Immeasurably Thankful

I sincerely mean it.

If anything, I am coming to understand that the testimony of my life is fully entrenched in the tests that I am given (and I choose the word 'given' specifically - because they are gifts no matter how challenging they may seem) - and in particular, in the ways that God has blessed me with immeasurably more than I could've ever imagined.

This includes the fact that I am immeasurably thankful.

And I know that this is incomprehensible - it defies all logic.

I have found that the best things in my life are exactly those things that don't seem rational - the things that seem impossible to manage - the things that seem the hardest to tackle - all of the things which, at the end of the day, are ultimately the very best things.

We all have choices to make about the way we look at things.  I can cite a handful of 'situations' I that have faced (relocation to Fort McMurray, becoming a mother of twins in addition to two young sons, the diagnosis of a life-threatening condition) for which I was told I couldn't make it through.  This was true enough.  Without God's strength, grace, and mercy I wouldn't have been able to make it through them.

But see that's the beauty of it.  I didn't have to face them alone.  I'm aware that this is a faith-based perspective that - quite frankly - I don't have any quantifiable way to 'explain'.  But I know what I know what I know.

And I know that I am thankful.

For pretty much every single thing I used to find complaint with, I now find joy.  I seek joy out.  I hunt it down.  I embrace it.

Joy.

What an unusual word in our lives these days.

Trust me when I say that I am still human.  My physical, emotional and psychological states have been taking a beating for many seasons.  Yet I am slowly learning that my feelings aren't remotely as important as my perspective.

Where "busy", "stressed" and "overwhelmed" were once the primary adjectives of my old life, I am choosing to eliminate these words (as well as "worried", "depressed" and "fear") to describe my experience.  I am working on choosing words that encourage, edify and build up.  Joy just so happens to be one of them.

Because of my condition, I have been so blessed to have a whole village of loving people helping me to raise these beautiful boys.  And I am so grateful.  I am also so grateful - filled with joy - for each opportunity I have to use these hands to care tenderly for Nate, John, Andrew and Samuel.

***

However, being thankful is much, much more than even all of this.  

Perhaps most importantly, the truth of the beautiful life of one little boy has changed everything for me.

My thoughts of this little man, Milo - who is continually touching my heart - inspire me to a whole new level of understanding of the role joy plays in my relationships with all of the amazing children in my life.  

I have learned that heaven is revealed through children and - without trying to sound melodramatic, as I believed I was only a step away from my home myself - learning more about it became pretty important to me.  So in light of all of this, I have been meditating so much on Christ's words about the kingdom of heaven.  

The Greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven

 ¹ At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

 ² He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. ³ And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. ⁴ Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. ⁵ And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.

A call for us to change and become like little children; to welcome children in His name.  As Advent approaches, consider for a moment the joy of a child at Christmas time.  As Christmas draws near, contemplate the gift of the children in your life.

It is a mystery to me that from a heart divided in two - from my extreme broken-hearted grief in missing Milo to such joy in the knowledge that he's home - somehow my love grows and grows and grows.  I miss this little boy so much that I find myself compelled even more than ever before to not miss one moment with the little boys that are in my care (and all of the children that fill this heart of mine).

Mr. Milo is an inspiration of so much more than joy and thankfulness - he is a light shining in a world where brokenness is a part of everyday life.  

I have been blessed immeasurably more than I could've ever imagined.  I am so thankful that I had the privilege to hold a ray of sunshine - to hold joy - in my arms.  

***

I am learning through these seasons that the primary difference between happiness and joy is that happiness can only be found if what is happening is something you like whereas joy can be found no matter what is happening.  

Now when people say, "Woah! You have your hands full!", I am quite content to respond: "why, yes indeed, I do."

I feel that it is important for them to know that my children are not a burden, they are not something that hinders me from doing what I want to do, and they do not prevent me from doing great things.  Quite the opposite, really.  They fill my home with love, they incite purpose for my days and, in God's grace through loving them, I am doing great things.

Yes, there are more challenges than I ever expected and yes, I am stretched beyond anything I could've ever previously imagined.  But I have learned through so many hard learned lessons of this past year that challenges and living beyond yourself are both to be embraced.

Summer 2010

Summer 2011

These boys are (each and every one of them) a blessing.

And it is a privilege to care for them.

I was explaining my new-found understanding to Arden on the weekend.  I mentioned how it has allowed me to find that I am thankful even for their poop.  About twenty minutes later he happily presented me with Samuel (who happened to have a full diaper) in order to 'have some more joy'.  It made me laugh.

I am truly content to find myself changing a poop-filled diaper.  Even if I didn't get a reward (which I do - each time I give a belly button a playful poke, a scrumptious little giggle is the result), I still would be grateful.

***

And just in case it appears that I am exclusively being a tireless, sentimental optimist, maybe I should put the poop into context.  Not only am I choosing to be thankful for the poop, I am finding that there's a lot of humour (scatological as it may be) in the poop.  So for the finale, I'd like to offer three stories from my not so distant past dealing with... well, poop.

[From October 2010 - From when the twins are approximately 5 months old]

I really can't talk too much about poop these days mainly because John is potty training... again.  This morning he decided to make a statement about the fact he was going to perform on the potty... so Nate (brushing his teeth before school) and me (there as a spotter because the child does gymnastics on the throne as though it's the pommel horse at the gym) got to witness the usual dramatics.  John was not pleased his brother was there because, as he said in his most outraged tone that Nate was going to "stir my poop!"  Weird.  However, he didn't poop. Yet.

Afterwards I was brought to tears as he decided to poop on the potty (Yay!) but then not tell me (Boo!).  I was dealing with the twins so I came out to find him diaper-less and his bottom poop-smudged.  I wanted to cry.  Then I did cry.  A lot.  I spent the next hour searching for places he sat, climbed or possibly contaminated.  I found it in the most unusual places.  I thought I was part of a CSI team.  

[From Summer 2011]

There are so many moments that I think that I am overstretched beyond my capabilities... but then we make it to the end of the day with a four thriving boys tucked into their beds.

I sometimes wonder if I'll find myself in therapy one day, looking at inkblot tests and responding with answers such as: "baby poop; toddler poop; corn poop; poop that my six-year-old insisted I look at; blueberry poop; exploding diaper poop...".

And yet, even now, and especially now, there's one thing I am certain of:

A day in my life is pretty amazing.

[From June 20, 2011]

The 'quotable quote' of the weekend before last (the quote of the year?) came about in the most average moment.  Driving in the van, boys (relatively) peaceful in the backseat, Arden & I were having a conversation.  From the backseat, John pipes up:

"You guys is INSAAAANE!"

We paused, looked at each other and started to laugh.

"That's the way it is" was his quiet response.

Yup, we's insane.

***

Thursday morning's brief moment on facebook involved seeing a link to an amusing mom blog.  I read the entry about sleeping, laughed, and then clicked back to this entry about a diaper change.  I found this one amusing, too, because it rang so true to my own life and then I continued on my day.

Before afternoon naptime, my own version of this daily experience (how many poopy diapers do I change in one day???) played out in real time and I thought I would recount it as best as I can (because relating something after the fact is not that accurate and no, I don't have any photos) I think bullets might help me chronicle the sequence of events:

• Andrew, fussy and agitated, toddles over to me [begin soundtrack of baby crying].  
• I assess the need for a diaper change.
• Nate is occupied with his project [wrapping Arden's Father's Day present], John is playing with his Hot Wheels toy.  Good.
• Placing Andrew on the floor, everything falls apart.

• Unlike the blogger, I was prepared for poop (had the diaper AND wipes) [by the way, this was the pride before the fall... that night I was plunking said boys in the bath and found myself dropping a diaper to the floor and dealing with a silent but deadly poop WITHOUT wipes]; however, I wasn't prepared for the appearance of diaper rash [soundtrack of crying amplifies as I search for diaper cream]
• Like the blogger's experience, my baby is behaving like a "spastic octopus".
• In the meantime, Samuel has found Nate's Wall-E toothbrush (left out by John who was using it as a 'tool' ten minutes earlier) and comes over to me (he sees that the wipes are down) and, laughing, begins to wack Andrew on the head with the toothbrush [soundtrack of crying increases (understandably) two decibels]
• While I'm comforting Andrew, who is still poopy, Samuel takes the opportunity to start taking every. single. wipe. out. of. a. full. box. of. wipes. 
• In the meantime, John begins to call out "MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!  It's broken!!! MOMMMMM, I need you to fix it!!!!!!" (his Hot wheels toy needs a piece to be pushed back in. Right now.)
• Simultaneously, Nate hits a snag in his wrapping: "Mom, can you help me with this part?  See, I was able to do this corner, but I can't do this part without help.  Can you help me?  Please?"
• Me: 
• "It's okay, Andrew. 
• Samuel, NO!  
• John, please wait one moment.  
• Nate, I will be with you after I've helped Andrew with his bum"
• Andrew, being placed back on the floor, starts having a tantrum because I am A: daring to clean him up; B: trying to apply diaper cream; C: attempting to keep him still.
• Samuel takes this opportunity to pull out more wipes while John continues to call out to me (verbatim: "MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!  It's broken!!! MOMMMMM, I need you to fix it!!!!!!") while Nate is working out his problem by verbally processing it (voice raised over the noise), "mom, what if I do this....?"
• Meanwhile, the poop has turned into a massive mess (due to my delay and the amount of squirming Andrew has done), and I no longer have the wipe box because Samuel has moved it out of reach.  Oh, and similar to the blogger's 4 year old, John's frustration intensifies.  
• I finally get Andrew cleaned, ointmented, diapered and comforted (and if you comfort one twin, the other thinks he needs attention, so thus, Samuel got similar attention) and hurry over to John [soundtrack had stopped in silence but then resumes on a lower volume as Andrew and Samuel are annoyed that I have abandoned them to walk the 6 steps over to the couch to help out John.
• I get to my second born only to watch him successfully slip the post into position and my eldest pick up his project to proudly announce, "I'm all done!".  
• Seriously?  Seriously.

Thursday afternoon then included a brief game of apple throwing between John and Andrew; John "fishing" the babies with a carpet no slip mat (he made it into his net), John with stuff (dirt, food, poop) on his hands and then wanting to touch his toothbrush before washing his hands (I caught him in time but was beyond immensely frustrated - why does he use 1/2 a bottle of soap in one trip and then nothing at all the next?  What is with this obsession with teeth brushing on. his.own?!?), stuff (an entire water cup, salad, yogurt, crackers, playdoh, fruit, poop) being spilled on my freshly washed floors (Arden did them the night before), comforting babies who were battling each other over stuff (a spoon, a wooden spoon, a box of wipes, a bike helmet - note: no toys were in play), and Nate showing me how he can make a "penny print out of his belly button" via his magic trick involving a penny stuck in his navel which was then pushed out.

So essentially, several incidents of me thinking my head might explode, several more of irony based-laughter due to the absurdity of the situation and a sprinkling of genuine laughs at the antics.

Ultimately, I think the three year old summed it up accurately.

We is insane.