Hetherington Happenings

On Observing Lent

It is a cold grey beginning outside my window as I awaken this Ash Wednesday. The sky seems to carry the heaviness that my lungs and head cannot shake from this infection that lingers as it sucks all my energy away. I will myself out of bed to prepare my body and mind for another day raising two boys who apparently have an endless supply of energy.  I realize it is Ash Wednesday and I need to make my final decision: What am I giving up for Lent?  Sugar or Facebook?

Did you just laugh at me?

Sugar or Facebook?

Yes, Sugar and Facebook!  Two things that have made my life sweeter in so many good ways. Yet two things that eat at my life; two things I can’t seem to live without. One eats away at my body draining me of physical energy; the other consumes my emotions and time, draining me of energy I should spend elsewhere.

So after feeding my hungry boys Apple Carrot Cake with Yogurt and downing my super green Greensicle Smoothie, I dropped the boys at school and headed back to my quiet corner to do some soul searching and decision making. 

I read this from the Mosaic Bible Lent Devotion:

“For some Christians, Lent has always been a part of their spiritual life, but for others it is unfamiliar. Lent is a season leading up to Easter, a time when Christians have historically prepared their hearts for Easter with reflection, repentance, and prayer. Lent begins with Ash Wednesday and proceeds for forty days, excluding Sundays, and culminating with Good Friday and Holy Saturday. Since Sundays are weekly celebrations of the resurrection of Jesus, the six Sundays in Lent are not counted as part of the forty-day season, which focuses on introspection, self examination, and repentance.

 Many Christians choose to celebrate a fast throughout the season of Lent, but the focus is not on depriving themselves of something as much as it is on devoting themselves to God and his purposes in the world. “

It was this last phrase that sealed the choice in my heart: “the focus is not on depriving themselves of something as much as it is on devoting themselves to God and his purposes in the world. “

Facebook, I need to let you go for 40 days. 

Immediately, all sorts of justifications & reasons of how useful Facebook is flew through my head in a split second. Which only served to solidify my decision. If it hurts so much to let it go, then I really do need to sacrifice it.

I want to use the time to focus on devoting to God. Not because I am holier person than you. Its because I tend to not be a holier person that I need to focus on devoting to God. Yes I am a good wife: but I could be better.  And yes, I AM a great mom to my boys: but I could be the best. Bottom line: I certainly have room to add some holiness to my lifes routine.

Relatively speaking, Lent is new for me. I grew up in conservative Baptist and Evangelical churches all my life and never ever once did I hear the word “Lent”.  Never. It wasn’t until I spent a few years in a Presbyterian (GASP!!!) church that I began to understand the significance of Lent and the beautiful opportunity of spending 40 days preparing my heart for the celebration of Easter. 

And truly, the Lord knows more than I can express, that these next 40 days of my life are going to be quite significant. A little extra time to breathe and devote myself to Him will be a wise choice of my time.

I hope you’ll take a moment to reflect on your own life.  Still need a little guidance on this whole “Lent” thing?  Check out the You Version Bible and free apps and follow the options for some different Lent Devotionals to get you started on your own journey.

I’m looking forward to 40 days of sweeter communion, quiet moments and asking God for wisdom.

Real life lessons

Each morning at breakfast I spend a few moments learning Catechism and reading the Bible with my boys. We’ve been going through the book “My 1st Book of Questions and Answers” by Carine MacKenzie. I highly recommend it if you are seeking to give your children a foundation of Truth.

This morning instead of our usual review, we ended up with a life application. A sobering life application that brought me to tears (...and I’ve noticed that anytime momma cries, the boys sober up and listen very astutely).  A life application I never, ever imagined I’d be sharing with them; one that grieves me deeply even as I write this.

My extended family is deeply ingrained in Penn State. Not just ingrained - - they are emotionally attached to all things Penn State. My father in law was on the Board of Trustees, my in-laws have held primo season football tickets forever, my husband and his brothers attended PSU, my nieces have and are attending, and my brother in law is currently on the Board.  And after more than ten years of all things Penn State, even I, a proud alumni of The Master’s College in California, have a fondness and admiration for Joe Paterno. It’s been an emotional week around our house. 

As we sat down to breakfast, Mikhal, who is wise beyond his 6 years, asked why is Joe Pa so sad (his photo is on the front page of our paper - hundreds of miles from Pennsylvania). Thus I sat down at the table with my boys and began this real life story: 

Joe Paterno is a very important man. (We know mom.) And Joe heard that his friend, another coach, did something bad and mean to someone else. (What mom?)  This coach was mean to other people and he hurt them.  Not Joe Pa. He didn’t hurt anyone.  But Joe Pa knew that his friend was mean and Joe Pa knew that he should make a right choice to do something hard. (This is when tears started rolling down my cheeks.)

And now this bad man is going to live in jail, and Joe Pa can’t be with his team at anymore games. (What!?! Thats not fair mom! How can we watch a game? Who will play with them?  Amazing questions from 6 and 8 year olds.)

I queitly went on to say I know its very sad and it doesn’t seem fair, but when you know to do right and you choose to do wrong it is sin. And sin always has a consequence. I’m very sad that this has happened to Joe Pa. (Still crying.) And I wish so much it wasn’t so. But when you see or hear about a friend doing something mean to another person, you should always do something to stop it.  (Full on river flowing down my face, so the boys are very attentive.) Now Joe Pa can’t be with the football team he loves, his family is sad, your cousins are sad, mommy & daddy are sad.

Max pipes up and says mom, “its just like in our catechism.”  Which blessed my heart greatly to know they are indeed grasping these truths little by little.  It is very much our catechism:  Man has a sin nature; God is holy. All have sinned. Love God most of all.  Love other people and treat everyone like our neighbor.

If everyone involved in this horrible situation had loved God most of all and treated other people like they wanted to be treated, NONE of this would have happened. 

Not speaking to my boys any longer, just commiserating to you: I’m just sick that its all happening: to the victims, to Joe, to the football players, to my dear family who are students.  And that things “happened” that are so hideous the only way to describe it to my young children is to say “a man did mean things to another person”.

There are many, many ways to look at this scenario:

As a reader of the news, I’m ill, nauseated, I’m angry, that it was allowed to go on for so many years. How could that man do such things to children!!!

As a friend, how would I feel if someone told me one of my friends was doing something so egregious to others? I’d go ask my friend and if my friend denied it, I’d believe them. And if I had proof, I’d go to the authorities while my heart was breaking.  Joe Paterno was between a rock & a hard place with his friend. Did he choose wisely? I can’t answer that.  I don’t know what Joe knows in the quiet of his heart.

As a person connected to Penn State, I’m heartbroken that the man who was a father/grandfather figure to thousands is ending his amazing career this way. To quote Joe “This is a tragedy. This is one of the great sorrows of my life. With the benefit of hindsight, I wish I had done more.”

As a mom, I want all of those involved to pay dearly for what they did or allowed to be done to a child. I want revenge and justice. Mostly revenge. I want that offender castrated in public!

As a child of God, I want the offender to be brought to justice and I want to pray for all those involved. I want the one who did it, those who knew and those who should have known to fall on their knees asking for forgiveness in this life and mercy in the life to come. I pray for healing for the victims, that they will find hope in the everlasting arms of a Heavenly Father. For truth to reign. For hope and healing to flow freely in the years ahead on the campuses of Penn State.

The moral of the story to my children this morning was this: 

Every action we make has a consequence for good or for evil, that will affect us and the people we love.  There is nothing we do that is hidden from the sight of God. Ever.

As the simple song from Sunday School says:
“Oh be careful little mouth what you say, oh be careful little mouth what you say, for the Father up above He is looking down in love so be careful little mouth what you say.
Oh Be careful little ears what you hear....
Oh be careful little hands what you do...
Oh be careful little eyes what you see...”

Once Upon A Family

Once upon a time there was a princess who loved to write. She loved to have a cup of tea, a quiet room filled with Laura Ashley furniture and scents of jasmine, a book in one hand, a Bible near by and a journal with blank pages. She would spend peaceful hours alone pondering, writing and reading, growing deeper in her faith and at peace with all around her. 

Then one day prince charming came and swept her away with tales of hopeful tomorrows, candlelit evenings, sunny days, blue oceans and starry skies in a castle made of love. And the princess was still full of joy, reading, writing and growing deeper in her faith.

One morning she awoke and found the Gardner had entrusted two tiny seeds to her care. She was overjoyed as she set aside her pondering and writing to begin caring for these seeds. And the princess who had never had seeds of her own, was full of gratitude and joy.

The seeds began to sprout, and as they did she found they needed more sunlight, more nourishment, more cultivating. So she set aside her reading and joyfully watered as the sprouts were now alive and full of life. And the princess was flying like the wind, always busy, always moving.

Soon it was spring and the new growth took on a life of its own and these sprouts were real boys bursting with energy, with wonder, with emotion, and the princess was full of joy, yet oh too tired to read or ponder.

The little boys began to grow and the princess realized they were actually the souls of men incased in these young bodies waiting for nuturing so they could break free of these boyish shells and become men of character. Still it was the summer of their lives, and these young boys were in need of wisdom, guidance, faith, hope and emotion, so the princess set aside her writing and her reading, and she was very tired.

One cold autmn morning as the golden leaves were carried to the ground by the chill of a frosty wind,  the princess realized how exhausted she was as there was more to do than she could handle. So she set aside her tools and she found a quiet place and she went alone. And with a cup of tea, a quiet room, a journal in one hand and a Bible on her lap, she sat down as a long slow exhale escaped her lungs and she gave her seeds, her boys, back to the One who gave them to her. And she pondered the many, many blessings her prince charming had brought into her life, the castle she lived in, the laughter that surrounded her, she realized that unless she went away for moments of quiet, of reading, and of writing, she could not be the caretaker these boys needed.

So as the princess awakens to a new day, soft white snow sparkles on the branches of green surrounding her castle, she rises with joy, still tired, but alive with the hope and knowledge of the One who gives her strength for each day. She gazes out her windows pondering the greatness of a Heavenly Father who blesses each morning with lovingkindness and kisses each night with peace. She reaches for her pen in the quietness of the sunrise and begins to write.

Happy Birthday Max!

This week I celebrated the birth of a boy who changed my life in more ways than I could ever imagine! Six years ago in June we celebrated this little guys 2nd birthday as we left Moscow Russia, arrived in Frankfurt Germany, touched down in Portland Oregon making him a US Citizen, then drove 6 hours and introduced him into our home. Six years ago.

And here it is 2011 and he is 8 years old. He is still full of energy. Still full of inquisitive curiousity that is never quite satisfied. Still happy, and thankfully, healthier than ever.

It has been an adventure, these past six years. Adventure is probably putting it mildly. This little child with all his disabilities has been my biggest thorn in the flesh. Many, many times I've cried out to God asking Him, "Why?"  "Why did this have to happen to Max?...And why in the world did you ever think I am the one chosen to be his mother?"  And I'll admit, the latter question wasn't asked while dancing the Magnicant like Mary filled with wonder at her chosen position.  

 
If you've followed our family, you'll know that the past six years have been filled with tears, with appointments with every kind of PhD, MD, OD, LSCW, MAP, SLP, OT, PT, ThM you could ever list. We've racked up medical bills that insurance companies refuse to pay. We've paid attorney fees, conference fees and  expenses that we weren't prepared for. We've tried special diets and supplements and vitamins. We've given Yoga, Qigong and other things I can't spell a try. We've invested in a room full of therapy toys. We've cleaned up messes made from food and other matter. We've fixed & repaired all sorts of things. We've moved. We've lost friendships. We've fought school districts. We've lost count of the babysitters we've scared off. We've tried. We've read books and sought advice. There is no length we haven't attempted when we thought it would bring him benefit.

So here we are, now in the present. Celebrating 8 years of his life. A life that has taught me how to laugh at simple things, how to trust the Lord with all my heart, how to play hard and sleep hard.

A life that has taught me that money is not important; that life itself is the richest gift of all.

...That grace abounds for each new day. That forgiveness always needs to be spoken.

A life that has taught me to try my best to speak softly and slowly, to hug and cuddle, and to not care what others think of me. A life that has given me boldness to speak up for those who don't have the ability to advocate for themselves.

A life that has taught me that one drink isn't worth the price paid for a lifetime of frustration and desperation.

A life that has shown that I do make a difference.

This precious young life has shown me an entire side of the compassion of my God that I never knew before.

These intense blue eyes show me a glimpse of eternity each day. Eyes that see good in everyone, eyes that desire peace, that long for love, that shine with excitement and intensity each morning. And eyes that glimmer with hope for each new sunrise to be bring a better day than the one before.

I can't always keep up with this kid, but at this moment, I thank God for putting him into my life.  God teaches us the deepest lessons of truth in our most painful seasons that we would otherwise wish away. Gods blessings do fall in the rain. And His strength is all I need for each moment.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Max!  You are loved!!!

Drudgery, dragons and daydreams

My son recently had a session at school on knights, princesses and dragons. They made sets and costumes and had great imagination play. And he came home singing "Puff the Magic Dragon" (yes, of Peter, Paul & Mary fame). Like me, you probably heard it before and like him, can mumble through the verses and belt out the chorus at the top of your voice.  So I decided to download it for him on my iPod.

I'm fully aware that there are urban legends about "paper" and "puff" and "draggin"... but, to my surprise, as a parent I actually listened to the words and I started sobbing as I heard the tale of little Jackie Paper and Puff, and thought of my own boys and how fast they grow.      Now, if you are my husband or brother, you are rolling your eyes muttering about hormones and pms and women...but if you have boys, you will read this and weep with me.

 

[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/p/peter_paul_mary/puff_the_magic_dragon.html ]

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff,
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff. oh

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.

Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a lookout perched on puffs gigantic tail,
Noble kings and princes would bow whenever they came,
Pirate ships would lower their flag when puff roared out his name. oh!

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.

A dragon lives forever but not so little boys
Painted wings and giant rings make way for other toys.
One grey night it happened, Jackie paper came no more
And puff that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain,
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his life-long friend, puff could not be brave,
So puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave. oh!

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.

 

Okay, deep breath...did you feel the sadness at how quickly little boys grow up?

I know today I'm frustrated at sucking up Lego's in the vacuum or stepping on them in barefeet. I'm tired of mopping up muddy footprints on a just cleaned floor, of refereeing arguments, wiping up vomit, sending frogs & lizards out of the kitchen, doing endless loads of never-ending piles of laundry, calming rages, finishing homework and grocery shopping.

But when I realize "dragons live forever, but not so little boys, painted wings and giant rings make way for other toys..."  I'm not ready for that to happen.

I still want hugs and wet kisses, snuggling with books and cocoa in front of the fireplace, little hands fitting into mine, and eyes that think I'm the most beautiful woman on earth, voices that say "I love you mom" no matter what friend is around, arms that long to be held, and little boys who seek me out for comfort.

 

 

 

It's so easy at this age to get caught up in the drudgery and mundane irritations of the moment. I plan to make the most of this summer, to daydream, to join every single moment of unscheduled adventures in the great outdoors with these two amazing boys while I am still their princess and they are my knights who frolick in the sun.

Of Crosses and Crowns

I love Easter, that it reminds us of the amazing truth - the uncrushable hope - that Jesus is alive. The cross was not the beginning nor was it the devastating end.  Hope started on earth in a stable in Bethlehem, it reached the depths of despair and darkness on a hill of Golgatha, but it burst forth in glorious joy on the morning Jesus resurrected from the tomb, and that hope continues as He is alive in heaven preparing a place for those who believe Him.

Easter causes me to reflect on many of the great hymns of the faith that I learned as a child. Hymns I want my children to know, to learn the words that bring faith, hymns that share hope.  Our hymn this week has been The Old Rugged Cross, and one of my favorite singers for this song is George Beverly Shea:

Download 07 The Old Rugged Cross

  I should tell you that Max has passion for music: music fills his soul, it flows from his heart non-stop to the extent that if he is awake, he is singing or humming with every breath.  After singing this hymn through one time in my not so angelic voice, Max began his 20-question inquiry. Which led me to breaking the song down into sections and explaining them to him.

On a hill far away....
Max: where is Jerusalem mom? how far away, like to Grandmas?

Stood an old rugged cross...
Max: I know this mom, its where Jesus was killed

The emblem of suffering and shame...
This took some careful ‘explaining on my part but he's a boy so all that killing and blood stuff peaks his interest and I truthfully told him it was the horrible way that the mean soldiers in Rome would kill the Christians and the prisoner that they didn't like. That it was very painful and very embarrassing because they took all your clothes away and left a person naked before hurting them. (snikers on his part)

For twas on that old cross...
same cross from long ago

That the dearest and best...
that's Jesus, the Son of God, he is the one who is the best

For a world of lost sinners was slain...
thats everybody, even you and me. Jesus loved us all that much.

So I'll cherish the Old Rugged Cross...
that means I'll think of it nicely and be thankful for what happened on the cross

Till my sufferings at last I lay down..
Just here my voice broke and I could only speak in a whisper to him as my emotions overwhelmed me with what the Truth of the cross really means for Max and children like him. I was supposed to be helping him understand when suddenly my heart was once again growing and learning new insights because of the special needs of this child.

“Sufferings”, I explained, are all the sad things we have to go through in life. Like your fetal alcohol. It's something you'll always have here on earth. I wish it would go away but it won't. And friends who get sick, and people who get hurt, and earthquakes that happen...those are all "sufferings".

I will cling to the Old Rugged Cross....
In a whispered still voice I said, "Max, the cross will always be your hope. That old cross where Jesus had to die, it is your hope, for today, for tomorrow, for everything"

And exchange it someday for a crown ....
Maxi, you have to suffering fetal alcohol on this earth and its not your fault, and I can't fix it. But one day God has promised that you will take that Fetal Alcohol and you will throw it down and get rid of it. And God promises you that he will give you a crown in heaven. A big, beautiful crown, shinyer and more sparkly than anything you ever seen. And you will get to wear that crown forever and ever and ever because you are Gods precious child and He loves you.

That my friends, is the hope found in Easter.

The Christmas Train

We were having so much fun on Christmas day that we forgot to get out the official Christmas train. Rick has this great train he sets up under the tree every year, with much anticipation and "help" from the boys. But on Christmas Eve, the real train (translated, the expensive grown-up) is brought out for 2 days. It's such a fun time I thought I'd share the evolution of our trainboard.

Of course it was the brainstorm of this amazing man to create it the first year we were married, here's what it began as in 2002 in our first home...

the muse for the board was our 8 month old nephew who was coming for Christmas and we didn't want him grabbing the trains, so Rick decided to place the train up out of reach, and place the tree stand on top of it. 

And here it is in 2005 when Max arrived

I love the look on his face in 2005 because it is the same intensity he has today

And moving on to 2006, Max continues to be enthralled and Rick added a second level of the village around the track...altho its kinda hard to see in this photo

And 2007 Max loves showing others how the train works

Here's the maker admiring his handiwork while Max drives...isn't it fabulous!

2008 and Max keeps growing, but never looses his love of trains

2009 shows the beautiful old house we had, and how perfect the train was for Christmas

The boys never tire of playing with the train...at any age

So here's what the base looks like waiting for the board to be set in place, and you can see the tree stand base on the top.  We don't have a patent yet, so feel free to copy and send us a donation.

Of course, this is the little box that brings all the fun

Yes, its a Pennsylvania engine

And a little Monopoly trivia...I grew up on the west coast and we always took a riding on the "Reading"  pronounced "reeding".  My dear hubby, being the Pennsylvania boy that he is, was appalled.  He says it's pronounced "redding".  We still have not come to an agreement.

But here's an engineer who doesn't care how you pronounce it, as long as he can drive it

first stop, head to the station

All aboard for the North Pole

Racing the train

around the curves

little red caboose behind the train

and into the tunnel...can anyone guess the significance of the year 1855 Rick painted on the tunnel?

We love this family tradition!

 

 

Its good to be back

I'm back...back to blogging, back to Bend, back to summer.  Can't believe how full the past week has been as we transition our life to a new, but familiar town, and get the boys into a new routine.  (I have a new email address and new mailing address, so send me a note if you need those updates.)

Yesterday I took the boys to the Farmers Market. I love this town!

Our first item was fresh, juicy Oregon strawberries...no sprays, just flavor.

 

Then my lil pea picker choose our next favorite: the snap peas....I can never buy enough of these!

 

Look at these amazing shades of green...

garlic stems

zucchini

 

green beans

And last, but not least, snack time...

The Golden Birthday Boy

June 7th, and 7 years old! Today as I pushed Max on the tire swing in our backyard park and listened to his laughter and giggles, I was amazed to realize how much he has grown in the past five years.

http://gallery.me.com/joyfullmom#100204/IMG_0310

(Sorry, you'll have to click on the above link to watch the video. It's not embedding and I'm too tired to deal with the why of it.)

What an adventure we have been on. It is not the path I imagined as we began the adoption process 7 years ago, yet it is a journey beyond my wildest imagination. I can honestly say, Max is the biggest trial & frustration in my life, while he is also the iron that sharpens my faith, the fire that purifies my life. I am at once emotionally drained by him, yet I learn my most intimate lessons from his life. He has brought me to my knees in tears of prayer more often than I express, and he has caused me to laugh fuller than anyone.

This afternoon while we played in our gorgeous yard, I was struck with the realization that this was the last party we will celebrate in this house. This was one of the last rides we will take on this tire swing. Oh how I will miss this wonderful old house and the precious memories it has held for our family the past 5 1/2 years.  I've tried to convince my husband to lift it up and haul it with us; he rolls his eyes and tells me I watch too much Extreme Makeover. Hey! If cousin Ty can do it, why can't we!

So here's to another great birthday memory made in this old house:

 

Max makes a wish and blows out the candle on his Lego cake.

Mikey slides with Christoper and Connor.

Em swings into the trees.

 

Max is into Legos and Star Wars....so here's the treats I made for the kids.

I'm thankful for this amazing boy, for the sunshine that has finally decided to grace us with its presence, for the sweet friends who share in our joy and for the adventure that lies ahead. What a beautiful life God has given me!

One of those days

Today was just one of those days for my precious son.

I'm trying to find a pattern. A reason. There's really  no logic to it. It's all pure emotion. It's like PMS to the inth degree. Can emotions be more intense than PMS? Let me tell you: I am the Queen of PMS. I get it bad.  And the only way to describe the wave of emotions that overtake him and control him, is to liken it to PMS overdose. He just can't explain what is wrong or why. 

School was rough. Not listening. Not cooperating. Kicking the teacher. Hitting. Disrupting.

The afternoon at home a struggle. Hysterical meltdowns trying to write the letter "y". Absolute hysteria. Utter frustration trying to read the word "at"....after easily reading "cat" "hat" "sat".  Explain that one if you can? Crying. Sobbing. Throwing.

Refusing to eat. Choosing to go to bed at 6:15 pm instead of eating. 

Oh, if only I could have every female who has any remote possibility of getting pregnant to spend a week, a day, with my son...it would completely convince them to choose not to drink before conception and during all 3 trimesters. Not one tiny sip of alcohol. If only I could reach them before another child like mine is conceived.

It's so preventable - - a day like today.  Don't drink while pregnant. Period.

But its so permanent. The baby has no choice once the woman has made hers.

If only there was a cure for days like today. If only there was an answer. If only there was more I could do for him.

Thank God for lights out at 7:30 pm.  The sun has set on a long draining day.

The sun will rise tomorrow. God's mercy will be new all over again. God's love will flow everlasting into his amazing life.

Of that, I am certain.