I Never Thought I Would Say This

"But, I homeschool."

Then I would clarify that I used to be the one in high school who thought homeschooling was weird.

I regret that now.

Yet, it just seemed natural to "clarify" as if I knew they already thought this rural-living-family-of-eight-with-a-big-van would, of course, homeschool because it came with the already weird territory.

But then, it became me.  It was one of the cornerstones on which I built the foundation of who I wanted my family to be.  I was the mom, and it was my duty to educate my children.  What better thing did I have to do with my time?  I only had one chance to raise them, and I wanted to do it "right."  I wanted them to play as long as they could and learn through that.  I wanted to provide them a classical education.  I wanted them home, together, and with us.  I wanted a simpler life.  I wanted them to see our faith as the most important part of their lives.  I wanted to protect their innocence as long as possible.  And then, I wanted them to be a light for others.

What I once thought was so weird soon became my "right" way.

Then last year hit, and homeschooling became something different.  It became the bare minimum in terms of curriculum coupled with a heavy dose of life lessons.  Together we learned how to grieve, how to hope and how to trust.  We learned what it means to have courage, and we are stronger than we once thought.  We learned challenges are lightened with prayer and community, and it is okay to be sad and ache for something more.  The year has taught us all so much, but maybe the most important lesson has been one in letting go.

When we arrived home from Houston, Jeremy said he thought it was time to put the kids in school.  I immediately felt defeated.  How could he ask me (or tell me) to give up the last thing I seemed to be clinging to after a year of what seemed to have taken most everything else?

All I wanted to do was convince him why he was so wrong in thinking that.  I wanted him to know that I would just re-prioritize - what had been an "off" year would change with the right schedule.  Even though I wasn't the homeschool mom I wanted to be, I tried to convince him that I could handle it.  With tears streaming down my face I begged him to just let me find a solution because this was the life plan we had based so much of our daily decisions on.

He said the only solution would be to hire someone full-time to be at the house with me.  In reality, we couldn't do that.

So I closed up.  I couldn't let my babies go.  What I had convinced myself was right for my family and a very critical part of my vocation was being asked of me, and as much as I had seen God's hand in the past year of detachment, surely this wasn't part of His plan.

In true Britt fashion, I called those closest to me, begging for answers of ways to make it work.  One by one the beautiful friends of mine brought things to light.

"Maybe it's time for you to allow your husband to lead your family in the way he thinks is best."

"Your marriage comes first.  Your kids next.  Let him love and protect you like he is trying to."

"Maybe your children could benefit from this for a time."

"It isn't a forever decision."

"It doesn't mean you have failed."

"Maybe you have to let go of this to grab hold of a better path God has planned."

Saying yes to this proposal did not mean that I was a bad mom.  It didn't mean I was selfish.  It didn't mean that I had abandoned all I had convinced myself was good for my children.  But it did mean letting go...again.  And, I didn't want to.

This time, it seemed too much.  Too much to ask of me.  Too much to let go of.

With days of crying at the thought of sending the kids to school and many prayers to soften my heart, I realized that what I am/was clinging to wasn't a situation of whether or not my children would be okay (although it was a huge part of what was plaguing me).  What I was clinging to was control.

And with control, a sense of security.

But, He wants it all...not just the piece of my life I'm willing to give up to Him.  Not just trust in caring for a special needs child.  Not just trust in fighting a chronic illness.  Not just trust in in a daily life so different from what it was just months ago.  He wants it all.  Trust in my marriage.  Trust in the raising of my children.  Trust in the times in which the "right" path may not have been the path I would have chosen.

We are sending the kids to school next year.

It still makes me cry thinking about it, but I know there is good to come.  I know this decision isn't forever (unless it becomes so).  I know Jeremy is trying so hard to allow me to heal and rest.  I know my children will be okay (they are excited!).  And, I know God has this just as He has had everything else.  

His plan is always greater than mine, and I just have to let go of mine long enough to see it.

Saturday Ramblings

 

Just less than four months ago, we were standing before this plane, anxiously awaiting the baby sister and daddy we had been apart from for too long.  Almost a month spent separated, I think each one of us realized the value of family and the strength and peace that comes from being together, as one unit, in the comfort of our home...even when that closeness can bring its own little hiccups.

Tomorrow, we do it again.  Not for as long, but equally steeped in emotion.

I will undergo surgery next week to remove both breasts and the lymph nodes under my arms.  Many have asked if I'm anxious.  And, while I'd like to say, "no" and that I have complete trust in God, I wouldn't be telling the entire truth.

I am anxious.  But right now, that anxiety stems from more than the surgery...mostly it comes from the eyes I look into as I say goodbye...those eyes that well up with tears and beg me not to leave again.  The eyes that are trying to fight back the "drips" while each one asks why I have to be gone again.  I'm worried about being apart.  I'm worried about little ones with health problems of their own.  I'm worried about the anxiety manifesting in their little hearts after the last few months.

Tuesday morning, I'll worry about my surgery.

In an ideal situation, I would tell you that the last almost six months, I've re-prioritized my life and now don't get irritated when the inconsequential things don't get done or the kids don't listen or the house doesn't stay clean for more than five minutes.  But, the situation isn't ideal, and I've been less than I should be when it comes to letting things go, in spite of my diagnosis.

I'm hoping the Lord is still chipping away at the silliness of my reactions and the lack of being who I need to be, because I don't want Him to give up...I just take a lot of molding ;)

I attended a virtual healing service last night.  That was a first for me - well, a first for a healing service of any kind.  And, while I'm so glad I did it, I went back and forth for awhile about truly what I wanted to ask God for.  I mean, I want to be well.  I want that "guarantee" that I'll see my kids have kids and share much more life with them (don't we all), but I wrestled with (and still do) what God's plan is for me.

I'm not saying that I think He wants me to die.  I just wonder how He wants to use me to reach others, and I pray daily for grace to allow that to happen.  Does He want to refine me via this cross?  I believe so.  And, it is teaching me so much about how much I lack in turning my life completely over to Him.  Can He use me as an example for others when they face their own unique crosses?  I pray so.  Does He want to use the power of a miraculous healing to bring others closer to Him?  Maybe.  I just don't know.  So, what I ask for is His will.  Be that a cure, a remission, or a constant cross...His will and the grace to accept it.

Again, Tuesday morning...I think I will worry more about the surgery.  Vainly, I'm anxious about getting lymphedema.  With my desire for control, I'm a bit worried about being helpless for awhile.  I'm also somewhat concerned about looking like Frankenstein and awaiting the pathology results.  I'm concerned about being away from home, from the ones I love most and from the familiar in the vulnerable.

Maybe in all of that, I should say those are my "thoughts" rather than my anxieties.  I know I cannot be in two places at once.  I know I have to do this in order that I may be as healthy as I can.  I know that my kids are in the hands of people who love them dearly.  And, above all, I know that God has this and is wrapping His arms around me as I go into surgery alone (cancer in COVID times;)).  I truly am not afraid.  I am ready for this, and I'm ready to be on the other side of it.

But, what I'm most ready for...these little ones waiting for me as I arrive home, much like Jesus is waiting for me to drop my arms and the weight of these thoughts and come into His.  Because if there is anything I'm learning (and trying to put into practice), it's this...little else matters besides Him.  And, we can rest in the promise that His will will be done regardless of our "help."

Come, Lord Jesus.

Life Itself

I just watched that movie.  Sitting here in my hotel room, attached to MD Anderson, alone.  And, while I wouldn't recommend that movie to just anyone without strong caveats,  strong caveats, it has a profound message, and one which deepens one's empathy.  And, in that setting, I write.

So, I have to back up.  To a month ago.  To this...

...sitting for family photos knowing I had a mammogram in two days that very few knew about.  Knowing that this might be our last "normal" photo for awhile.

I didn't want to believe the lump I noticed a few months before would be a problem.  The lump that since Agnes' birth I had forgotten about.  The one which I was reminded of with a phone call from my grandmother just a week or so before this.

My granddad (who had suffered greatly from a stroke almost two years before), woke up angry with my grandmother.  Apparently he believed I had called him in the night to tell him something was wrong.  Even after texting that I was fine, he wasn't convinced.  So, Jeremy stayed home with everyone but Agnes, and I drove out with her to see him.  When I arrived, he looked at my grandmother and said, "See!  She did call."  I tried to convince him otherwise without any success, and he said, "You said something was wrong, and you had something to show me."  So I introduced him to Agnes, and said I was fine.

But, that night, I remembered the lump I felt months before.

And, I got in touch with my OBGYN the next day to schedule a mammogram for after we returned from Agnes' appointments in Denver the next week.

I didn't tell anyone (well, except for my husband, mom, sister and a couple friends), because part of me was sure I had just made something out of nothing...like a clogged milk duct.  And, another part didn't want anyone to worry until they had a reason to worry.  But, when I told my mom a couple days before the appointment, she was determined to come with me (or at least drive me there).

When at the appointment they "saw something suspicious," part of me just knew.  They biopsied two sites and told me that it could be 200 other things but that they needed to rule out the one "bad" thing.  I got back in the car with my mom, and all I could think was, "Dear God please don't let my kids grow up without a mom."  I didn't want to start thinking of all of the what ifs, but I was somewhat worried, and I knew those I told were, too.

That night as I laid in bed thinking of the year we had had, I so vividly was reminded of Jesus being fully man and thus knowing the hurt of hard times, yet with He and His momma, part of me thought, "Yes, you became like us to know us and to feel everything with us - to be fully human - yet You never lost your mom."  

Two days later, as I was washing dishes after lunch, I had a call on my cell from an unknown number.  I picked it up, and after the lady on the other end asked me how my biopsied sites were doing, she asked if I "had a minute."  For the record, I'm no longer answering yes to that question ;)

I sat on my bed, grabbed a pen and opened up the nearest thing to me (a book called He and I), and began to write down everything she said.  It was a blur, but I came away knowing I had Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, Grade 3, with a 3.5 cm mass and at least one affected lymph node.  I would wait five more days to hear reports on the staging and receptor status.

I walked out of my room, made eye contact with Jeremy, and he followed me out our back door to sit on the steps, take a deep breath, cry and decide what to do next.  I had cancer.

Cancer.

I knew I needed to call my mom and sister, then one of my best childhood friends who had just been through a cancer diagnosis and treatment, and finally send a mass message to my friends and family who had no clue what was coming.

In the meantime, Jeremy called his parents and told our kids...the kids who haven't seen much death, but that which they have has almost always been tied to cancer.

After all of the communication, and the loving on my babies, I went to talk to my parents.  There is not much worse than seeing those you love most suffer...yet seeing them helplessly hurt for you, I've discovered, ranks right up there with it.

I came home to Jeremy driving his truck, with the kids behind in all of their run down, battery-operated vehicles...chained together, pulled by Dad...offering me what they termed, "The Love Parade."

I made the corner after watching their tear-stained faces wanting to lift my spirits and sobbed like I never have before.

And after that, I went back to those dishes.

Because what does one do after receiving a cancer diagnosis, with 8 sets of little eyes watching?

Only the very next thing that needs to be done.  Life itself.

I Didn't Want a Child with Special Needs

 

I was afraid.  Always.  With every new pregnancy, there would be moments in that first trimester that I would worry myself sick about the possibility of something being "wrong" with the baby.*

*Before I go any further, I am not well-versed in this nomenclature, and I'm sure I'll say the wrong thing unknowingly, but I never mean to offend.

I would anxiously await the genetic testing or anatomy scan and breathe a huge sign of relief when everything came back clear.  Although I know God doesn't work this way, I would think to myself, "We've had four (or five or six) healthy babies...when will my luck run out?

Typing all of this out humiliates me.  It wasn't that I didn't love those around me with special needs.  It was that I didn't think I could handle it.  It was fine for my neighbor, or that beautiful woman of faith who had a special needs child (or five!), but I wasn't that strong.

Then, we found out at twenty-three weeks that Agnes had a two-vessel cord...which meant next to nothing.  She could have health issues, or she could be completely fine.  Since her genetic testing was normal, I didn't give it much more thought.  She was "good."

Then the nursery nurse's words, "Umm, just so you're not alarmed when you change her, she doesn't look quite normal...and she has a big bruise down her leg."

Needless to say, a million questions ran through my mind -- I hadn't even been able to completely see her as I was hemorrhaging.  Would we be able to announce we really had an Agnes?  Was she okay?  What about the bruising?

As we learned more those two days, and the doctors threw out the name of a syndrome to attach to her health issues, the questions and unknowns weighed heavily on us.  What would she go through?  What crosses would she have to carry?  Would she grow and develop normally?  Would she be in pain?  Those thoughts made me ache for her.

I wanted to fix it all.  I wanted to take her pain.  I wanted to carry her crosses.

But...in those early moments, was it anything like I thought it would be...the things I was afraid of?  No.  Not at all.  In fact, the love for her was fierce...deeper than I knew I had in me...more life-giving than I could imagine.

And, that's when I realized the birth of a child with special needs wasn't a curse.  Instead, it was a tremendous gift.  God chose us.  He gave Agnes to us.  And, while I don't for a minute believe God causes pain or punishes us with trials, I do believe He uses them to bring us closer to Him.  And, that He has already.

I was asked if I did anything during pregnancy to cause this.  And, while I can't honestly say I haven't thought of that, the very next day a man I didn't even know shared the story of the blind man in the gospels...the one in which His disciples asked if he or his parents had sinned to cause this, and to which Jesus replied: "Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him."

It is so the works of God might be made visible through Agnes.

Later that week, I was listening to a podcast from Father Mike Schmitz...and he said this:

The best is going to be the cross...for me and for you. The best is going to be denying this part of me who wants to run away and say yes to the Father’s will...for me and for you.  

In our love for others we want to spare them...pain, difficulties, struggle. But that means our love would spare them from greatness. It would spare them from the opportunity to love heroically. It would spare them from the opportunity to lay down their lives out of love.

In our desire to make things easier for them, we would give them mediocrity and rob them
of the opportunity to live and to live heroically.

Love demands sacrifice.

My tendency as a mother is to want to take this pain and "being different" away from Agnes.  But, in doing so, I would rob her of the opportunity to use her crosses to bring others closer to Him.  And, to do that would be to play God.

So, instead, these last five weeks, we have said so many prayers...begging for healing and understanding...asking God to show us how best to care for Agnes and how to lighten her burden...all the while praying we use what He has given her and us to bring greater glory to Him.

Agnes may never receive the miracle of full healing, but there are miracles happening all around us...in the prayers offered, the the mindsets changed, in the finding of excellent medical care, and in the humbling of her mother.

The diagnosis I used to run from in fear is the one I'm thanking God for now.  I'm so humbled and honored that God chose us to be Agnes's parents.  I just pray I'm worthy of such a gift.

I didn't want a child with special needs.  I needed one.

She is how He desires.  And, that, is perfect.

He is Risen...and Lent is Over

Well, Lent is over.  And, once again, I feel like I kind of failed.  I know that's an issue with pride, and that, in and of itself, needs improvement.  I didn't give anything up.  I was only going to read my Lenten study and pray more.  Guess how many days I even made it with my study this year?  I think 14?  And, I hear over and over again that we need to let Him write our Lent.  But, sometimes it's so hard for me to not view that just as an excuse to not try or a cop-out.  Isn't this supposed to be a period of fasting from the things that pull us away from Him?  Aren't we supposed to turn our eyes and heart back to Him and His passion over and over again and in some way feel that in our own lives?

Instead, maybe I only participated in two weeks of my study.  Maybe I ate more junk than I typically do during ordinary season.  Maybe I even did more internet shopping than I have in months.  And, that plan to not yell at my children maybe even got worse than it was before Ash Wednesday?

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

I had it all wrong.  I seem to always.  I want to focus on making me better.  I want to correct all of my failings (and believe me, there are a lot).  I want to be less addicted to sugar, online shopping, yelling and failing again and again to make prayer a prominent part of my daily life.

I want to fix me.  

But, I can't.

He can.  But, I can't seem to let Him, and I have no idea why.  And as every Ash Wednesday rolls back around, I give it my hardest try (or maybe I don't)...but again it ends in a way I don't want it to...with a greater inward focus and an even farther distance from He who is calling me closer.

Lent was truly given to me this year.  It came in the form of the death of a grandmother, maybe ten days that weren't infested with sickness (we finally fumigated our home, ha!), and exhaustion.  It came in the form of having many opportunities to work on my patience with my children yet missing them almost every time.

And, in the stillness, I know He was saying, "Little one, I'm giving you so many opportunities to come to Me...to lay it all down and let me envelop you in my love.  Stop trying so hard to do it all on your own.  Humble yourself and come to Me for help.  That is all I want...you...to come to Me."  But, I didn't.

It was late one evening that I was spent and ready to fall flat into bed that I picked up He and I.  I had not journaled, read my Bible, or prayed silently in days.  I really just wanted to sleep but I felt guilty.  And this is what I read...(Jesus' words to his daughter, Gabrielle)

"Keep in mine this prayer, 'Lord deliver me from anxiety about trifles.  Everything is insignificant apart from God whose life in you should daily seek to increase.'"

"With your merit in mind, I wanted you to seek Me in the darkness and to discover Me again in the half-light.  Light untold will be for later on.  Didn't I myself pass through dark hours when My divinity seemed to drift apart from My humanity?  How I fraternized with you, taking upon Myself all of your weaknesses, My poor little ones.  I was indeed 'a man' among men.  And even before my passion, I knew what suffering was.  I loved it for the love of you, My children.  Love it for the love of Me.  I'll transform it into transformations for others, and into glory for you, since you find everything again in Heaven.  So take courage for suffering, My little children.  There are some people who can't do without suffering, so deeply have they experienced how it brings them close to Me."

"Then turn your sorrowful eyes upon Me.  Show Me your sufferings, My dear little ones.  You are already in My heart even though you thought you were so far from Me, so far.  Day by day, try to find Me in you, and there, like very little children, give Me the marks of tenderness that you would give to a mother or a beloved father.  How happy you will be when you have acquired this habit.  How sweet your life will become."

Love suffering.

Love suffering for the love of Him.

Got it, God.  Help me to turn my everything toward you.

My pride fills me up so much that I desire perfection and convince myself that He desires that, too.  And, while I do believe He wants us to strive after Him in the very best way we can, He doesn't want us to do it on our own.  We can't.  And, in thinking so, we don't need Him.  And, in failing over and over, He shows us that His mercy endures, and than only His hands can both carry His cross and ours.  

Forgive me, Lord.  And, help me.

We truly did have a blessed Easter.  Even in my frustrations with myself, I do know how much I have to be thankful for.  Thankful for this faith that continually pushes me closer to Him, for the trials that make me do these inner-critiques, and these seven people who show me what it means to be His. 

We spent the day at one of my most favorite Masses of the year (Christ the Lord is Risen Today will always be one of my favorites) next to Good Friday, ate a wonderful meal with family, and sat back and watched the joy of childhood.

I get caught up in myself too much and in trying to do it all right all the time, but the truth is, I don't even know what that is, and I just run myself ragged trying to be something that is impossible for me.  I'm going to try not to feel like a fraud.  I'm going to try not to busy myself just for the sake of being busy.  And, I'm going to try to let Him regain control of my life...if for nothing else than showing these sweet ones how to let Him love us.

Have the most blessed Easter season!  He. Is. Risen.  Alleluia!

Not Something You See Every Day

It has been a long winter.  Usually it's one of my favorite times of year.  But, it hasn't snowed here this year (the part that creates the coziness that I love).  And, we've been sick most of it.  Flu B, strep, stomach bug, ear infections, RSV, Flu A and sinus infections.  We've had something every week since January 5th, with a few days of reprieve here and there.  None of it was anything we couldn't handle, and as always, it could be so much worse.  Then, my grandmother passed away.  It's all life, I know -- it just seems like it has made for an interesting first part of 2018.

I mentioned it to a friend the other day, and her response was, "Have you been praying for patience lately?"

Umm, yes.

Based on her follow-up, praying for patience isn't for the faint of heart.  In fact, it's almost like asking God to test your strength.  But man, do I need that patience.

I feel like I start my days thinking, "I will react calmly and lovingly to everything today."  And, then someone opens their mouth, and I'm already failing.

I get tired of telling my kids to quit fighting, quit arguing, and quit pouting.  I struggle with the homeschooling days that take much longer than they should simply because a task isn't fun.  I, sadly, even get frustrated when at times, I cannot walk because a crying baby is attached to my leg.

Yes, I love these little ones with every ounce of my being, and I pray daily that they know that.  But, some days (and those days seem an awful lot lately), I know I'm not showing them enough.  I know my actions are glazed over with a coating of frustration and irritation that even those two-year-old eyes aren't blind to.  And, I hate that.

I've made Lenten promises that I don't even remember (that's how great Lent is going this year).  And, I feel like I wake up to the same resolutions to make this day a new day, only to make the exact same resolution the next because of a(nother) failed attempt.  Every day I think, oh "I'll do this or that today" and almost every night comes, and I haven't done it, and I just go to bed instead.  It feels somewhat like the same day on repeat.

I haven't picked up my camera in weeks.  I haven't blogged in longer.  The winter projects I wanted to do...undone.  How I wanted to give more energy to homeschooling and making it fun...still haven't.  The time I wanted to carve out just for Jesus...still not carved out.  So, here we are, almost mid-March.  And, there isn't much to show for it around here.  

Except this...

This is how I found these two the other day.  Reading together.  Sitting together calmly.  Even sharing books without hitting, screaming or otherwise hurting the other.

I took it all in.  

You see, I get in these little funks here and there where I feel like either I'm not doing things "right" or I'm not doing enough.  I'm not sad.  I'm not throwing a pity party (please know that as you read).  I'm just getting this out there on paper, because sometimes, it just feels better.  I know how blessed we are, and I truly love my life.

Sometimes, like this winter, I just wish I was doing a bit better job of it all. 

Maybe I just need to pray for detachment instead ;)

Defining our Worth

I think I've written exactly two (maybe three?) blog posts in the last few weeks.  I have six in my drafts - does that count?  But, they are waiting on edited photos, and those edited photos are waiting on my free time, and my free time is waiting on...you get the picture.

Life is busy.  Not just for me.  For everyone.

But here's the thing: I'm making it so.  Even if I know I'm doing more important things than editing photos and blogging, I'm still plagued by the lack of productivity in these (and other) areas.  I don't want to miss a day of my 365 project.  I don't want to miss a week of the 52 project.  I don't want the laundry to pile up.  I don't want a dish to ever be in the sink.  I don't want the crumbs on the floor to be there an extra minute.  And, I don't want to fall behind in any "news" on my social media feeds.

So, I go about my days rushed...to get school done, to make all the meals, to leave the granite island spotless, to take the photos, to switch out the laundry, to keep everything in order all the time.  I don't always succeed with these self-imposed ideals, yet I rarely let it go.  I have hundreds of pictures to go through, and instead of going to sleep at night happier knowing that I actually got my Bible reading and rosary in for the day, I'm kicking myself that I didn't get those blog posts ready...for the fourteenth day in a row (or whatever task's ink still lies on the page without a line through it's core).

And, while I'm doing whatever important thing I'm doing, my mind is thinking of what I'll be doing next.

What is it?  I think I'm afraid of letting go.  I think it's a matter of being in control.  What will happen if my laundry piles up?  If the floor isn't vacuumed every day?  If I don't blog for months?  You get the picture.

Nothing.

In fact, I think it would be an extreme lesson in humility for me if I let things go at times.  Because right now, I feel like if I get too far behind, I will never catch up!  And, truth be told, I feel like I accomplished nothing for the day when I do so.

However, I've been working through the Blessed is She Lent journal written by Elizabeth Foss.  She is brilliant, people.  Brilliant!  And, this journal appears to have been written just for me (although I feel that everyone who reads it might say the same).  Sunday, I read this: "To rest is an act of faith.  It means we honestly believe that our existence is not dependent on our activity."

Boom.

Truth be told, I read it on Monday because I had too much going on on Sunday to do it.  If that doesn't smack me right between the eyes, I don't know what will.

I have got to find a way to fulfill the duties of my vocation without attaching my self-worth to what I get done in a 24-hour period.

Yes, as a wife and mother, I feel that I should feed my family, and provide a peaceful environment in which to grow.  To me, cleanliness is a part of that peace.  But, I must daily remind myself that my laundry bin does not have to be empty every day, and if I don't blog for weeks on end, I won't forget the memories of my children's early years.

And, even if I do, it will be okay, too.

Because right now, I'm not exemplifying peace for my children.  And, it all begins here.

So, instead of desiring to be in total control, have it all together all the time, and always have something to do...I'm trying to let God have His rightful place in my heart...and thus my home.  And, like anything, this will probably be a long, continuous road...but one well worth it!

Pray for me, as I will for you.

Online Friends

A few weeks ago, I received these precious booties for our little boy.  When I opened the letter that accompanied them, tears filled my eyes.  They were from a friend.  Not one whom I'd ever had a long conversation with.  Not one whom I had hugged or even met...instead, an online friend.  

The note was simple but heartfelt.  Months earlier, when I was trying to promote my Etsy shop, a dear friend (another online friend who I have actually met) hosted a giveaway of one of my prints.  In order to gain an entry into the contest, one needed to comment with what print was their favorite and why.

The friend who sent me the booties commented that a photo I had taken of a nursing cow and her brand new baby calf had really resonated with her due to the fact that she had recently discovered she was pregnant, but at the time she was writing, she had just lost her precious baby.  I was in the same position, but I hadn't lost mine.

So, then came this package...days before my due date.  And, in the note she said she had been praying for me throughout the pregnancy and wanted my baby to have these little booties, perhaps a set she had hoped for her own.  Right now they are in my hospital bag, and they are something I'll cherish forever, knowing that even in her immense pain, she thought to share a token of love for my time of joy.

Which made me think...this online community has become such a treasure to me.  When I first started blogging, I found it really odd to be sharing my heart with a world of people I had never met, and still so many I never will.  Sometimes if I think about it too much, it makes me want to stop.  But, instead of that today, I want to say thank you.

Thank you for being a group of friends and support that I never really knew I needed.  We don't always live in places where we can get together with friends in the same phase of life with the same ups and downs.  We are not always surrounded by people with shared views and values.  And, sometimes that can get lonely.  But, I've found that here.  And, even though it isn't a date over coffee or a glass of wine, sharing the joys and struggles of our daily lives, a quick comment, email or even chat can serve almost the same purpose.

I've met women who have encouraged me in different walks of motherhood when I've felt alone.  I've read others stories and have been inspired by the way they have chosen to face and carry their crosses.  I've been reassured time and time again that I'm never alone in my frustrations, day-to-day glitches or concerns about parenting.  I've also been so happily assured that others are sharing in my joys as well.  And the best part...some of these online women have become friends I now know personally, whose hugs I've received and whose laughter I've witnessed.

And, while this isn't the way friendships were formed decades ago, I am thankful for this community today.  A professor of mine in graduate school was so very adamant about never using the term "real life" - as if any part of our lives wasn't "real" - so I don't use that term today.  Instead, I'll say that some might not consider these online relationships to be true relationships, lacking a face-to-face connection.  However, after having been a part of so very many blessings stemming from my little piece of the internet, I'd have to sorely disagree.

Sweet internet friend, these little booties mean just as much to me as if you'd handed them to me at the close of a lunch date.  Thank you.  Thank you for your love, your prayers and your friendship.  I will forever cherish it.

Advent with a Mean Mom

If you're wondering what it is like during the holidays around these parts...let me tell you (again!). 

So...as with anything I deem important, I get a vision in my mind about what all I want to do, and how special I want to try to make things for my kids, and well, it might not work out exactly as planned.  

Advent started off with a bang.  I made popovers (which I've never done before but I highly recommend now with some honey and butter), and I opened my advent journal from Blessed is She (available for digital download still).

I didn't actually read the journal at the beginning of the day, but let me tell you, I should have.

Instead, I woke up a little on the easily-irritated side.  But, we pushed on anyway.  We got out the decorations (besides the tree ones because we don't have our tree yet).

Immediately, the kids tore into the boxes (when I has explicitly said to wait so we could do one at a time - I mean, come on, the oldest is only six and Christmas decorations might be just a bit exciting).

They set up the Nativity...

...and then I put down my camera because between taking photos, I was sternly warning them of what not to do.

I also had a very specific routine planned for the evening...opening an Advent book, having a cup of hot chocolate, and hanging our Jesse Tree ornament.

Would you believe that they really didn't pay a bit of attention during this very important reading??? Or that they might have just constantly asked for more peppermint sticks?!

And, this one maybe yelled the entire time.

And, the next night (and the night after that) really didn't go much better in terms of them being enlightened with the beauty of what's to come?

Peter's face might say it all.

Or his...

And, again, my journal sits on the table waiting for me to slow down, take a peek and truly give Him His proper place.

I know I'm half-way joking about this, but really, I stink at the "important" stuff.  I want so, so badly for it all to go so well...to make memories for them like I have of my childhood.  I expect too much.  I don't necessarily do too much, but even if it's super simple, I want there to be meaning.  The funny thing is, I don't do any of it for anyone else to know about.  It's not like it's a "keeping up with the Joneses" thing.  Instead it's a keeping up with Britt's idealism thing, and that's what makes it all so dumb.  The truth is, these little ones are just excited to be a part of anything, and it's special to them in a much more basic level than I can understand anymore, sadly.  They need a momma who is smiling during this season, not one who is yelling at them or faking it through gritted teeth.  But, sometimes I just can't figure out how to stop.

I just want it all to be good.  I want to finish my photo editing and be able to take a breath during this season with them before we enter the season of life with a newborn.  I want John Paul's December birthday to still feel important.  I want to make the cookies we always make during Christmas.  I want to buy the gifts that will let others know just how special they are to us.  I want our freezer to be full of meals early, in the event that this little boy shows up before his due date.  I want to get down on their level and help them appreciate the love and care that goes into giving and the thankfulness that comes with receiving.  I want to use Advent to prepare our home and hearts for the life-changing gift that comes on Christmas.  

What I want is good.  My execution of it all...not so much.  I stay up too late trying to get things done so I don't have to do them during the day.  So, during the day, I'm lacking a bit of rest, and I snap more easily, have "less time" for them and wish I would have just let some of it go the night before. Then, the night comes and I think "Oh, I can get this done and have a bit more time tomorrow" and the cycle continues.  

This isn't Britt's pity party (although I've had those from time to time).  This is more of the real Britt. The one who I'd venture to say knows what to do, just not how to do it.  I don't know exactly what these next three plus weeks will look like.  My prayer is that I shift my focus...to that of being a better mom/example, even if that means not doing things to get there.  Because when they look back...when I look back...I want to have yelled less, been stressed less, and cared less about making every minute memory worthy, even if it means doing less.  Instead I want to live more, sit back and watch more, and truly leave these weeks open for God to move more in this home.

I've got a long, long way to go.  But, maybe this admitting is the first step in getting there!

Here's to a little more love and a little less stress as we celebrate this glorious time of year.

Confessions: Fear of Missing Out

Oh life, sometimes it is funny.

I've been up late nights editing photos, and in those hours of complete quiet and stillness, my mind just gets away from me.  And, with it goes my heart at times.

I feel like I sometimes hold too fast to the what ifs (both past and future).

When I was a senior in high school, I was accepted into every school I applied for, and I took an offer from Harvard.  I spent my senior year asking what would happen if I didn't get in, and then I spent the following year (that I had taken off to serve as a state FFA officer) asking what if I couldn't handle it. So...I reapplied to Texas A&M and spent the majority of my college years there.  It was where I needed to be, for so many reasons, but why do I still wonder what if?

After college I went to work at the White House for the Bush Administration.  I stayed less than a year.  My grandfather became ill, and I was worried about what might happen to him or what might happen to my career mentality if I stayed in the District too long.  I was also not quite sure I was good enough for the job.  Now I sometimes wish I would have given it more time.

I went to grad school.  I really just wanted to be married and have a family, but it wasn't in the cards at the time.  Midway through that first semester my grandfather did pass away.  And I feel like I coasted through the next year and a half, using grad school as a place holder for my time until I found what I really wanted  I look back and wonder why I didn't put more effort into it and what that said about me as a student.

After that, I started a job with a child abuse response agency.  Instead of looking at it with the eyes of helping these precious children whose innocence was taken way too early, I became burdened by the knowledge of the sickness of those who abused them, and I turned inward, losing a lot of faith and trust in people.  I only remained there a year before my heart simply couldn't handle it anymore. Again, I look back and wish I would have tried a bit harder.

Honestly there are days when I want to call my old bosses and professors up and apologize.  While they may never know that I had more to give, I do, and there are days it plagues me that I wasn't at my best.  Why?  I have no idea.  Maybe the late mights.  Maybe the need to just admit it to move on. Maybe because I don't want to do that again.

I don't want to become so immersed in this photography and social media world with blogging that I am not giving my very best to those whose lives I really need to be making a difference in.

I finally have my husband and my children...what I've always wanted...and I don't want to throw that away.

I don't want to look back on these years with them at home and feel like I do about my first few jobs and grad school.  I don't want to think that I missed the mark with them as well.

So, as I'm editing and questioning every aspect of this silly little business (my ability, the time, the opportunity cost) and my presence on social media (am I narcissistic, shouldn't I just let it all go, etc), I feel it comes down to this...the fear of missing out.  Am I missing out on parts of motherhood that I should be more attuned to?  Or, if I give these things up, will I be missing out on using my voice for something else God has planned?

I truly don't know.  It all boils down to trust...that if I'm praying to do the right thing and asking for His guidance, I'll be where I need to be even if at times it doesn't quite feel like it.  I'm the person who would always prefer it all in writing, and while I know that will never happen, it doesn't helping in my questioning.

So to the fear of missing out...well, we'll always be missing out on something, but then finding beauty in where we are and not always wondering about the results of a decision made in the opposite direction...maybe that's what we can hope for.  Or, what I can hope for.

Because, while I wish I could go back and rewrite a few things, or in reality, just add a bit more effort and a little less worry to situations, I can't.  And, right now, I love where I am so much.  I just don't want these late nights of thinking to get my mind going so fast that I make these times become what those moments in my past are now.

Maybe I just need a good nap, ha!

Confessions: Catching up, Motherhood, and Too Many Words

Does it ever feel like the second you get caught up, the piles of to-dos mount again?  That's how it's been feeling here.  I feel like I just get a blog post ready, and something (or someone) else needs my attention.  Usually, those attention grabbers pull me toward more important things, so the interruption is welcomed (hesitantly, at first).  In saying that, I haven't read some of my favorite blogs in awhile, and I feel behind.  Crazy, right?!  On top of that, I've not commented in forever.  Sorry!  It's funny how the littlest things (like those) can seem heavy sometimes, and it's even crazier that not blogging, reading, or commenting can cause feelings of inadequacy.  I can't believe I just typed that, but I did. 

Anyway, I'm just jotting a ton of things down here in this post as a way to catch up quickly!  Here goes:

I'm on day 22 of Whole30.  Before you think that's a big feat, let me remind you that it's my third try, haha.  So, I've had a few special (for me) snacks around the house.  Do you know what happens when you do that?  Your kids find them extra special, too...

I did a little eye make-up tutorial for Olivia this Monday.  It's nothing professional, but if you want to know my daily routine, check it out here.

When you live in the country (or anywhere really) you're internet randomly goes down.  That doesn't go over well when it's a day you plan to get a lot of emails responded to.  It happened yesterday.  I owe several of you an email, maybe from weeks ago (I'm getting on that)!  So, rather than catching up, we did a little of this...

...I sent the boys outside with watercolors.  Carter and Peter's faces were clean.  Hmmm.  "Let's paint John Paul!"

Have I mentioned how in love with this little thing I am?  Seriously, I cannot get enough of her. Having a girl is fun in ways I didn't expect, but my absolute favorite thing thus far is seeing all of the boys around her.  Everyone is in love.

It's funny how tastes change.  I never really liked southwest decor growing up.  Well, I shouldn't say that.  Really, it just wasn't for me.  But, I feel these make the entrance to our house so much prettier. I'm a changed woman.

Do you have an Erin Condren planner?  If so, did you know until November 1st, you can order a new free cover?  Use the code FREECOVER.  

I'm shooting my first wedding this weekend.  Tiffany is getting married, and she asked me and a couple others to take photos.  If you think about it, on Saturday, say a prayer all goes well as this beautiful bride begins such a holy sacrament!

Some days I think I have split personalities.  Let me explain.  I've always loved kids and have always wanted to grow our family (His plan, permitting).  Some days I walk around thinking, "I've got this!" Others, I am quickly put in my place.  Like this weekend when Peter had a meltdown in a restaurant full of people and screamed in the car for over an hour until he calmed down.  Maybe I should tell you we were 6+ hours from home, no naps had taken place in two days, and it was past his bedtime.  Are those all just excuses?   But, what if I told you something similar happened two days later with Carter.  Granted, we had just driven that 6+ hours back home (same situation, different day, different child).  During those moments (especially when not in the comfort of my own home), I question everything.  Every thing.  Should we be disciplining differently?  Are they watching too much TV?  How do I get through to him?  Am I giving them enough attention?  The list goes on.  But, if I dig deeply, something might edge to the lead in terms of what really bothers me in these moments.  It comes down to this:  others think I'm in over my head (don't they have to be thinking this?).  If I'm honest, some days I feel that I am.  But, at the end of those days, I know (and am always reassured) that it is all worth it.  Truly, I feel that.  I adore these kids.  I love the chance to learn from them.  I love being made so raw...seeing so very clearly where I am weak (I just prefer it to not be in public, ha!).  Love it in a, "God, I need your help, this is getting deep" kind of way. Obviously, I worry too much about what others think.  I am selfish. And, I want a level of control of my life that will never be mine.  Those deep, gut-check moments of clarity are brilliant and give reason to the doubt.  However, they don't always make the moments any more bearable.  Yes, I want my children to be "good" because I want others to see that we're trying our very best to raise them the "right" way.  Yes, I want them to behave, because I so desperately want people to know that even on the hardest days, I'm not throwing in the towel or saying "no" to other little ones, if we're so blessed. Yes, I want them to act in public as they do the majority of time at home because I want someone to truly say, deep in their heart, that they support us as parents, that we aren't crazy, that we aren't irresponsible, and that they see the blessing in these little ones, too. But, the truth is, none of that matters.  It doesn't.  What does is realizing that I cannot and will not make it trying so desperately to seek approval from anyone other than Him.  Another truth: life with four kids, ages 0-4, is demanding.  It's exhausting.  And, it's downright difficult at times.  But, I keep coming back for more. Why?  For the little moments.  For the kisses and hugs and "God bless you and keep you safe, Mommy"s.  For the joy that comes in seeing them reach up to the Cross and ask to kiss "Jejus."  For the moments, however far between, that come with a deep sigh of relief and the thought, "I've got this."  Why?  Because. this. is. my. vocation.  These little ones are bringing me closer and closer to Christ, no matter the purging that it takes for me to get there.  It is hard.  But it is good.  So very good.  By the end of this vignette, I'm back to thinking, "I've got this."  Pray for me.

With all of that said, the idea of balance comes in.  Why do I blog?  Why in the world am I even considering starting a side photography business right now?  What - you just got a new puppy? (Yes, we did).  How in the world will we manage if we homeschool?  Should I try to grow my blog and my presence via social media?  Does ANY of that even matter?  Oh wait, I need to cook?  And clean? And pay bills?  Blah blah blah. You've heard it all.  Luckily, you get to hear about trying to manage all of those things from someone other than me because I'm sure I question everything relating to balance at least once a day.  I'm looking for an answer!  Olivia is sharing a post here on The Fisk Files this week about that very thing.  Balance.  Don't miss it.  

Finally (promise I'm stopping), I've been really debating starting a Capsule Wardrobe.  I know you've heard of it.  It's all the rage, thanks to Caroline.  Jenna has done it.  This Jenna has, too!  Kendra's doing it.  Grace, Blythe, are you next?  I want to do it.  I think I will.  But, I'm not so sure when I'll find the time to squeeze that one in.  Maybe a babysitter is in order while I line my closet out and simplify my life (and my materialistic addictions).  Doesn't Caroline make it look so cool?  I'm sure it may have just a tiny bit to do with how beautiful she is and how put together she seems!  Anyway, it's fun to think about.  And, will be even more fun to do!  

This post is finally over.  Thanks for listening.