My kid is in juvie

Should I raise my hand?  It's joys & concerns, and this is a huge heavy concern.  It would probably really throw him off up there.  I'd get to see some church ladies squirm.  That could be entertaining.  I don't think I can say this without crying.  I don't want to throw my kids out there for the judgment and the gossip.  I know the power of the prayer list, but I also know the gossip it feeds.  But this hurts the same as cancer.  It does.  Jesus knew and put it on the same short list.  I just can't say it without crying.  

It has been a very rough week and I have shed many tears.  My bonus kid came to me in July with a bit of a rap sheet.  I haven't written about it because he's a kid and I've felt it's his story to tell.  He is a insanely talented kid, too, who tells his story at his own pace, in his own lyrics, and to his own audience.  His grandpa reminded me, though, that there is probably something I am supposed to learn here, too.  When I met with him to tell him all B's probation officer had told me and the consequences that I believed were best after the latest series of bad choices, he said that he tries to remember there is probably something here for him to learn, too.  Fighting tears he said, "What is it that God wants me to take from this too?" 

Why did I stop that?  I listened for the lessons with Mr. 1inamillion's cancer journey.  I knew I was along the path with him for a reason, too.  The biggest thing I've noticed is that life amidst juvenile delinquency is a lot like life amidst oncology, at least from the driver's seat.  There are PO appointments. Psychology appointments.  Substance abuse group therapy and 1-on-1 sessions.  A sentencing hearing is a lot like scan results.  You are forced to wait for a long, indefinite period of time in a waiting room for someone who does not know you but because of a higher education they're qualified to sentence you to months of whatever treatment they believe will hopefully put this behind you for good.  or at least for now. 

The language is different.  The juvenile court system has it's own set of words and acronyms much like, but completely different than, oncology.  I'm slow, but learning them.  Of course B asked for his consequences with actions and bad choices.....not unlike some cancer patients (smokers and tan addicts) but certainly unlike most and Mr. 1inamillion.  While waiting for B's last hearing after two days of scared, wrong choices, my heartbreak and anguish felt the same.  Seeing the kid you claim and love in handcuffs and a jumpsuit hurts.  It's heartbreaking.  It hurts to tell a lawyer you just met that No, we will not take him home and allow intense probation.  It is not what is best for him and he will run.  We believe his best option now is the boys ranch.

I don't know firsthand what Dane thought or felt lying in a hospital bed, and I can't understand what B is thinking or feeling inside a cell.  I do know that sitting outside of a juvenile detention center, the anguish felt is not much different than that felt sitting outside of a hospital.  This is one thing I've learned.  I understand why Jesus put both on the short list of the least of these in Matthew 25. 

I knew before this last week that the kid had been whittling away at my high horse.  As moms, we look at other people's kids as trouble for our own.  Stay away from him, he's a bad influence.  Stay away from her, that girl is trouble.  I have said to B, just as to things 1 & 2, all of your friends are welcome here until they specifically give me a reason not to be.  There are a couple that I will chase off of my lawn with a snow shovel because they earned my wrath firsthand.  There are friends he has made that were preceeded by the gossip and attitude from other parents or teenagers.  I am trying to offer those kids the same grace and chances I want for my kid because I know my kid's heart, and I know many probably judge him and consider him the bad influence.  I tell you that some of those deemed trouble by the gossip mill have proven to be true friends who came through to save his life and encourage the right choices. 

This week my horse dropped a lot lower.  I've judged.  I've blamed.  I carried a burden I did not want and did not believe I should have to carry.  Why God? I don't want to do it.  I know, be the Mom he needs, not the Mom he wants.  It's not my job to make you happy or comfortable, as a parent the goal is to get you to adulthood as a responsible, contributing citizen.  Oh, God, I shouldn't have to be the hard ass mom.  Was I tagged in to just be the bitch?  It's Christmas. 

He's going to miss Christmas.  HE IS NOT.  He will miss the tradition and commercialization we've made it about, but not the grace.  Jesus was born in a barn...amidst shit & flies...he spent his first birthday and second as a refugee in Africa fleeing Herod's genocide.  Jesus came to make all things new and he started in shit & flies.  B is not missing Christmas.  He may have the truest Christmas of all.  OH LORD, PLEASE LET HIM KNOW THAT.  PLEASE, GOD, MAKE YOUR PRESENCE SO CLEAR AND OBVIOUS TO HIM.  I AM TALKING BIG, BURLY ANGEL IN THE CELL 'FEAR NOT' KIND OF OBVIOUS.  PLEASE, GOD.

Oh, it hurt to see him like that.  To let the judge say we didn't want him.  That isn't true.  We want what's best and we know we're not it. It's not fair being the bonus mom that has to be the hard ass mom.  God, that was gut wrenching.  So now you understand why I couldn't let her do it.  Oh, Lord, I do.  I am so sorry.  I can't imagine!  I can not even imagine doing this if I had birthed him and cuddled him.  If I had overcome all that she has, I would no doubt fall.  I would crumble.  Oh, Lord.  Please comfort her. Please be with her and help her, too.  Please help me be the mom you need me to be for B. and for her. 

So, it is Christmas Eve and my heart is heavy with concern.  My kid is in juvie.  With the same confidence I had before for Mr. 1inamillion, I am asking for prayers.  It's not a coincidence Jesus put them both on the short list.  Broken people are just broken, and hurt just hurts.


...I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. (Matthew 25:26)
...When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?
The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.  (-Matthew 25:39-40)

This Mom's been busted

Dear Thing 1,

Bubby, you’re right.  I do go to the mailbox and take out the letters written to Santa Claus.  Just as my parents did for me, and their parents before them, I get your gifts from Santa Claus and I fill your stockings.

You’ve heard him referred to as Saint Nicholas, right?  Saint Nicholas was really a Christian bishop in a country that is now known as Turkey.  He was known for giving generous gifts to the poor.  He was religious from an early age and devoted his life to Christianity. 

 

He was just one dude.  No elves. No flying reindeer.  He was just one Christian who gave generously, trying to follow Christ’s example.  In doing so, a beautiful tradition  of Christmas spirit was created (known as far back as the 1820s!) that has grown to the epic folk tale of Santa Claus.  So you are right, he is not real, but I think the spirit of generosity and celebration that is Santa Claus is legit.

God gave us the greatest gift of Jesus on the first Christmas.  We attempt to give generously each year to glorify it.  The surprise and anticipation that comes with the magic of Santa is just one of the ways we celebrate Christmas, Jesus Christ’s birthday.

One day many, many years from now, I hope you have the joy of stealing letters from the mailbox and sneaking around to fill stockings just as I do now and your grandparents did before me.  Right now you see the joy and magic as yours-- in receiving gifts from Santa Claus; but I think the real joy & magic is mine—seeing your faces light up Christmas morning with surprise and happiness.  So pretty please, help this Santa Momma out and try to at least fake it a while longer and don’t tell your sister. 

Merry Christmas. 

Love,

MOM

P.S.  I am the tooth fairy and I also hide the eggs at Easter.  I have no idea where those two traditions originated, but your grandparents played the roles for me, and one day you will play them, too.

Last post I talked about a greater desire to celebrate Christmas this year and feeling a greater sense of its meaning and joy.  Don't get me wrong, I do have my moments.  I would be lying if I said I didn't.  I would be lying if I said I certainly did not tell Amy Grant to suck it as she was singing on my radio about the most wonderful time of the year as I drove away from donating off Mr. 1inmillion's coats and shoes.  It would also be a lie to tell you I'm singing happy Christmas carols even half as much as Dolly Parton's Hard Candy Christmas. 

I'd be lying if I said no, I'm not lonely.  No, I don't miss having an adult with whom to have conversations and of course I absolutely enjoy having kids around me all. the. time.  It would be a definite untruth to tell you there's no way I've looked at online dating sites.  If I did, it certainly did not result in laughter, freak outs and a near panic attack. Lies.  (Let me just say, those single sites are massive a high way pile up.  You shouldn't slow down to gawk at the wreckage but oh my gravy you can't stop looking. Alot of freak shows out there.)  No way did I let all three kids in on the fun of rapid-fire profile rating yesterday and no, I have no idea why any one of my children might say sexy-love-train-plus some random number and giggle uncontrollably.  Of course not.  I am mom of the year.  Liar. Liar. Liar. Yes, my pants are on fire. 

Many moments may be consumed by anger or sadness, but they are just moments.  There is deep down joy in Christmas. Far beyond our circumstances joy.  Also the grace of a savior and forgiveness for my sins.  Such as lying. 

Weepy Hot Mess, Thanks for Asking

It's a standard greeting: "How are you?" with a standard reply: "Fine."  We don't expect more of a response when we ask it, and probably are afraid to give a truthful answer.  I know I am.  Lately my truly honest answer to "How are you?" is "Oh I'm a weepy hot mess, thank you for asking."

God blessed me with a few friends that get to receive my honest answers, and for some of them it won't even be censored based on when & where!  I ran into my lifelong BFF (seriously, since we were 1 year old) in the front aisle of Target the week before thanksgiving.  In front of a poor sweet newly hired cashier, our exchange went something like,

"Are you ready for Thanksgiving?" 

"Ugh, not really.  I'm really just freaking annoyed with it.  My husband's dead, Target is opening at 9 AND my brother's not wanting to do dinner until 4 o'clock.  That's all too much damn change for me.  Stupid, I know, but we usually do dinner around 1.  Dane's gone, black Friday is starting on Thursday AND we're changing the time we eat?!  I'm sorry, I know I'm a brat, but that's just past my freaking tolerance for change."

"Well, you can come have dinner with us.  We are doing dinner at 1:00 and everyone is invited as long as they're not related to me!  We're doing a friends thanksgiving this year."

"That sounds perfect!  If stuff is going to be different, I think we might as well just change it all and do everything differently.  What do I bring?" 

..And it was perfect.  We had a wonderful, fun and relaxed meal with a mix of new and old friends.  I've realized there isn't as big of a gaping hole in different.  We did go to our traditional family gathering at 4 o'clock and I of course felt Mr. 1inamillion's absence, but not as great had that been our only holiday meal.  I did black Friday shopping on Thursday with my sister and two nieces and the following Saturday we did family pictures.  I brought along the dog pack, because again there isn't as big of a gaping hole in different.  They are my greatest source of joy & distraction. Thankfully our photographer is another dear friend God gave me that welcomes my honesty and chaos.

In my mindset of 'might as well just change everything' I also changed up my meds.  I saw my doctor the day before Thanksgiving and decided to try something different for my Fibromyalgia.  My current med plus my tendency to eat my feelings over the last two years has brought on an extra 25 pounds.  According to my doc, really my only hope of losing weight is to go completely off the medicine.  Awesome.  So I wanted to try the newest fibro drug, which means also going off the antidepressants I had been taking.  Oh, and my previous birth control pills apparently were causing blood clots for alot of patients so that had to change too.  Sure, might as well just change it all.  Everything is different anyway, let's just get it all over with now.

So...holidays+dead husband+altering meds+fluctuating hormones=1 weepy hot mess.  Lesson learned. 

Many of my tears are not just the sadness of losing Mr. 1inamillion.  I think Christmas is truly resonating with me more now than ever.  It is because of Christ that I know that all is okay.  The birth of a savior is why we hold comfort in heaven and everlasting life.  It is the first offering of grace and forgiveness. It is why we have joy much deeper and beyond our circumstances and hope of new future.  I am overwhelmed by it. 

This morning in Sunday school, with a group that could also receive my honest answers, we were talking about giving up the idea of a perfect Christmas and how difficult this season can be for those of us suffering divorce, the loss of a loved one, a job loss or other hardships.  Some find it too hard to celebrate.  I was too overwhelmed with tears, but what I wanted to say is that amidst this grief I am also feeling greater joy and a greater desire to celebrate the birth of our Savior.  It is fulfillment in God's promise, a reminder of his love and plans for a hope and a future for us. It is because of God's gift of His son that we can stand 'joyful in hope, remain patient in our affliction and stay faithful in prayer.'