52
Dozen. Week 18
I
get it.
I
get it in a way I never thought I would and I fear my words won’t translate it
well but I’m going to try.
For
years my husband and I tried to get pregnant. Years. For years we avoided
church on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day because of the deep pain, loss,
hopelessness, and futility of our circumstances being brought to our attention
in the most dearest of places, the church. For years it was pretty unfortunate
that the holidays would always land on a Sunday. We finally faced the fear of
failure for an absolute answer only to have our deepest fears confirmed and our
diagnosis of infertility making us ‘that couple.’ In fact I remember being at a
women’s retreat and having the speaker talk about different circumstances
people face in our broken world and her naming and describing the pain of a
barren woman and having 10-12 women in the crowd turn to look and me and give
me ‘that look’ of pity. If I take the time to reflect on that period of my life
all of that pain comes rushing back without any notice. I can remember the
first Mother’s Day after our diagnosis of infertility. Our wedding anniversary
is always within a few days of Mother’s Day and my husband was out of the
country on business, which was a double downer. I sat in the room we chose to
be the nursery and wept. I remember crying for hours as I lay on the floor. I
remember imagining myself carrying a child and it slowly being taken away from
me, literally, and graphically limb by limb by force. I remember reminding
myself, out loud, that God was not doing this to me; it was just this broken
world. It was like if I didn’t actively tell myself that I may fall into a
cycle of blaming God. I knew if I didn’t allow myself to feel it all I may not
move past it. I also knew that I needed to do something physical with my body
to get through the pain. That’s the week I painted the nursery. I painted it
green and gray with murals of brown giraffes on the wall. I also hung fabric
from the ceiling making it look like clouds. I spent several more days under
those ‘clouds’ praying, hoping, and expecting.
That
was 4 years before I became a mom.
Most
of you know that by a miraculous act of God I was able to naturally conceive a
son and he is now a very healthy and active 18 month old. Even after I found
out I was pregnant the pain and loss of all those years was not erased.
Becoming pregnant was not a remedy to the hurts. Giving birth to a child did
not and still does not delete every hurt, fear, sting of loss, tinge of
jealousy, or shade of sadness that I experienced over those years. No, it was
all still there. The memory and scar of these hurts would be one I fear I will
carry forever. Not because I’m unwilling to let them go, but because those
experiences helped shape me into who I am today. It would be unfair to discount
and attempt to ignore all of those feelings now just because some may think the
remedy has been reached. I have many
who won’t understand this post because they think I should be grateful for
God’s ability to change my circumstances, and I am, beyond explanation I am
grateful but I am simply saying that reaching a ‘remedy’ to a hurt being
‘resolved’ does not obliterate the path it took to get there or the memories of
that path that would last a lifetime.
Another
Mother’s Day is here and although I have many reasons to celebrate, including
celebrating friends and family who are mothers, I find myself graphically
remembering the ache this day represented for many years.
This
is going to sound like I’m totally changing the subject but I promise I’m not.
I have spent a lot of time thinking through everything happening in Baltimore
recently and it seems that everyone has his or her own opinions. Being a
psychology nut I’ve always been interested in other’s reactions and opinions to
things. Our own life experiences shape what we think and our reason for things
being the way they are.
It’s
always so painful to hear people make their own judgments about someone else’s
actions as if that person doesn’t have any reasoning at all for seeing things
the way they do. Sure, we all make wild
choices in the heat of the moment sometimes but most of us have legitimate
reasons for actions we take. When I heard of everything happening and what
caused it I saw so much pain people must be experiencing because they feel the
discrimination and judgment of our world simply because of the color of their
skin and this event was simply a reminder of that. The only difference between
them and me is the circumstances in which our souls entered this world; the
body it came into this world in. That’s all. Yet far too many have experienced
injustice or been drawn out of a crowd simply because of the way they look.
It’s not fair but it happens all the time. If I was called out from a crowd
because I looked suspicious or intimidating or menacing it would get old really fast. Those experiences, no matter
how recurrent or rare they are, shape us and influence us. Even if we have been
removed from those circumstances for quite some time it doesn’t mean that a
singular event couldn’t cause all of those feelings to come rushing back. The
same feelings of hurt or anger that we thought we overcame years ago when first
faced with the injustice creep right back in and make themselves known in our
actions. My husband and I first read into the story and had questions about how
this young man was treated that led to his death and how unfair it was that
there seemed to be so many unanswered questions for his family, regardless of
what shenanigans he was getting into to be arrested in the first place, it
doesn’t mean he deserved to die for it. Many who heard of the riots and didn’t
understand those reacting in violence said “why are they destroying their own
city? What good does that do?” When some heard about the criminal record of
this young man they said “well no wonder he was running from police, don’t
break the law and you won’t get hurt.” My first thought was “I wonder what
happened to him? He was only 25, I’m sure he had a story to tell.” And he did,
some elements of his past expose he was preemie and struggled with a medical condition
caused by poor living environment as a child, which was a direct result of
being born into poverty. My heart hurt for the many wounds this event has
uncovered for so many.
Do
I agree with the destruction of property to stand up for injustice? No. It’s
very unfortunate that some who were angry broke the law and did things that
break the three rules to healthily expressing anger (1. Don’t hurt yourself. 2.
Don’t hurt anyone. 3. Don’t hurt anything.) It’s also very unfortunate that due
to the poor choice of many to do these hurtful demonstrations of their anger
the peaceful protesting to the injustice could not be center stage. Do I agree
that an injustice took place? Yes and I stand with my brothers and sisters
whose previous and current hurts from injustice and discrimination were brought
back to heart in light of these events. And my heart hurts for the many law enforcement
officers and bystanders who suffered harm as a consequence of all this
mismanaged anger. My heart hurts for the terrible confusion surrounding the
events and the poor communication the media is using the further the anger and
hurt rather than create clarity and resolution. I certainly don’t want to draw
any conclusions about this event and who was at fault because there are so many
angles that we know nothing about but I do know that there is hurt being
experienced by many.
As
all of this has been heavy on my heart and occupying a lot of prayer time at
the same time as my own dealings with the approaching reminder of my own
previous hurts, Mother’s Day, I understood the whole thing in a different
light. No matter how long it has been since an injustice happened to us, when
something reminds us of it we hurt, right in that moment. Each of us responds
differently. Those of us who have been taught good ways to deal with anger can
do things like write about it, talk to someone about it, punch a punching bag,
or paint a picture while others who haven’t been taught those skills respond in
other forms of anger. One is clearly right and one is clearly wrong in the eyes
of the law but it doesn’t mean there is not legitimate hurt and reasoning
behind the actions of those who respond.
As
I read an article about how to survive mother’s day if you have a history with
infertility or adoption a lot of these dots started to connect. One of the tips
that rung true for me was this:
“2. Stay present and in
your physical body. When we grieve our wounds, we are in the past in our
emotional body. When we worry or are fearful, we are in the future in our
mental body. So find something to do that keeps you in your body and present,
like physical or creative activities or just plain stillness.
- Move. In the remaining days leading up to Mother’s Day, plan to walk, run, hike, dance, mountain bike, swim, rock climb, do martial arts or yoga or another activity. Physical movement prevents emotional stagnation.”
That
urge to react is what caused so many to act violently in the case of the
Baltimore event, whether it was about the injustice in this case or an
injustice they previously experienced that this event brought to the surface in
their life, they hurt, and as the saying goes “Hurt people hurt others.”
As
for me, I just ordered 6,000 pounds of rocks. That’s right, rocks. I plan to
get physical and ‘stay in my present physical body’ by landscaping quite a bit
of my yard with rocks. I KNEW I would best deal with all those hurts resurfacing
by doing something physically with my body and hopefully spreading 6,000 pound
of rocks will help me do that!
In
all seriousness, I hope and pray in the oncoming years that we learn to see the
hurts of others and speak up when we see injustice, whether we are the victims
of it or not. I hope we will continue to fight for equality but even if it
seems that the solution has been attained I hope we remember that the past did
happen and those feelings may come rushing back no matter how well we think we
have dealt with it and I pray we have grace for each other when that happens. I
hope we work to understand that the shape, size, and color of the skin our soul
lives in is important to who we are but is not all that define us. I hope we
will all see the frailty in our own circumstances and that we are all just a
few choices away from a very different lifestyle and that it is by grace that some of us live in more
accommodating circumstances. I hope we learn to love, appreciate, and unite in
our differences because unity is beautiful. In fact, earlier this week I SAW it
during the closing of National Day of Prayer in our local city, the entire
evening focused on unity. It ended with all shades of every color and
background linking arms, singing praises to the King of Kings and thanking Him
for the gift of each other as brothers and sisters in Him. It was beautiful.
1 Corinthians 12
12 Just as a body, though one, has many
parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. 13 For
we were all baptized by[c] one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. 14 Even
so the body is not made up of one part but of many.
15 Now if the foot should say, “Because I
am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop
being part of the body. 16 And if the ear should say, “Because
I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason
stop being part of the body. 17 If the whole body were an eye,
where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would
the sense of smell be? 18 But in fact God has placed the parts
in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. 19 If
they were all one part, where would the body be? 20 As it is,
there are many parts, but one body.
21 The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t
need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” 22 On
the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable,
23 and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with
special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special
modesty, 24 while our presentable parts need no special
treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts
that lacked it, 25 so that there should be no division in the
body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. 26 If
one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every
part rejoices with it. 27 Now you are the body of Christ, and
each one of you is a part of it.
Cookies
this week were Orange Creamsicle with white chocolate chips and were given to
two sets of friends. One had her second baby about 6 weeks ago and another is due with her second within
the next month. Both have been incredible supporters of my life as a mom. They aren't quick to give advice in a given situation, they really ask me how I am, listen, and love. I have others who have tried to say 'I see your doing ___" but both of these women really just encourage who I am. They've both become huge parts of my heart as we've all embarked on this journey as moms together.
BAKER’S
REVIEW
These
cookies turned out great but not necessarily as good as the recipe stated. I
followed a recipe that called these cookies ‘the best white chocolate chip
cookies ever’ and although they were pretty good, I felt that adding the orange
extract and extra butter made them unbelievably better; much more smooth and
chewy than the original recipe was. I have included my recipe with my added
‘flair.’
TASTERS
REVIEW
My
husband and son are big fans but neither was interested in having multiple
cookies. I took this as a good sign that the cookies would last longer and that
no one would grab the jar and eat 10 at a time. They were easy for my son to
eat but I think the orange taste threw him off until the third or fourth bite.
My husband used the word FESTIVE to describe his tasting experience.
Orange
Creamsicle with white chocolate chips
Ingredients:
- ½ cup butter, softened (I always use salted)
- ¾ cup lightly packed brown sugar
- ¼ cup granulated sugar
- 1 large eggs
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 teaspoon almond extract
- 2 Tablespoons cream or milk
- orange extract (about 1 teaspoon)
- 2 cups all purpose flour
- 2 teaspoons corn starch
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- ¼ teaspoon salt
- 1 cup white chocolate chips, regular or mini
Instructions:
1.
With electric mixer, cream butter,
sugars, egg, and vanilla on medium speed until pale and fluffy, 4-5 minutes.
Add the cream and orange zest and beat for an additional minute.
2.
In small bowl, combine flour, corn
starch, baking soda, and salt. Add to butter mixture and mix just until
combined.
3.
Stir in white chocolate chips. Let dough
chill for 30 minutes (or longer) before proceeding.
4.
When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350
degrees Fahrenheit and lightly grease or line a baking sheet with parchment
paper.
5.
Scoop dough by heaping tablespoons onto
cookie sheet about 2" apart. Roll each scoop into a nice ball and bake for
8 minutes, until just set but still soft in the centre. Let rest on cookie
sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to racks to cool completely.
6.
Repeat with remaining dough...I made
about 3 dozen smaller cookies, but if you like your cookies larger you'll get
about 2 dozen.
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