Remember last week's entry about Ornery Gabe & a Baby Named Hope (or some such title)? Well... just wanted to let everyone know that, round about Monday, Hope turned a corner and has been making improvements ever since. There is much still up in the air about the long-term effects of her difficult birth, but she is now off the ventilator, breathing well on her own. She is being fed breast milk through a feeding tube in her nose. And she is starting to exhibit behaviors more typical of a newborn -- reacting sometimes to stimuli, "peeping" if not actually crying, opening her eyes a bit. We who love her and her family are so thrilled by God's miracle in-the-works in her.
I wanted to share with you the web address of her "Caring Bridge" site, if you're interested. It has been passed around to many, even beyond her immediate social circle. Please add your prayers and well-wishes to those already being offered (either privately or by signing the guestbook). Go to www.caringbridge.org/visit/hopepoehler.
What a difference a week makes! And we can only wait and see what another week will bring.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
4 Out of 4 Bedtime Readers in Our House
Greg and I have always LOVED to read in bed before going to sleep. It's the most relaxing part of the day! (I remember when I was a child and Mom would say how she LOVED going to bed and lying there reading; I'm sure I could grasp the love-of-reading part, but I remember just being perplexed that anyone would lood FORWARD to bedtime! Well, now that I'M the mom, all that's changed! I GET it!!)
Logan too (our 9-yr-old) has loved to read since he started, and is a very good reader for his age -- whipping through "chapter books" in no time flat. Last summer, we introduced to him the joy of reading late in bed. When he had no need to be up early the next morning, we started allowing him to read in bed pretty much as late as he wanted. He loves it!
Then, a couple months ago, when Gabe was making every excuse in the book to delay bedtime one night, I figured maybe he truly wasn't tired. So I said, "OK, if you're not tired, you may sit in your chair [the armchair in his room where we sit and read bedtime stories] and look at books until you're sleepy. Then you turn off the lamp and get into bed." I thought it would last maybe 5 minutes; it lasted, as I recall, pretty close to an hour!
Some nights it works better than others (as you might expect from a 3-year-old). And often he doesn't do what he did that first night and get HIMSELF into bed, but calls us to spread out his blanket, etc. all over again. But that's OK. I'm just tickled pink that, at such a young age, he has discovered the joy of books and of enjoying them as a means to settle down to be ready for sleep!
Logan too (our 9-yr-old) has loved to read since he started, and is a very good reader for his age -- whipping through "chapter books" in no time flat. Last summer, we introduced to him the joy of reading late in bed. When he had no need to be up early the next morning, we started allowing him to read in bed pretty much as late as he wanted. He loves it!
Then, a couple months ago, when Gabe was making every excuse in the book to delay bedtime one night, I figured maybe he truly wasn't tired. So I said, "OK, if you're not tired, you may sit in your chair [the armchair in his room where we sit and read bedtime stories] and look at books until you're sleepy. Then you turn off the lamp and get into bed." I thought it would last maybe 5 minutes; it lasted, as I recall, pretty close to an hour!
Some nights it works better than others (as you might expect from a 3-year-old). And often he doesn't do what he did that first night and get HIMSELF into bed, but calls us to spread out his blanket, etc. all over again. But that's OK. I'm just tickled pink that, at such a young age, he has discovered the joy of books and of enjoying them as a means to settle down to be ready for sleep!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Give a Mom a Heart Attack!
I had brought Gabe with me to the church so I could do a couple things. Naturally, when I was ready to go home -- in fact, NEEDED to go home because it suddenly dawned on me that Logan was due home from summer school any minute and wouldn't know where we were -- Gabe wanted to stay and play in the "toy room." Well, some of the "church ladies" were there, getting ready for tomorrow's funeral, so they graciously agreed he could stay and play and they'd keep an eye on him. I said I'd come back soon to bring him home.
Soon after getting home, I got a phone call from a publisher wanting to offer me a video resource I might be able to use with groups at church. I was still on the phone with her when, all of a sudden, I heard the front door open and Gabriel's little voice: "Hi, Mom!" Glancing out the window and not seeing a car, I panicked and interrupted my conversation with the vendor to clamor: "Who brought you home??" "I brought MYSELF home!" he exclaimed.
As I said in the title, GIVE A MOM A HEART ATTACK!! Even after the fact! Even knowing he's safe and sound! I couldn't BELIEVE it! -- this 3-1/2 year old walked a whole block home, including CROSSING A STREET BY HIMSELF!!!!!!!!! AAAAGGGHHHH!!! Granted, Hendrum streets can see HOURS pass without one car going by, but STILL..... And it's not like we worry TOO much about our kids getting nabbed by a stranger, but good grief, it COULD happen!!
Well, of course, I promptly got off the phone and called the church to tell the ladies Gabe was safe and sound. They had gotten busy with their kitchen work, had not even heard him leave, and all of a sudden realized he wasn't there. Someone in the apartment building across the street had seen him walking home and recognized him -- I don't even know who, but there ya go -- that's the other good thing about a small town where "everybody knows everybody," or at least almost.
The vendor on the phone had heard it all -- Gabe's declaration of independence, my startled response of "Gabriel KAI!" -- and she said, "The angels were watching over him, weren't they? That's your miracle for today!" No kidding!
Of course we have now had a discussion about how his actions made the ladies scared and scared me too (he doesn't have to know how illogical it is for me to have felt scared AFTER the fact). Things aren't sinking in too well with him lately, however, so I have no confidence that he really "gets" it. It just tells me one more thing that I have to watch out for with him. Sheesh.
Soon after getting home, I got a phone call from a publisher wanting to offer me a video resource I might be able to use with groups at church. I was still on the phone with her when, all of a sudden, I heard the front door open and Gabriel's little voice: "Hi, Mom!" Glancing out the window and not seeing a car, I panicked and interrupted my conversation with the vendor to clamor: "Who brought you home??" "I brought MYSELF home!" he exclaimed.
As I said in the title, GIVE A MOM A HEART ATTACK!! Even after the fact! Even knowing he's safe and sound! I couldn't BELIEVE it! -- this 3-1/2 year old walked a whole block home, including CROSSING A STREET BY HIMSELF!!!!!!!!! AAAAGGGHHHH!!! Granted, Hendrum streets can see HOURS pass without one car going by, but STILL..... And it's not like we worry TOO much about our kids getting nabbed by a stranger, but good grief, it COULD happen!!
Well, of course, I promptly got off the phone and called the church to tell the ladies Gabe was safe and sound. They had gotten busy with their kitchen work, had not even heard him leave, and all of a sudden realized he wasn't there. Someone in the apartment building across the street had seen him walking home and recognized him -- I don't even know who, but there ya go -- that's the other good thing about a small town where "everybody knows everybody," or at least almost.
The vendor on the phone had heard it all -- Gabe's declaration of independence, my startled response of "Gabriel KAI!" -- and she said, "The angels were watching over him, weren't they? That's your miracle for today!" No kidding!
Of course we have now had a discussion about how his actions made the ladies scared and scared me too (he doesn't have to know how illogical it is for me to have felt scared AFTER the fact). Things aren't sinking in too well with him lately, however, so I have no confidence that he really "gets" it. It just tells me one more thing that I have to watch out for with him. Sheesh.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Potty (& Other) Wars, Escape Artistry, & Then...a Baby Named Hope
Well, as you can tell, it has been a long time since I last posted -- and even longer since I posted anything original about mothering and/or pastoring. I'll tell you why:
It has been just far too crazy around here to have any energy whatsoever left over to write in the late evenings (sometimes VERY late by the time Gabriel finally settles down to sleep. Remember the excitement about the "Potty Party"?? Well, apparently Gabe thought that was to be a one-time party for a one-day potty stint and then back to diapers. After being so happy and proud of himself that evening for having attempted the potty, and even having a small margin of success, that day, the very next day was the start of major and oft-recurring meltdowns about that very thing. For the first day, he was at least willing to try for the babysitter (oh yes, he always corrects me: "CHILD-sitter!"), but fussy and whiny each time for Greg or me. By the following day, there were more tears and whines (Gabe), moans and groans (us), and LOTS of frustration all around. So, although I had determined I would NOT give up or give in because it is OBVIOUS he is flat-out stubborn on this, we DID end up giving in and deciding we'll try again later... as all the experts would, no doubt, encourage us to do.
Besides all THAT drama, we've also been dealing with ever-increasing all-around stubbornness and lack-of-listening on Gabriel's part. So much so that the home office has started to resemble a toy store, or at least a toy closet, as, one by one, many, MANY of Gabe's beloved toys have "gone away" as a consequence of blatant refusal to listen and follow instructions from a parent or -- ahem -- CHILD-sitter. He can earn a toy back by being a reasonably good listener for one day. But it is not uncommon for him to gain a toy back, only to have it removed yet again within a very short timeframe for, you guessed it, refusal to listen. And yes, for anyone who may be wondering, he does HEAR just fine; he simply opts not to respond to what he hears. Like I said, this child is STUBBORN.
We have had time-outs. OH!, have we had time-outs! This is not a child who will sit on a stool, or a special chair, or what-have-you, for a calm 3-minute time-out time. No. (Well, not for Greg and me, that is. Again, his daycare provider who took care of him through mid-May, and his summer CHILD-sitter seem to manage this as well, but for Mom and Dad -- no way.) We inevitably end up holding him firmly as he sits on one of our laps in a chair in his room. Often he'll attempt to kick or slap us, so we put our leg over his legs and our arms over his arms. It's quite a deal. I would worry about his sometime-plaintive and sometime-furious cries of "You're HURTING me!" if I didn't know for an absolute FACT that I am not; I actually grasp my OWN arm with the other OVER his, not putting direct pressure onto him at all. But, too, I am sad to admit what I never intended to do as a parent: Gabe has in just the past week or two received more swats on the butt than Logan ever did in his whole preschool time. (I swatted Logan's hand once, and he said, "No hit, Mama," prompting me to burst into tears and that was the last time THAT ever happened. But this brother of his... I SWEAR...) Be assured that these are through-the-jeans-and-diaper (yes, DIAPER!) spankings -- by far more offending to his sensibilities than painful. And I surely do struggle with the duplicity of messages we send: you hit and you get a time-out, but Mom and Dad can hit you? I hate it. But it seems to be the only thing that gets his attention sometimes.
I read in a Sears book on discipline that, if there are potty-training problems because the child is stubborn, stop the potty-training and deal with the stubbornness first. So that's where we're at. But wait... there's more:
A couple days ago, Gabriel learned how to unlock the screen doors, stepped out onto the front deck without permission, and, not surprisingly, Norman the Cat stepped out as well. Fortunately for all concerned, I was aware of it all the moment it happened and went promptly to scoop up cat and kid and corral them both back into the house and lock the INSIDE door that has the kid-proof knob-protector thingy, which -- I'm sure -- Gabe will ALSO conquer in a short while. So that evening, Greg installed hook-and-eye style latches way up high on our screen doors to keep our little Houdini in the house when he needs to be.
NOW... having said ALL THAT... let me tell you about my pastoring experience this morning:
A member of the congregation called at 2 a.m., saying her daughter had given birth by emergency c-section, but it had been a matter of placenta previa and then abrupta (separating from the uterine wall) and the baby was deprived of oxygen for quite some time. At 14 minutes of age, the doctors finally got Baby Hope's heart to beat, and she has been making slow but steady progress ever since. (She was full-term, and is good-sized, so she has that in her favor.) However, there will be no way to know for sure, for perhaps a very long time, what the long-term ramifications might be.
And at 4:45 a.m., I stood scrubbed and gowned in the NICU, placing my little finger into her little palm, stroking her bare tummy, warm under the heat-lamps, gazing at her perfect little toenails and fingernails and her soft black hair, gently navigating around all the tubes feeding her, medicating her, and helping her breathe, and the wires monitoring her frail little life... and tears coursed down my cheeks and I said, "I'm your pastor, Baby Girl. You've got to pull through this; you've got to hang on. So many people love you already. Your mommy is waiting to get strong enough to come see you. You can do it, sweetheart. Jesus loves you, precious Hope."
And I am so, so aware of how fortunate Greg and I are that our boys were not born into such touch-and-go struggle... that they are physically healthy -- indeed, healthy enough to be ornery.
I have a hunch that Hope will hang on and live... and no matter what her developing brain will or will not be able to do, she will be a precious little gift of God to her family and our congregation. But will she be able to willfully CHOOSE not to potty-train, or will it just not be an option? Will she be capable of manipulating a screen-door lock, running away from her parents in a grocery store after promising to keep her hand on the cart, wiggling and climbing and turning on the TV when it's not TV time, stuffing her mouth too full of pizza and wondering why her mom and dad think it's such a big deal? I hope so... but we don't know yet.
Whatever she is able to do, she will be fabulous! Her uniquenesses will remind us all of how God's fingers have formed each of our lives, and then re-formed each of them when they have been broken in some way or another (be it placenta previa at birth or difficulty much later in life). By her very name (chosen BEFORE her mommy went into labor -- is THAT a gift of and sign from God, or WHAT?!), she will help all who know her to remember the miracle of a human life -- hers, and every other.
And then... there is Gabriel. He, too, has a symbolic name -- not chosen for that reason, but just because Greg and I liked it. Still... his name reminds us of the messenger of God who finally announced in specific, concrete terms the coming of God into the world. And in MY Gabriel, I often, OFTEN -- in between the obstinate spells -- see a sincere caring for other people, and a child's innocent grasp that there is a God above and beside and within us to take care of us always.
And so my ornery, frustrating, lovable Gabe prayed tonight for fragile, beautiful, newborn Hope -- thanking God for her and praying God will make her well. And if she is even a SMIDGEN as stubborn as he is, she'll be fine and dandy.
It has been just far too crazy around here to have any energy whatsoever left over to write in the late evenings (sometimes VERY late by the time Gabriel finally settles down to sleep. Remember the excitement about the "Potty Party"?? Well, apparently Gabe thought that was to be a one-time party for a one-day potty stint and then back to diapers. After being so happy and proud of himself that evening for having attempted the potty, and even having a small margin of success, that day, the very next day was the start of major and oft-recurring meltdowns about that very thing. For the first day, he was at least willing to try for the babysitter (oh yes, he always corrects me: "CHILD-sitter!"), but fussy and whiny each time for Greg or me. By the following day, there were more tears and whines (Gabe), moans and groans (us), and LOTS of frustration all around. So, although I had determined I would NOT give up or give in because it is OBVIOUS he is flat-out stubborn on this, we DID end up giving in and deciding we'll try again later... as all the experts would, no doubt, encourage us to do.
Besides all THAT drama, we've also been dealing with ever-increasing all-around stubbornness and lack-of-listening on Gabriel's part. So much so that the home office has started to resemble a toy store, or at least a toy closet, as, one by one, many, MANY of Gabe's beloved toys have "gone away" as a consequence of blatant refusal to listen and follow instructions from a parent or -- ahem -- CHILD-sitter. He can earn a toy back by being a reasonably good listener for one day. But it is not uncommon for him to gain a toy back, only to have it removed yet again within a very short timeframe for, you guessed it, refusal to listen. And yes, for anyone who may be wondering, he does HEAR just fine; he simply opts not to respond to what he hears. Like I said, this child is STUBBORN.
We have had time-outs. OH!, have we had time-outs! This is not a child who will sit on a stool, or a special chair, or what-have-you, for a calm 3-minute time-out time. No. (Well, not for Greg and me, that is. Again, his daycare provider who took care of him through mid-May, and his summer CHILD-sitter seem to manage this as well, but for Mom and Dad -- no way.) We inevitably end up holding him firmly as he sits on one of our laps in a chair in his room. Often he'll attempt to kick or slap us, so we put our leg over his legs and our arms over his arms. It's quite a deal. I would worry about his sometime-plaintive and sometime-furious cries of "You're HURTING me!" if I didn't know for an absolute FACT that I am not; I actually grasp my OWN arm with the other OVER his, not putting direct pressure onto him at all. But, too, I am sad to admit what I never intended to do as a parent: Gabe has in just the past week or two received more swats on the butt than Logan ever did in his whole preschool time. (I swatted Logan's hand once, and he said, "No hit, Mama," prompting me to burst into tears and that was the last time THAT ever happened. But this brother of his... I SWEAR...) Be assured that these are through-the-jeans-and-diaper (yes, DIAPER!) spankings -- by far more offending to his sensibilities than painful. And I surely do struggle with the duplicity of messages we send: you hit and you get a time-out, but Mom and Dad can hit you? I hate it. But it seems to be the only thing that gets his attention sometimes.
I read in a Sears book on discipline that, if there are potty-training problems because the child is stubborn, stop the potty-training and deal with the stubbornness first. So that's where we're at. But wait... there's more:
A couple days ago, Gabriel learned how to unlock the screen doors, stepped out onto the front deck without permission, and, not surprisingly, Norman the Cat stepped out as well. Fortunately for all concerned, I was aware of it all the moment it happened and went promptly to scoop up cat and kid and corral them both back into the house and lock the INSIDE door that has the kid-proof knob-protector thingy, which -- I'm sure -- Gabe will ALSO conquer in a short while. So that evening, Greg installed hook-and-eye style latches way up high on our screen doors to keep our little Houdini in the house when he needs to be.
NOW... having said ALL THAT... let me tell you about my pastoring experience this morning:
A member of the congregation called at 2 a.m., saying her daughter had given birth by emergency c-section, but it had been a matter of placenta previa and then abrupta (separating from the uterine wall) and the baby was deprived of oxygen for quite some time. At 14 minutes of age, the doctors finally got Baby Hope's heart to beat, and she has been making slow but steady progress ever since. (She was full-term, and is good-sized, so she has that in her favor.) However, there will be no way to know for sure, for perhaps a very long time, what the long-term ramifications might be.
And at 4:45 a.m., I stood scrubbed and gowned in the NICU, placing my little finger into her little palm, stroking her bare tummy, warm under the heat-lamps, gazing at her perfect little toenails and fingernails and her soft black hair, gently navigating around all the tubes feeding her, medicating her, and helping her breathe, and the wires monitoring her frail little life... and tears coursed down my cheeks and I said, "I'm your pastor, Baby Girl. You've got to pull through this; you've got to hang on. So many people love you already. Your mommy is waiting to get strong enough to come see you. You can do it, sweetheart. Jesus loves you, precious Hope."
And I am so, so aware of how fortunate Greg and I are that our boys were not born into such touch-and-go struggle... that they are physically healthy -- indeed, healthy enough to be ornery.
I have a hunch that Hope will hang on and live... and no matter what her developing brain will or will not be able to do, she will be a precious little gift of God to her family and our congregation. But will she be able to willfully CHOOSE not to potty-train, or will it just not be an option? Will she be capable of manipulating a screen-door lock, running away from her parents in a grocery store after promising to keep her hand on the cart, wiggling and climbing and turning on the TV when it's not TV time, stuffing her mouth too full of pizza and wondering why her mom and dad think it's such a big deal? I hope so... but we don't know yet.
Whatever she is able to do, she will be fabulous! Her uniquenesses will remind us all of how God's fingers have formed each of our lives, and then re-formed each of them when they have been broken in some way or another (be it placenta previa at birth or difficulty much later in life). By her very name (chosen BEFORE her mommy went into labor -- is THAT a gift of and sign from God, or WHAT?!), she will help all who know her to remember the miracle of a human life -- hers, and every other.
And then... there is Gabriel. He, too, has a symbolic name -- not chosen for that reason, but just because Greg and I liked it. Still... his name reminds us of the messenger of God who finally announced in specific, concrete terms the coming of God into the world. And in MY Gabriel, I often, OFTEN -- in between the obstinate spells -- see a sincere caring for other people, and a child's innocent grasp that there is a God above and beside and within us to take care of us always.
And so my ornery, frustrating, lovable Gabe prayed tonight for fragile, beautiful, newborn Hope -- thanking God for her and praying God will make her well. And if she is even a SMIDGEN as stubborn as he is, she'll be fine and dandy.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
"Break Your Worry Habit" by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale
The following was passed on to me and contains insights I need to remember and practice. Maybe you too?
Worry is a mental habit taken on from others. You were not born with it, you acquired it. Because you can change any habit, you can cast out worry from you mind. Worry wastes energy. The time to stop worrying is today. So, practice the following formula and give your personal worries the greatest blow they ever received.
1. Know that worry is a habit; you have practiced worrying for so long it has become a mind-set.
2. Worry is man’s greatest plague. People say “I’m sick from worry” and then laughingly add, “not really sick, of course.” But they can be, and often are, actually ill from worry.
3. Worries fall into three categories (according to a study of case histories by a group of physicians who established worry as the greatest cause of illness), 40% of your worries are about the past; 50% about the future; 10% about present matter.
4. To be rid of past mistakes, practice the art of forgetting, never look back. Every morning and every evening, repeat one of the greatest aids to mental health: “Forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press forward” (Philippians 3:13-14, paraphrased). Repeat that now three times, slowly.
5. Meditate on a wise statement by William James, the great psychologist: “The essence of genius is to know what to overlook.”
6. Affirm faith in the future. Remind yourself that despite all the troubles and difficulties that are with us, God is also with us. He is not likely to depart from anyone who trusts Him.
7. Practice the art of imperturbability. Whatever the stress, affirm, “God is keeping me calm and peaceful.” Worry rolls off the imperturbable mind like water off a duck’s back.
8. Empty your mind by saying, “I am now emptying my mind of all anxiety, fear, and insecurity.” Imaginatively do this now. Think of yourself as reaching into your mind and one by one removing the worries. A child has an imaginative skill beyond that of adults. A hurt can be kissed away. It works because he believes that is the end of it and so it proves to be. Jesus says for you to become “as a little child.”
9. Fill your mind. Say, “God is now filling my mind with peace, with courage and with calm assurance.”
10. Practice God’s presence, saying, “God is with me now. God is my constant companion. God will never leave me.” The practice of the presence of God, the companionship of Christ is a shield against worry. Would you worry if He were actually with you? There is no if about it. He said He would be, and so He is.
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