for fear of being judgmental . . . we are also failing as a church.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
We are failing the victims who have a right to have their suffering affirmed, and not discarded. We fail the outside world when we claim Christians should not have to endure any natural consequences of their actions just because they have repented and have been forgiven. We fail ourselves when we refuse to take a good hard look at how abuse is often handled in the church, and we don't call for reform.<br />
<i><br /></i>
So yeah, talking about it? It matters. Because only when we are being honest with ourselves about what happened versus what should have happened can we make the changes needed to make sure this sort of abuse/neglect doesn't happen again.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>4. So what kind of accountability am I expecting?</b><br />
<br />
Simply this. If the victims chose to press charges, and there were no statute of limitations, I would be in support. Not because I long to see Josh or his family suffer. Not at all. I know they have suffered immensely. But because I support legal jurisdiction, and the right of a victim to come forward and ask for justice for the crime committed against them.<br />
<br />
I will not be signing any petition to get this show back on television. Josh losing his job, and the Duggars losing their show for now seems to be natural consequences enough. And I think Jim, Michelle, and Josh are all adult enough to deal with it. Furthermore, I believe that if God still desires to give the Duggars a platform, he will do it.<br />
<br />
In fact, I'm hopeful that there is some redemption to all of this mess.<br />
<br />
<b>5. There is one more thing I just feel like I need to say. </b><br />
<br />
<br />
My heart has been and continues to be for the girls who were exposed to sexuality against their will and far too young.<br />
<br />
I have never been sexually abused. I'm grateful for that every day. But I have a 6-year-old and a 3-year-old who I pray will be able to make it through this life without that particular pain.<br />
<br />
I have watched the crippling effect childhood sexual abuse has had on some of my friends. I could not wish that on anyone. In fact, I became a foster parent in large part to do what I could to protect children from this kind of abuse. My heart deeply, deeply grieves for those who have been forced to endure this kind of horror.<br />
<br />
To the Duggar girls (or for any other victims of abuse), I want to say this:<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">What you have endured as a child . . . and what you are enduring now as this story is made public . . . grieves me, grieves those who love you, and grieves the heart of God. If I could, I would take this all away, and I would write you a new story. But I can't. </span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-size: large;">I hope that in spite of the publicity, you are able to have any healthy counseling or resources you might need today or in the future. I hope that the church becomes a healthy, safe place for you. A place where you can unburden your secret, and know that you will be believed. That you will be offered protection. Offered very real support. That your church body will be able to love you just as Christ would. </span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i>
<i>This cannot be easy for you. To have been abused by the ones you loved. The ones you LOVE. So please know that we are praying for you. We are praying for your families. And we are praying for God's comfort and healing presence in your life. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i>
<i>And while we can't write you a new story -- we are doing everything we can to prevent what happened to you to happen to another girl. And if we can't prevent it, we'll do our very best to help support her as she heals.</i></span><br />
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Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-42551356407541848112015-05-23T18:04:00.002-07:002015-05-26T18:21:21.417-07:00It's not a sin. It's a crime. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hey Christians. Here's the deal.<br />
<br />
I was going to keep quiet. I wanted to keep quiet. I was going to let this one just slide by, and let all the other news sites, bloggers, media junkies, and joe shmoes write about it.<br />
<br />
But the thing is. I can't.<br />
<br />
Because I keep reading about it. And because one thing keeps popping up, and I've got to tell you. It's driving me crazy.<br />
<br />
When an act not only defies God's laws, but man's laws -- it is not a sin problem. <b>It is a crime.</b><br />
<br />
When an act strips children who have no voice of their innocence, it is not a matter of getting someone's heart right before God. <b>It's about true rehabilitation. </b><br />
<br />
When a parent knowingly allows innocent children to be alone with a sex offender, it is not a "hard decision." <b>It is straight irresponsibility.</b><br />
<br />
I may not be a total Duggar lover, but I'm a supporter of them as fellow Christians. And I'm not trying to make light of what they had to deal with. I can only imagine how hard it was to hear that their son was up to that. And I can only imagine the pain they are feeling now.<br />
<br />
But as Christians, please understand that we can love them, we can support them, and we can forgive them -- but making EXCUSES for any of their behavior is absolutely unacceptable.<br />
<br />
Please know that when we say "God has forgiven" and "who are we to care what was done 15 years ago?" and "he was only a child" or "they did their best" . . . that to the rest of the world, we look like spiritual pansies.<br />
<br />
And worse, we look like <i>enablers.</i><br />
<br />
So let's stop talking about his "sin." Let's stop petitioning to get their show back on. Let their family deal with the consequences of their actions (and in-actions as it may be.) Pray for them -- but for the love of all things holy, please pray the most for the victims.<br />
<br />
Because the WAY we respond as Christians matters.<br />
<br />
Let's love. But let's also stand for accountability.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For a more in-depth explanation of my position on this, here's my next post: <a href="http://thelewisnote.blogspot.com/2015/05/its-not-sin-its-crime.html" target="_blank">How I really feel about the Duggars -- and why. </a>Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-8778577549640795462015-05-18T00:47:00.001-07:002015-05-18T00:52:50.334-07:00Christ did not die for me. Here's why...<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHJsInykJWq8o09Dh8ee5AqsmFbpUPsy4iZPAazmUxotfuKeg-bcshg-vODqtkdjhcRtZ6ko-TNwZO2gkI7iQkHyxJHbuwbsnf53cfoZME05zfdbMXShtxj2IRIw5Nu3fLU3ziCdl1aQmP/s640/blogger-image--887303511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHJsInykJWq8o09Dh8ee5AqsmFbpUPsy4iZPAazmUxotfuKeg-bcshg-vODqtkdjhcRtZ6ko-TNwZO2gkI7iQkHyxJHbuwbsnf53cfoZME05zfdbMXShtxj2IRIw5Nu3fLU3ziCdl1aQmP/s640/blogger-image--887303511.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div>I <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">pulled up to a stoplight near our home, the first car in a long line of traffic. It is a busy intersection, hemmed in by a 7-11, Starbucks, Wal-Greens and a supplement store (which in spite of seeing it every day for 6 years, I can't remember the name.)</span><div><br></div><div>While Spirit 105.3 played over the radio, a <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">homeless man crossed slowly in front of me.</span></div><div><br></div><div>His grayish white beard hung limply to his mid-chest. This thin frail arms showed weathered, leathered looking skin. On one foot was a gray sneaker. The other foot -- a mismatched white one. </div><div><br></div><div>He was tall, thin and old looking.</div><div><br></div><div>Too old, I thought. I wondered what a clean shave, some nice clothes, and some meat on his bones would do for him. I wondered what happened in his life that his is now gimping along the white-striped road in front of me, with mismatched dirty clothes and averted eyes.</div><div><br></div><div>He made his trek to 7-11, then I lost sight of him.</div><div><br></div><div>I briefly thought of stopping to buy him some food, but then I remembered I had kids in the car. Sometimes I let fear that something might happen to my kids prevent me from doing what I would otherwise do. </div><div><br></div><div>As I watched him, I became painfully aware of my own comfort. My expensive mini-computer (which I call a phone) sitting by my lap. My minivan that comes with AC, heat, leather seats and butt-warmers. My cute, washed (but of course not ironed) clothes. The expensive products prettying my face. </div><div><br></div><div>And even more painfully, I became aware of something I had that he likely didn't.</div><div><br></div><div>Hope. This man needed hope. </div><div><br></div><div>I was rich in hope. He was starved.</div><div><br></div><div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The radio blared on, and a phrase interrupted my stream-of-conscious thinking with a truth I have heard throughout my life:</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Christ died for me.</span></div></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Most days, I wouldn't have payed much attention. I've heard it a million times. But not today. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Because watching a man with no hope opened my eyes to a horrible lie I have believed: </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If Christ died <i>for me, </i>and I am saved, then that's it. His mission is complete. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am saved, I've been redeemed, and I'm darn comfortable, thank-you-very-much. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> We could just get this earth thing over with, head on to heaven and everything will be fine and dandy. </span></div><div><br></div><div>But did Christ really die for me?</div><div><br></div><div>So often, we Christians tell others that if they were the only person on this earth ... Christ would have died for them.</div><div><br></div><div>I think that approach comes innocently enough. We want everyone to know the value they specifically hold in God's eyes.</div><div><br></div><div>But the danger comes when we internalize this. And really, finding out that the creator of the universe cares so much about us as individuals really kinda goes to our heads. Or at least it goes to mine.</div><div><br></div><div>All of the sudden, my personal wellbeing has just skyrocketed in importance.</div><div><br></div><div>But can we also be honest about what is equally true? If we had never been born, Christ would still have would have died.</div><div><br></div><div>Because there are others. </div><div><br></div><div>Because scripture says, God so loved the world, that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.</div><div><br></div><div>Get that? <i>Whoever. </i>(Not just me.)<i> The whole WORLD. </i>(Again, not me.)</div><div><br></div><div>Christ did not die for me. He died for the world. </div><div><br></div><div>He came for the homeless man I should have fed and should have told about Jesus. He came for the neighbors I choose not to meet. He came for the families in Nepal, who I haven't been praying for. </div><div><br></div><div>He came <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">for the hurting and the broken and the proud and the wealthy and the sick and the wise and the foreigners and the intellectuals and the kids and the old people and the gays and the straights.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">His heartbeat is not for Rachel. His heartbeat is for the world.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And it's about darn time my heartbeat starts echoing his.</span></div>Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-86016198953200287802015-05-16T01:16:00.001-07:002015-05-16T09:06:59.321-07:00Learning the dance of letting go<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCU8To6GN9Ja6mwlIJnNGX5Yg-DPObM6NBSuWHMbRmRz8CkKkYm6Ykf0hwmXo7RTeNCPwUvjK-7m9objDp-k1tNHKMTc73u0F_p62oaPxR2wDc_tgd5Zl-C9kPWmG1uSL3kAjlkA680xpI/s640/blogger-image-400882299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCU8To6GN9Ja6mwlIJnNGX5Yg-DPObM6NBSuWHMbRmRz8CkKkYm6Ykf0hwmXo7RTeNCPwUvjK-7m9objDp-k1tNHKMTc73u0F_p62oaPxR2wDc_tgd5Zl-C9kPWmG1uSL3kAjlkA680xpI/s640/blogger-image-400882299.jpg"></a></div></span></div><div><br></div>I am loving, parenting, mothering a phantom baby.<div><br></div><div>He is here now. His contagious laughs, frequent night waking, boy toys, and daily Tupperware-cupboard emptying all make his presence known. </div><div><br></div><div>But it does not look as though he will stay.</div><div><br></div><div>I know that time will pass as quickly as it does when you really just want it to slow down. Or maybe even stop for awhile.</div><div><br></div><div>And time will take with it this child who I have learned to love as a son. </div><div><br></div><div>It will be too soon that the social workers will come, and it will be our final goodbye. Just writing this my tears stream, and I try not to ugly-cry. (Not working.)</div><div><br></div><div>I believe it is a simple matter of time before the emptiness of him gone will settle into every crevice of our household. Settle into every heart that has fallen for this baby.</div><div><br></div><div>His bath towel will be here, unused. His dresser, empty. The trucks and trains we've collected will only be remembered by the photos we'll have of him playing. His high chair cleaned, folded and stored in the garage. His car seat taken out of the car, and stored right along with his high chair.</div><div><br></div><div>I feel the need to keep up appearances. To be stoic, and martyr-y, and tell you it is worth it. To act like a saint by bottling up feelings. Because I still believe in foster parenting. And I still believe that more of you guys should seriously consider it.</div><div><br></div><div>But I am no saint, and I have a feeling I would make a terrible martyr. Yet my hope is still that as we complete our time with Z ... No matter how messy or beautiful that time will be ... You might still consider opening your home and hearts.</div><div><br></div><div>I will get through this. I'm a big girl. But I can't help but fear that the separation will be too hard on Z. Even<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> though I know it is poison, my heart drinks in all the worries of the what-ifs. I long to protect Z from the heartache of good-bye. I know it is coming ... But he is still in his happy little world, with no idea of the changes that lay ahead.</span></div><div><br></div><div>We didn't take Baby Z in with the intent of having a forever son ... But I have a forever-mama heart for him. No matter where he lives, he'll be my son in my heart.</div><div><br></div><div>And now I just need to learn this new dance. Of letting go, watching my children's hearts break for a time, trusting God with Z and of blessing new mom. (Or old mom, as I guess she is.)</div><div><br></div><div>It's a dance I must master. But I am an unwilling student at times. God has to keep leading me back here to the dance floor, telling me to trust Him.</div><div><br></div><div>Some of you will say, "there is hope! Court is still a few weeks away."</div><div><br></div><div>But I don't feel the right to hope that he stays. To hope that he stays means hoping that Z's mom will fail, and that Z will be separated from his bio siblings.</div><div><br></div><div>I <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">am loving, parenting, mothering a phantom baby.</span></div><div><br></div><div>He is here today. Gone tomorrow.</div><div><br></div><div>Somehow, I need to learn to be OK with a future that may not ever have my baby Z in it again.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTq-kcdLkC9XPWSMihUD5xLd9SCIBUlDM3rjFKoZHZOdazofouOT3rcKzyW1R_fXtjg1Et_JXp3-zOMlva1522_YzMCISyt_U3y1_-ZNWUdDs1b5msEtiWz0QegWzvQrH7JKwMkqg-cft/s640/blogger-image--337099945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTq-kcdLkC9XPWSMihUD5xLd9SCIBUlDM3rjFKoZHZOdazofouOT3rcKzyW1R_fXtjg1Et_JXp3-zOMlva1522_YzMCISyt_U3y1_-ZNWUdDs1b5msEtiWz0QegWzvQrH7JKwMkqg-cft/s640/blogger-image--337099945.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This is Z's favorite way to ride in the car ... Holding mama's hand.</div><br></div>** as you know, there are many details of Z's case that I cannot share. However, I have every reason to believe that reunification will happen, unless something drastic changes. At this point, that timeline could be anywhere from June through fall. </div><div><br></div><div>Please pray for the social workers making recommendations, the judge's fair and clear thinking, for bio mom to be able to raise him well, for Z as he walks through this without any words to express how he feels, and our family as we let go and mend our hearts.</div><div><br></div>Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-44730985563548711612015-05-12T13:05:00.001-07:002015-05-12T13:05:05.401-07:00Project Get 'er Done!Truth:<br />
<br />
My body does not act or look like what I want it to.<br />
<br />
Fiction:<br />
<br />
Since Z moved in (sweet baby), I've kicked my exercise habit to the curb. I believed the lie that I couldn't have a rockstar bod with 3 babies. And I'm not talking skinny -- I'm talking about a body that is strong and is capable. That's rockstar to me.<br />
<br />
Truth:<br />
<br />
I'm ready to get my exercise back in shape. I know it's important for my own self-confidence, for my endorphins, and I need to do this BEFORE Z leaves and I'm too sad to do it.<br />
<br />
So project Get 'er Done starts now!<br />
<br />
I'll be doing the 30-day shred with Jillian Michael's. Let me know if you want to join me!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/251161551759407/" target="_blank">Join my exercise accountability group on FB here.</a><br />
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<br />Rachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6922698531353636335.post-86312701021921301582015-05-10T12:28:00.001-07:002015-05-10T12:28:29.447-07:00A heart suspended <br />
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My beautiful friend Bethany, and her momma,</div>
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after the delivery of her stillborn baby Mya.</div>
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This photo says it all.</div>
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Birds chirp outside on this beautiful Sunday morning. I am sipping my sugared espresso my husband crafted for me, with foamed up half and half (and a scoop of hand-whipped cream for good measure.) Katie Rusby is playing on Pandora, her country-Irish style gently filling the spaces in our home.<br />
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I awoke this morning to my 6-year-old kissing me and telling me Happy Mother's Day.<br />
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My other kids were apparently with my husband. He got up and took them all to the store to get everything to make me pancakes. Breakfast was complete with strawberries & cream, and a bouquet of flowers. The children are all playing in Maddy's room -- their laughter every so often replaced by screams or cries. But mostly laughter.<br />
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This has all the perfect makings of a perfect Mother's Day.<br />
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And yet part of my heart is just suspended. <br />
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It wants to relish, to celebrate, to feel loved and be loved. It wants to rest in the moment of a peaceful, messy-ish home, cluttered from the makings of children's hands and pattering feet. It longs to say that all is right in this world.<br />
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But half of my heart feels taken up today in sadness. <br />
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It is part longing for my children I didn't get to meet. <br />
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It is part longing for heaven.<br />
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It is in part with my friend Bethany -- whose daughter Mya was stillborn 3 years ago. Beautiful baby girl, who brought so much joy to her parents. Since Mya, there have been no other children. No one to mother, but a mother she is.<br />
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It is holding its breath for my friend K. Her unborn baby has a fatal diagnosis. Her life is caught up in an unfair limbo -- life and death, carried in her womb together. There is not one without the other. How must she be feeling today?<br />
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It is far away with a mom I haven't met. Whose 3-month-old died from SIDS, after several pregnancy losses. Linnea and Bridget -- I'm thinking of you today and wishing with all my heart God provides comfort.<br />
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It is with Cat, who is celebrating her second Mother's Day without Preston.<br />
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It is with Lindsay, Jasmine, Katherine, Brittany, Brittany, Alex, Kristin, Emily, Jeanne, Summer, Meredith, Amanda, Deanna, Molly, Crystal, Brittany C, Melanie, Joanna, Christine, Laura, Hollie, Cara, Tiffany, Kristin, Stacy, Sarah, Carly, Becky, Hannah, Jeni, Kelly, Melissa, Syndi, Abby, Nancy, Hope, Elizabeth, Emily, Kristen, Sara, Jenny, Sarah, Janice, Anna, Jennifer, Rochelle, Stephanie, Danielle, Jessica, Camlyn, Courtney, Jennene, Brittney, Jenny, Cheryl, Amanda, Karen, Kimberly, Tiffany, Cherie, Terrin, Bethany, Sheryle, Susan, Lindsey, Melissa, Kendra, Emily, Jill, Del, Amanda, Paula, Carilla, Theresa, Holly, Lindsey, Brandy, Sara, Elizabeth, Cally, Cheryl, Erica, Rebekah, Jessica, Kristi, Lisa, Beatrice, Andrea, Stevie, Kendra, Beckie, Lael, Bridget, Heather, Palei, Beth, Becky, Isablel, Rochelle, Julie, and Deborah . . . .<br />
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All of whom have their own stories to tell of much-wanted, much-loved children who went to heaven.<br />
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It is with Leyla's bio mom -- wherever in the world she is. Wondering if she misses Leyla today. Wondering if she is alive and OK.<br />
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It is with Z's bio mom -- wondering if she has room in her heart today to miss and love Z, now that she has a new baby to love on.<br />
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It is with my friends who want to have a family, but are single.<br />
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It is with my friends who have had abortions, but keep their motherhood a secret.<br />
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It is with my own parents who are missing their moms today. Grandma Fulner & Grandma Enyeart -- we all love you and miss you so much.<br />
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It is with the dads out there who are missing their wives on this day.<br />
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It is with Becky, and my other single mom friends, who do so very much to mother their children.<br />
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It is with the women who I love so dearly, and wish I could give them babies -- but are childless for now.<br />
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It is with the moms who have no living children.<br />
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It is with my friends who no longer have a relationship with their moms.<br />
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It is with my friends, like Ashton, who are mothers to waiting children overseas. The adoption process can't get over fast enough.<br />
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On this day, I do not forget that I am blessed. I've been given the gift of mothering 3 on earth, 4 in heaven, for however long God sees fit. I also do not forget the pain of Mother's Days past. I do not forget the pain of my friends above.<br />
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To all of you, whether you got roses and strawberries and cream -- or no one acknowledged you as a mom today -- I hope that in your heart you find love, find comfort, find some measure of joy. I hope that today is more than a day of pain, but a day to find some happy memories of the children we have been blessed to know -- no matter how long. I hope that there is some healing and restoration today.<br />
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I wish you all a very gentle Mother's Day.<br />
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Love, RachelRachel Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06652608705204867306noreply@blogger.com3