Kiss Your Miracle

Last night I was down on the beach with Adam, Sky, my mom, Aunt Mary, and the two dogs. Everything was muted; the sunset was pale, the water was calm, and the air was still. Lately the emphasis in my family has been on my dad, remembering who he was and all of his funny and best attributes. But last night as I watched my mom and aunt walking along the water’s edge with Sky, I couldn’t help but think about the quality women in my family.

Mary and my mom love the beach and they love to pick up smooth, pretty stones along the shoreline. But because Sky was with them yesterday, they moved slowly down the edge of the water, helping her put rocks of her own into a plastic bag. Later she wanted to throw half of them into the water, and they cheered for her as she tossed them all of three inches ahead of her little tennis shoes. “When you have a toddler,” my mom told me the other day, “the best thing you can do is slow down and go at their pace.” Watching her interact with Sky is a constant reminder to me that finishing my to-do list shouldn’t always be my top priority.

My mom and Mary both have seven kids, and the older I get the more amazing that fact becomes. My first pregnancy was a breeze. I walked several miles every day, right up until I gave birth a week overdue. This time around things are still fairly easy, but I feel more tired. It’s awkward trying to hold my sixteen month old with my belly so big and round. I have varicose veins and my back is sore a lot. I don’t mean to complain – I’m honestly thrilled to be pregnant. I just want to emphasize the fact that this is my second baby and most of the time I feel worn out. My mom and my aunt did this seven times. And not just the pregnancy part, but the sleepless-nights-newborn stage and the temper-tantrum-two-year-old stage and even the rebellious teenager stage. Seven times. And what I remember most about them from my childhood was all the laughing they did, and the way they had coffee breaks just about every afternoon while all of us kids ran wild.

Lately I can’t seem to get over how much I’ve been given when it comes to family. Now that I’m a mother myself, I’m starting to realize how much I have to live up to. I can only hope that God will give me the ability to follow the pattern set before me as I raise my children.

“From everyone who has been given much, much will be required.” – from Luke 12: 48

Since the beginning of October, life has been a bit chaotic, especially since we’ve been away from home. Space is limited at my Mom’s house here in Michigan, so Adam, Skylar, and I have been sharing one room. At this point we’re fairly used to having Sky sleep near us at night, but at 1am the other morning, something woke her up. And instead of going back to sleep as usual, she jumped to her feet and pitifully reached her arms out to us. We were lying in bed just a few feet away from her, and once she realized we were right there she refused to stop crying. After a while we broke down and took her in the bed with us, but that only excited her; instead of sleeping she started crawling all over us. Back to her bed she went, but now she was more awake than ever.

By 4am we were all exhausted, but morning was still hours away. We were tempted to leave her in her bed to cry it out, but it seemed unfair with my brothers and sisters sleeping in the bedrooms all around us. “Let’s go on the other side of the bed on the floor,” Adam finally said. “She won’t be able to see us there and she’ll probably go back to sleep.” As soon as we crawled onto the floor, Sky got quiet. We lay there completely still for a few minutes, afraid to breathe. We didn’t dare climb back in the bed, but slowly and carefully, we reached up to grab a couple pillows. The comforter though, was a bigger problem. It’s made of down and it’s crinkly, and pulling it off the bed would have made a lot of noise. There was a small blanket in the corner of the room, but it wasn’t big enough for both Adam and me. “You take it,” he said quickly. “Okay… but what are you going to use?” Hanging on the closet door was a damp bath towel. “Really?” I said as Adam pulled it over himself. “You’re going to sleep under a wet towel?” That’s just what he did. We huddled together in a tiny space on the floor next to a beautiful, vacant, king-sized bed.

The next morning when dawn came and Sky was up and ready to start the day, I looked down at my round belly and thought, “Well, I guess Sky is doing her part to get us ready to have a newborn again.” And then I thought about how quickly my life’s theme switched from the emptiness of infertility to the exhaustion of new motherhood. Sometimes being a parent is hard. But when I look at my mom and brothers and sisters, and the way everyone has pulled so tightly together through the difficulty of my dad’s cancer and death, I’m amazed by the simple fact that I get to be part of a family – the family of my childhood, but not just that family. The one I married into as well. And the church family where I belong. And now, the family I have with Adam and Skylar and a new baby on the way.

Families can be messy and irritating and flawed in many ways, but when I stop and try to imagine my life without them, I can’t see them as anything but a blessing. In my experience, raising a family is much more difficult that growing up in one. I get grumpy when I’m tired and feel completely overwhelmed at least once a day. But when I get beyond those temporary things, I remember that God has given me what I always wanted. My life is all about family. Every day I get the opportunity to take some of the blessings passed on to me from my parents and hand them down to my own children. It’s a wonderful way to spend a life, no matter how tiring it gets.

On Monday, Adam, Skylar and I flew from Michigan back to Florida. I’ve been gone for three and a half weeks and things at home have been piling up. Skylar and I both have doctor appointments this week, and Adam needs to put in some time at work. Our plan is just to be here a few days and then fly back to my family this weekend.

I guess in a way it’s nice to be home. Our house feels spacious and quiet compared to the noise and chaos of my parents’ house in Michigan. But I can’t really enjoy being here. All day long I think about my family up north. I wonder how my dad’s day is going – whether he was able to sleep last night, if he’s eaten much, if he’s feeling calm or anxious, the things he’s said today, his pain level – all things I would know if I were still there. I can always call my mom for an update, but I know how busy she is, and that long phone conversations are a burden to her these days. If I were home, I’d catch her in the kitchen while she makes her standard breakfast (rice cakes with peanut butter, eaten while bustling around) or I’d sit on her bed and talk to her while she puts on her makeup. I’d be able to see for myself how my dad is doing, and I could hug him and tell him I love him before he goes to bed, which is wonderful even when he’s not coherent enough to say much in return.

Leaving my family for the week has only emphasized to me what a blessing it’s been to be with them. Every day with my dad is precious and I want as many of them as I can have. Even though traveling with Sky, our firecracker fifteen-month-old, is not easy, the thought of flying back to my family this weekend is a relief. But as I approach the third trimester of my pregnancy, I wonder how long I’ll be able to stay. It’s just one of the many question marks that cover the days ahead. Thank God it’s not up to me to find the answers. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t plan out the next few months of my life. But the Lord knows what will happen. He knows our son’s birthday and he knows how much I want to be near my parents through the crisis of my dad’s cancer. He will work things out for our best. And all that’s required of me is to follow Jesus today.

“Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach.” – Deuteronomy 30:11

My dad’s cancer is the main thing on my family’s mind these days. We’ve spent hours praying, talking, and wondering what the future holds. But at the same time, life rolls forward. Since I got here three weeks ago, the leaves have changed colors and the air has grown cooler. “Your belly is definitely getting bigger,” I hear from someone just about every other day. Sky is fifteen months now, and since we arrived she’s learned to repeat names and say her first full sentence – “I don’t know” – which she says like a teenager, making us all laugh every time.

The other day Adam and I took Sky over to my cousin Johanna’s house. She has a two-year-old named Beck and a nine-month-old named Ruby. My brother Hans and his wife Katy were there too, with nine-month-old Nicholas. The kids ran/crawled around in a chaotic mess, and we all marveled to think that a year from now, there will be three more babies in the mix (our baby boy, due in February, and Hans and Katy’s twins, due in April).

I have to be honest. I haven’t spent much time lately thinking about my pregnancy. When I stop and give it my full attention, I’m excited, but there’s been so much happening with my dad that my thoughts have been concentrated on my parents. But as I watched the kids play, I was struck by the simple thought that one of those children is my daughter. And when Katy talks about her pregnancy, I can participate firsthand because I’m pregnant too. Me. The girl with a major hormone imbalance and just one fallopian tube, which is supposedly blocked.

My dad is struggling and it’s difficult for us all. But the God who gave Adam and me two “impossible” pregnancies is the same God who holds my dad in his arms this very moment. Sometimes His miracles are tangible – answers to prayer that we get to hold and hug. And sometimes His miracles are so deep in a person’s soul that only God is truly aware of their extent. But they are no less miraculous than physical blessings. God is at work in the heart of each individual in my family, and He alone knows what is most important for each of us.

My entire immediate family was together this weekend in Michigan. That’s two parents, four brothers, three sisters, two spouses, two grandbabies, plus three grandbabies on the way (our baby boy, due in February, and my brother and his wife’s twins, due in April). The days are a little chaotic with so many people around, but now more than ever it’s great to have everyone together.

The other day, as I watched two of my brothers help my dad into his wheelchair for a quick trip around the block, I was struck by how grown up everyone suddenly seems. There is still plenty of laughing and kidding around – thank God! I can’t imagine my family without that – but there is a new awareness of responsibility too. Everyone seems ready to help out in whatever way possible. There is stress and sadness over my dad’s cancer, but not the usual whining that used to go along with too much family time.

I wish I could say that I have always respected my parents, always given them the benefit of the doubt, and always trusted their decisions for our family. But I can’t. I know that over the years I’ve been quick to notice their faults, not to show grace. I bet that each of my siblings could look back and find things they regret too. But right after my dad’s terminal diagnosis, my mom told us, “Don’t go over your past mistakes. Let’s just focus on what we can do for each other today.”

I am so grateful that my parents are loving, forgiving people. As a new parent myself, I feel like I see my mom and dad differently these days. I understand a bit more the frustration that comes when your child won’t listen to you, especially when you’re just trying to help and protect them. I know it’s impossible to raise a family without any arguments, and that tension is part of the growing up process. But I also hope that somehow Adam and I can follow in our parents’ footsteps with our own children, gently teaching them by example that they will never regret investing time in their family today.

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” – I Cor. 13:13