Confessions

I need to make a confession.  It might surprise some, because I talk so much about my faith, because of all we have been through on our journey to start a family, and because I live in a pastor’s house, for Pete’s sake, with LOADS of the materials I need right there at my fingertips.  But then again, it’s not all that shocking, because I’m human, I’m sinful, I’m busy, and I’ve got a whole list of other excuses if you really care to hear them.  Have you guessed it? Well, here goes nothing:

I have a pathetically AWFUL devotional life.  And prayer life.  It’s shameful, really, how horrible I am at remembering to sit down and spend five stinking minutes a day learning more about the Savior to whom I owe EVERYTHING.  Or to say a prayer of thanks or praise or just because, one that isn’t recited in front of a plate of food, one that isn’t thrown up to heaven in a desperate cry for help when all else seems to have failed. 

I need to make another confession.  All those happy, smiley photos and videos I love to post of my precious Libby, the light of my life… they’re a sham.  (Chirp, chirp, chirp)  Cue the “awkward silence” crickets because I know you are scraping your jaws off the ground, SHOCKED that such a beautiful girl could every pout or cry or -gasp!- throw a tantrum. Well… she does.  Sorry if I burst any bubbles there ;) And based on what I observe from other children, added to the fact that life is just plain frustrating and overwhelming for a toddler with vision problems, I would grade Libby as “above average” on the Baby Grumpiness Scale.

So why the need to spill my guts about all this tonight? Well, for one thing, I didn’t sugar-coat the struggles of infertility and the adoption process, so I sure-shootin’ am not going to sugar-coat the struggles of parenthood.  And today when my house was quieter and happier than it has been in WEEKS, I realized that these two struggles in my life, seemingly unrelated, may have a much deeper connection than I realized.

For a long time, YEARS I’m guessing, it has been my regular prayer (when I remember to pray) that God draw me closer and help me remember my daily devotions and prayer time.  Really, a person shouldn’t NEED extra reminders living in this beautiful world we live in, surrounded by such grace as we are, but like I said earlier – I’m pathetically awful.  And so God answered my prayer.  He gave me LOTS of reminders.  He gave me three or four facebook friends who post their daily Bible readings and encourage others to read along with them and comment.  He gave me other friends who post links to daily devotions and thought-provoking spiritual articles.  He gave me a wonderful husband to encourage me and provide me with great materials.  He even threw some struggles in there to see if THEY would bring me closer – death of loved ones, a long wait to become a mother, the uncertainty of Libby’s eyesight and medical issues, the stress and frustration that comes alongside the joy in Tim’s ministry, which the whole family feels.

But I just. didn’t. take. the bait! “I’ll read later, right now I HAVE to make supper or it won’t be ready for Tim to get to his meeting in time.” “Libby’s crying, I can’t pray right now to start my day, I’ll pray tonight to wrap things up.” “Oooooh, that devotional link looks really good, but what was that link a little farther back, something about Packers Training Camp, I need to read that one first, then I’ll come back to the devotion.” “I spend soooo much time running, maybe I could read a chapter of Scripture later on right before I go running, and then meditate on it while I’m out on the road.”

SO MANY EXCUSES.  If I spent HALF the time in devotion in prayer that I spend making excuses about why I can’t do devotion or prayer, I’d be golden.

God tried to be gentle with me.  He dropped opportunity after opportunity in my lap, and I ignored most of them.  And when I DID remember to pray, I would ask Him for opportunities.  God saw that I was NOT getting the message.  Handing me chances was getting me nowhere.  He knew that it was time to shake things up, to SMACK ME IN THE FACE with my need for Him.  And so, in recent  weeks, He has CLEARLY shown me that devotional and prayer time is not a luxury or a goal or a worthy prayer… it is an absolute NEED. 

The last three weeks have been the hardest of my life.  I don’t say that lightly.  The struggles I mentioned above were extremely trying.  But this… this has very nearly broken me.  I have cried more tears in the last three weeks than I did in the last three years.  But the same can be said of praying prayers, and for that I count myself extremely blessed, and I thank my Lord for finally, FORCEFULLY drawing me back to Him.

So we have established that Libby is not the happiest of babies.  The world is big and scary and oh so overwhelming for a child with speech and developmental delays and absolutely no vision.  And how do 2-year-olds handle discomfort and confusion? They fly off the handle.

Well, in the last three weeks Libby has flown so far off the handle I am about to lose my ever-loving mind.  At first, I noticed it when I pushed her too hard when working on walking or crawling, or if she heard certain sounds.  The sound of plastic crinkling or water running takes her from zero to sixty in two seconds.  And by sixty I mean SCREAMING. her. head. off.  Body is rigid, face is red, and those beautiful eyes look TERRIFIED.  Try to pick her up, she thrashes away.  Try to set her down, she reaches for me to pick her back up.  Try to sing a song, she screams louder. Try to her, and she is LIVID.  The first week, we just tiptoed lightly around the house, knowing if we startled her, we would pay for it.  But it got worse.  Much worse.

By the second week, meal times had become a nightmare.  And we added new sounds to the Bad List: traffic going by on our BUSY highway, the phone ringing, conversation when she didn’t know we were in the room… generally, anything she didn’t “feel like” listening to was cause for a nuclear meltdown.  They began to last longer.  Unfortunately, our patience was NOT increasing.  We put her in her crib a lot, just to get a moment’s peace, and to get the ringing in our ears to stop.  Bad idea.  While placing the baby in the crib when I’m about to lose it DOES keep me from punching a hole in the wall, it also causes the crib to become a Bad Place, resulting in additional meltdowns at naptime, bedtime, and (of course) wake-up time.  

She screams when she’s bored.  She screams when you try to play with her.  She screams when she’s wet.  She screams when you give her a dry diaper. These fits of screaming range from five minutes to over an hour, although the five-minute fits are generally part of a series of fits lasting the full hour.  When we finally FINALLY find something to calm her (stroller, bath, or finally just falling asleep because she’s so exhausted from screaming), I fly around the house cleaning and cooking up a storm before the next meltdown inevitably begins.  Ah, that we had family close by.  “Close” meaning less than six hours away.  We are Plumb Tuckered Out.

This couldn’t have come at a worse time.  First of all, it’s summer.  You plan ballgames and road trips and you just want to go to the park and the beach.  NOT US. Not unless we want to seriously confuse/terrify/irritate the living daylights out of everyone in a two-mile radius.  Secondly, we are both running A Lot right now.  We had a half-marathon last weekend and another in two months, so we need time to prepare, which Libby is not too keen on giving us.  And also, Tim has had a Tad (with a capital “T”) more stress than normal in his work lately.  He was worn down to begin with.  Then all of this started.

We have entered week three.  We have found a pattern: if we let her sleep until she’s DONE, things go a little better.  If we wake her (which sometimes we just have to), we are IN FOR IT.  We have had blood drawn.  We have had a head CT.  We have checked for 2-year molars about 800 times.  I prayed and prayed (yes, I prayed! :) that we would find a simple, medical fix for all of this madness.  In my heart of hearts, I knew that we would not.  I had a Mama’s Hunch that we had entered the perfect storm of sensory overload – speech delay frustration – Terrible Twos.  And so we are bracing ourselves for many more weeks, maybe months of inexplicable (yet totally explicable) meltdowns at the drop of a pin. 

Today – ahhhhh, today – has been The Best Day in recent memory.  Not just the in the last three weeks.  I mentioned before that she’s generally a “rather crabby” baby.  I cannot recall a day since she came home to us that she has been so pleasant, happy, and reasonable all. day. long.  I don’t know what I did to deserve this blessing of peace and quiet in my house and in my HEAD, a little oasis in the tumult of our last three weeks.  And in the stillness, God spoke to me.

You see, I HAVE been reading devotions and praying a LOT more lately.  It took about three days of Week One to realize that God was sending a loud, clear message: you NEED Me, Megan.  Abandon your excuses, open up that dusty Bible, and READ.  But He knows me so well.  He knew it wasn’t yet time to call off the full-court press.  He’s seen me read plenty of “desperation devotions” in my day.  He knew that if Libby backed off after three days, so would my spiritual growth.  So He forced me to dig deep for patience and understanding and the will to drag my butt out of bed.  He pushed me HARD, and as He pushed, an amazing thing happened.  A habit was formed.  I realized it today, as I drank my coffee and read my Bible and turned the pages of the devotional, to the sounds of music and giggling and happiness.  I realized I was reading NOT as a response to my horrible circumstances, but because God had graciously, FINALLY pushed me so hard that I made a change.  THANK YOU, dear Heavenly Father, for this trying time in my life.  It was absolutely what I needed to make my time with You a PRIORITY.  You did not take my problems away, but You gave me a full spiritual toolbox for the difficult work ahead, and You are making me into a stronger person and better mommy.

I have no misconceptions that we are in the clear, and all our days to come will be filled with sunshine and rainbows and Happy Libby.  Nor do I foolishly believe that my commitment to devotion and to prayer will never waver again.  But I can already tell that I’m stronger.  My patience is growing, due in part to the ear plugs I wear during mealtimes and teeth-brushing… but due in much larger part to having blown the dust off the cover of my Bible.

And now, much like my devotions, it’s time for the first-in-a-long-time glass of wine that isn’t a desperate response to a horrible day, but a peaceful reward at its close.