Church and the therapist's office

I need to start by saying that I love my church. I love the people there and the community. I feel we have a greater than average share of eclectic, quirky people when compared most churches I have been to. We are accepting and welcoming more than I feel is normal for a church. Those people are my family and I love them! But we still have a long ways to go, in my opinion. And I feel that "the church", in the broad sense of the word, should be more like the waiting room at the therapist's office.

Yesterday I spent a little more than an hour in the waiting room at Fraser. Fraser is a mental health specialty clinic for kids. They are mainly known for their amazing work with autism, but they work in all areas of mental health. It is a wonderful place and one for which we are very, very grateful! I have spent Thursday afternoons there for almost a year now, (for a while we spent time there on Friday too, but we've weaned down to once a week!). The woman that we see there (who we are adore, and care about, and are so, so thankful for, and who has made a huge difference in the life of one of our kiddos and, thus, in the life of our family as a whole) had surgery earlier this winter and so this was our first week back since before Christmas. (7 weeks off of therapy, especially in the midst of a major home remodel, is really tricky for a kid who has a significantly hard time with changes to routine and unpredictability!) So, after that break, I feel like I was seeing things with fresh eyes yesterday.

Many of our same "friends" were there in the waiting room with me. Familiar faces. But there were new people that I didn't recognize as well. The Fraser waiting room is a unique place. So very much diversity! Ethnic diversity. Economic diversity. Age diversity (the woman sitting next to me, who I have had short conversations with from time to time, brings her GREAT grandson to his therapy each week). Language diversity (there is always at least one interpreter in the room to relay information from therapist to parent). Diversity of abilities. Diversity in the issues that bring us each to Fraser. It reminds me a bit of what I imagine heaven to be like.

It is the least "calm" waiting room I have EVER been in. Kids throw major fits there. Sometimes they lay down, refusing to move, in the middle of the floor. It is loud! People often act in ways that would not be socially acceptable in any other setting. Loving therapists and parents can be found sitting in the middle of the floor trying to engage with a kiddo they care about and want to help who has shut down or is being oppositional. If people need to get by them (because they are, quite literally, sitting in the middle of the floor of the small waiting room) they just step over or around and give a sympathetic smile. It is the least judgmental setting that I have ever been in. It has a vibe of we've-been-there-too, keep-up-the-fight, you-can-do-it. Solidarity! Parenting is hard, hard work! That is universal. But some kiddos are even harder than average.

Everyone in that waiting room is desperate. They realize they can't do it alone and need help and wisdom and support. They are at the end of their ropes and knowledge and ability and are acknowledging their needs just by walking through the door. That fact brings an amazing feeling of unity and also an inability to put on any air of pretense or having things all together. Just by being there, we are all saying that we DON'T have it all together and that we're pretty much a mess. And we need help. No one there is judge-y. People give a sympathetic smile and let you know you aren't alone. People own their "stuff" and don't attempt to be fake. I imagine we all spend enough time faking it in other settings and it feels good to be real for a bit.

Isn't that how church should be too? Aren't we there because we are acknowledging that we need Jesus? That we can't save ourselves? That we are all sinners and are a bit of a mess -- possibly even a huge mess! When people ask me, on Sunday morning, "How are you?",  can I say that I had a shitty week? Would I get in "trouble" if I said shitty in church? A big part of me wants to be authentic, but instead, I almost always default to "Good. And you?" This is not completely false. I AM good. I am healthy. I have a wonderful family that I love (and who, if we're being honest, I want to murder at least once a day). I have food to eat and clothes to wear and a roof over my head. I have wonderful friends and a great community. But, also, life is hard! It isn't easy to convey all of this in church (or anywhere), so I default to "Fine." or "Good." But I wish church were more like the Fraser waiting room. Where we could drop the pretense and be more real and have it be ok to do so. Where other people would be that way too. That we all would. Where we could just sit (often completely wordless) with our crap. Where just by walking through the doors we would be admitting what a mess we are. I think Jesus would be in favor of that. My Jesus would, anyway!

*photo credit to my friend Margaret 

Teachers are my heroes!

Despite having children in the public school system for more than a decade, I have never volunteered in the classroom on a regular basis until this year. I always had a little person at home with me that made regular volunteering challenging. Sure, I went along on some field trips and helped with stuff from home and worked the book fair and open houses and the school carnival. But regular, weekly, in-the-classroom volunteering is new territory for me.

Each Wednesday morning I walk my kids to school like usual (except for today, when we drove, since it was rainy!), but instead of kissing them goodbye and turning around to walk back home, I go to the office, sign in on the iPad, don my volunteer badge and head off down the hall to spend the morning with some great kiddos!

Until now, I've mostly had the opportunity to maintain my ignorance about what kids -- little kids! -- have to deal with in their lives. I know, intellectually, and on a general level, that there are kids in my kid's school (and in pretty much every school in our country) who have yucky home situations. Who don't eat breakfast in the morning. Or dinner at night. Who struggle with academic stuff that their peers mastered long ago. Who don't have appropriate clothes (coats, hats, boots) to wear to school. Who don't have supportive parents. Who don't have a home, or a bed of their own. I know these facts intellectually, but to know these things more intimately, in my heart, by working each week with kids who struggle in these areas, is heartbreaking! If I knew the specifics of each of the 20 or 30-some kids in the classroom, I think it might do me in! I don't think I could take it. Even the kids who seem to have things going for them (kids like the ones that live at my house), have struggles. Real struggles. Some not as "big" as being homeless, for example, but just as real. No one is exempt. And to know those struggles for dozens of kids is so weighty! I told one teacher this morning, "I really don't know how you do it. It's heartbreaking!". She agreed and said she doesn't sleep too great many nights. These men and women are heroes! Their love and concern for kids that aren't their own blows my mind. The hours they spend working with, thinking about, worrying about these kids is WAY more than the hours written in their contracts. I am so very thankful for them!

This morning, one of the kiddos I work with one-on-one wasn't at school. That allowed me to spend a little more time helping out another teacher, but I couldn't help but worry about why this kiddo wasn't at school today. I was looking forward to our game of "war", where we sneak in work on some math facts under the guise of just playing a card game. I want to be a bright spot in the lives of the kids I come in contact with. I don't want to just help them make academic strides (although that will, hopefully, be an outcome as well), I want to build them up. Make them feel seen and cared about and noticed. I want them to know that they matter and are important and can do it . . . even when they think they can't. I want to give them big huge hugs and tell them that I pray for them and buy them a nice, new winter coat. But some things aren't appropriate to do and I just need to keep pouring into them and praying for them and loving them in the ways that I can. I only know the specifics of a very small number of kids (and even then, there is lots of stuff I don't know about them) and it is hard. I know I am more sensitive than some, but I don't know how pouring in to the life of a kid who is struggling in life couldn't get to you, no matter who you are. They are kids, for crying out loud! Life should be (mostly) carefree and fun. And for many it isn't. That is hard for me to know. To really know. Not just to be aware of, and know in my head, but to know in my heart too.

I could not handle being a classroom teacher. For way more reasons than I could begin to list. But I am so very thankful for teachers! They are my heroes! Thank you, teachers!

A journey of a thousand miles (or maybe just one). On running and life.

I wrote this a couple months back. I wrote it mainly as a way to process my thoughts and feelings and life (because writing helps me do that). I wrote it mainly for myself. I shared it with my husband after I wrote it, but other than that it has just been for me . . . until now. Lately I have felt that I should share it, even though it is vulnerable and hard and I don't really want to do it.

It may be what someone else needs. It may be what the Lord uses to encourage someone else during a tough time. It may be what makes someone feel a little less alone or sad or isolated, or a timely reminder that they are not the only one who is struggling. For me, personally, things have turned around a bit now that the seasons have shifted from summer to fall (summer is always, always hard for me). I still have some stuff to work through and to work on, but I'm in a better place than I was when this was written.


So here you go. My heart ::


5 years ago I couldn't run for more than 30 seconds at a time without thinking I might die. Little by little by little that changed. In 2013 I ran a half marathon. I was a "Runner". It took me a long time to embrace that I was legit and could own my title of "Runner", but I finally got there. These days I'm much closer to the person I was in 2011 than the person I was in 2013, as far as running goes.

Probably a little more than a year ago now, something shifted in me. I started becoming more anxious than I had ever been before. I started feeling "off", not like myself and struggled to do normal, everyday things that I had never even given a second thought to before. I had a few hard life and relationship situations that took a significant toll on me. A couple times I tried being brave and authentic about one particular struggle and the authenticity backfired on me and seemed to make things worse. Since it was a pretty big deal for me to work up the courage to do that in the first place, that set me back. I didn't feel alive inside at all. At some point in there I'm pretty certain I crossed the line into depression. One Sunday, earlier this summer, I couldn't even go to church with my family because I, literally, could not stop crying (and church is one of my very favorite things!). A few months before all this, I had stopped running. I would try, sometimes, but I couldn't do it. Mentally. Physically. It just didn't work any more! I have some pretty significant physical pain (hip, knee, foot, hand, wrist -- not all at the same time, thankfully, but it was always something . . . or a few somethings). I don't know if the pain brought on the depression or if the depression lead to physical pain. I went to PT for a while, but it wasn't helping and was costing a lot, so I quit. I have also had a few panic attacks over the past year or so. If you haven't ever experienced one, those things are horrible! So painful and scary. I really think that it is one of those things that you can't understand without having experienced it for yourself. All of that weighed on me and sucked the life out of me.

If someone were to ask me today if I was a runner, I wouldn't know how to answer them. I own running shoes and technical running clothes, and running-related gadgets, but that is not what makes someone a runner. It's been hard to adjust to this stage: something that had, at one point, been a big part of who I was no longer fit. I can't agree to a group run with friends because I would never be able to keep up with them anymore (even thought I know they would never leave me behind). Since I also struggle to admit all of this to anyone, my running friends probably just thought I was blowing them off or didn't want to run with them. But I don't know any of that for sure, since I never opened up to tell them what was really going on.

The other day I ran a solid mile without stopping. That was huge! Even though not that long ago I could run 10, even 15 miles, this one solid mile seemed even more significant somehow. It was a solid 3+ minutes per miles slower than I used to run, but I ran the whole time without stopping. I still have a long way to go and I don't love (or even like) running like I used to, but I think that getting back "in the saddle" is something that I need to do if I want to get better. Both as a runner and as a person that I would actually like to be.

Things that make me feel alive are being outside, my family, creating things, meaningful music, good books, making note of the (seemingly) small blessings in each day, authentic relationships, writing, encouraging others, hanging my clothes out to dry, reading a good book -- and I wasn't doing enough of any of those things. Often, I couldn't muster up what it took to get off the couch, which makes it hard to create much or spend time outdoors or be with others or do any of those things.

I think legitimately admitting to the struggles is a good place to start to get better. I have been reading things lately that have been helpful with different aspects of my struggles. I know that I am not alone in this. I should get off the couch more often. I should go outside more. I should make more stuff. I should probably get on some drugs.

Writing helps me to process my thoughts. But getting things out on paper (even if only for myself) takes vulnerability that is scary. Until you say it out loud or write it down, it is easier to pretend that it's not real. Or that it's just a "rough patch" or a "tough season", rather than an actual ongoing problem that needs addressing. Here's to the first step of putting it out there!

multitude monday {another two-weeker}

Here's my continuing Multitude Monday post, which all started a while back, right here on Ann's wonderful, amazing blog that is a favorite of mine. If you've never checked it out, do yourself a favor and click on over. She's an amazing, gifted writer and an inspiration!

"One Thousand Gifts"::

2394. my grandma's sweet spirit
2395. birthday dinner made by my mom and delivered to our house during an extra-busy week
2396. many heart-felt birthday wishes from many wonderful people
2397. a birthday morning doorbell and (iced) coffee delivery from a thoughtful friend
2398. first guests staying in the basement
2399. 64 years of life for my dad -- what a blessing he is and a great example of selflessly serving others
2400. the Stoll reunion
2401. kids reuniting with their cousins and second cousins and second-cousins-once-removed or whatever all those relationships are
2402. Stoll family Bunco {or is it Bunko? these are things I just don't know!}
2403. basement 99% finished
2404. moving things back downstairs and reclaiming our house
2405. free birthday coffee coupons
2406. friends who pray for, laugh with {because what else can you do but laugh -- well, after you're done crying that is}, support and encourage me through the not-so-fun stuff of life
2407.wrapping up the summer soccer season
 
2408. Sara's good nature, even when sick
2409. fun Olympic party with neighborhood friends
2410. a fun, just-what-I-needed, life-giving night out with Al
2411. side-splitting laughter while shopping at Patina
2412. Chatterbox Pub {always a favorite!}
2413. making it through a rough week
2414. hope
2415. Jacob's friend Jack :: I love that kid!
2416. a fun day with Jacob :: he's pretty fabulous too!
2417. all-day VBS for the middle 4 kids at Como Park Lutheran
2418. 34 years of life for my brother. What a wonderful man of God he has grown into. I'm proud of you, Luke and am thankful that you're my brother!
2419. Sara's DAILY explosion of new language, she's picking up new words by the minute these day and it never ceases to amaze me. Today she pointed at the radio and told Jacob to "turn on KTIS." Honestly babe, you're not even 2.
2420. Kirb (or God :: maybe a bit of both) fixing the dryer
2421. my dad going to Menards to get a bunch more wood for me -- buying lumber is not the most fun errand to do with kids!
2422. unexpectedly bumping into a friend and catching up for a few minutes
2423. good days
2424. watching a bunny munch on the grass in our yard
2425. a good book, a cool evening and a little breeze ::  heavenly!
2426. geese flying through a beautiful sky
2427. harvesting peas, cukes and carrots in the back yard with Anna
2428. a glorious sunset :: what a loving, caring, thoughtful artist God is!

Alrighty, that's it's for now. Tune in next Monday for the next installment.

multitude monday

Here's my continuing Multitude Monday post, which all started a while back, right here on Ann's wonderful, amazing blog that is a favorite of mine. If you've never checked it out, do yourself a favor and click on over. She's an amazing, gifted writer and an inspiration!

"One Thousand Gifts"::

2302. day camp for Anna
2303. a fun night with a couple girlfriends :: laughter and a chick flick
2304. Joe's first day of archery
2305. Anna's first day of soccer
2306. Kirb home again :: for an extended stay this time!
2307. snuggling with Joe first thing in the morning before anyone else is awake
2308. my monkeys climbing trees
2309. a good 5K race
2310. packing Jacob and Lydia for camp {and the fact that they mostly pack themselves and we just double check makes it extra-great!!}
2311. having my clothesline functional once again
2312. a perfect summer day
2313. a fun housewarming party for good friends with a beautiful, perfect new home
2314. having church at home {they van needs some work}
2315. two kids safely dropped off at camp for the week
2316. family bike ride
2317. TONS of fun old cars in town for the weekend :: sitting on Snelling watching them drive by. a few even honked their fabulous horns {horns sounded so much better in the 50's and 60's. way more unique than they are now}
2318. an evening spent at the park
2319. organizing 5 kids worth of came-home-on-the-last-day-of-school papers
2320. crafting
2321. when your kids do things that surprise you and bless your socks right off
2322. a great husband who supports, encourages and loves me when I'm not doing so great {and when I am}
2323. prayer
2324. the funny things our kids say, that make my day

Alrighty, that's it's for now. Tune in next Monday for the next installment.

seven

Seven years ago today we were introduced to this little man. This bird-skinny, crazy-haired little man.

4.19.05

skinny little arms and legs :: about 3 months old

that hair!

He's been counting down to this day for months. I doubt it will live up to all the hype, but today is his birthday. His seventh birthday. Seven! Wow.

This seventh year has been, by far, the toughest yet for this little guy. Although it is all of our story -- living through this year -- I'll let it be Joe's story and not "air" his stuff to the entire cyber world. But, believe me, it's been a pretty rough 9 months or so around here. By far our toughest parenting {probably whole of life} struggle and challenge so far, piled on top of the normal, day-to-day struggles and challenges of a big family. We're not ignorant enough to think we won't have other struggles. Worse struggles. There are 8 of us who are fiercely interconnected and who fiercely love each other, so there's gonna be plenty of pain and struggle. It's pretty clear that we can count on it. {Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. James 1.2-3 :: it clearly says "whenever you face trials", not "if you face trials".} So, we know this probably isn't the worst of it. But so far, it is our worst and that's no fun.

"I'm this many!"

a typical Joe face::

A bit about Joe at 7 ::

• he shares a room with Sara, on the main floor across the hall from us
• he LOVES Legos. especially the Ninjago collection.
• his reading coach at school is named Fred {he is my friend, Laura's dad and Joe's friend, Maya's grandpa}. Joe loves Fred!
• he's {mostly} over superheros -- after a run that lasted nearly half his lifetime!
  
• he is an exceptionally popular guy! at conferences his teacher told us that one day in class they made "friendship wheels" where everyone wrote down a few of the people they consider to be their friends and Joe's name was on nearly everyone's wheel. far and away, the teacher told us, Joe was named more than anyone else on his classmates wheels.
• he is a great jump-roper
• he is in an after school Lego club through community ed and he LOVES it.
• Lego club is on Thursdays, which means today he gets a birthday AND to go to Lego club. it's a red-letter day!
• he can be so sweet and loving.
• he takes up an entire queen sized bed when he sleeps . . . and he grinds his teeth!
• he got glasses this year -- and big teeth in the front -- and looks cuter than ever, if you ask me!
• he claims his favorite food is candy, but he also likes macaroni and cheese.
• earlier this year he banged his tooth/mouth on the dining room table and chipped the table. the table, not the tooth . . . kid's got a hard head!
• he is always -- I really mean always, like as in constantly, without stopping -- making noise. usually he's not talking, just making random Joe-ish sound effects.
• he had these corduroy pants with skulls on them that were hand-me-downs that he LOVED and wore through both knees from wearing them nearly every day this winter.
  
• we love him like crazy and can't imagine our family without him.
  

Joe has had a cold lately {so have a bunch of us} and last night his cough was exceptionally bad and he couldn't sleep, so he came in bed with us. It wasn't "us" for long, though, as Kirb decided to relocate to the couch. So, Joe and I were snuggled in bed . . . Joe coughing and coughing. For a while it was nearly constant and he couldn't sleep. He was pretty miserable and at one point a little after 1 he said to me "When will it be morning?". It was probably 3:30 when he {and, consequently, when I} finally fell asleep. He was up again before 6:30 -- even though he usually sleeps until at least 7 or 7:30 -- because, after all, you've got to maximize your big day. Hopefully he'll still be awake and functional when it's time for Lego club! We'll just have to see, I guess.

off to the bus on his 7th birthday
{his backpack is OLD and the front pouch has a broken zipper. maybe next year he'll get a new one. one that wasn't a hand-me-down. one in which all the zippers work . . . we'll see!}::

thankful thursday

Today I'm thankful for boring. Mundane. Normal.

We've witnessed, been somehow part of, or heard about many tragedies or general extra-tough stuff the past few days and are thankful that none of them have directly involved us.

• A 12-year-old boy that only lives a few blocks from us {although we didn't know him} died in a tragic accident while playing at the park with a friend. The park we always go to. The park that is nearly in our backyard . . . less than a block from our house.
• A classmate of Lydia's had open heart surgery at Mayo this week.
  
• We were supposed to be getting out-of-town company today {Kirb's brother and his family}, but they had to cancel their trip to attend a funeral. A mother of 3, married to a co-worker of Kirby's brother, who died in a tragic car accident this week. {So, if you want a little get-away -- and you consider staying at a house with 7 crazy people a get-away -- come on over! The sheets are clean, the beds are made the floors and bathroom in the basement are all shiny and cleaner than they've been in quite some time! Clean towels are rolled up decoratively and welcomingly in a basket. I was planning to make yummy muffins for breakfast. Lots of fun plans you could take over if you're interested!}
• My parents couldn't come or go from their house for a while yesterday. The bank a couple blocks from their house in their quiet, "small town" neighborhood in St. Paul was held up. A teller was taken hostage and shots were fired at a police officer. As far as I know, the man still is "at large" {which I have always found to be a funny phrase}.

So, I'm thankful for my routine week. My "bored" kids who think their parents are cruel and unfair to make them do things such as go to bed at a normal hour, not play Wii for hours on end, do a household chore or two here and there and do the equivalent of 10 or 15 minutes of school-ish work each day over the summer. I'm thankful that, although it made me significantly crabby, the worst thing that happened to me yesterday was that a sudden downpour! that came from nowhere while we were driving home from having a little family fun {and checking one more thing off our "summer list"} completely drenching my laundry that was outside "drying." 3 loads of laundry. Most of it folded and in piles on the picnic table next to my clothesline waiting for owners of the clean clothes to take their "stack" to their room and put it away. The work I'd spent nearly my entire day doing! In the grand scheme of things, that's nothing. Nothing at all! The funeral for Carter {the little boy who died less than a block from my house a few days ago, who could have just as easily been one of my kids. Or one of yours.} starts in less than 3 hours and will be taking place at the church about 12 houses down the block from here. Excuse me while I go hug my kids and quit complaining about my wet laundry! Our deepest sympathies, thoughts and prayers are with Carter's family and all who knew and loved him.

Thankful Thursday

It seems to have been an especially rough couple weeks in the world . . . my little world anyway. It seems like every day or two lately I've heard of a tragic death. None of them have been someone close to me, but someone close to someone I'm close to::a co-worker of Kirby's, a young woman who seems to have had a connection to most everyone I know, the unborn baby of my friend's sister-in-law, a local police officer . . . all just in the past week or two. Plus there have been other less-tragic, but still big, world-rocking sadness and tough times in the lives of those around me as well::job loss, chemo, awaiting results of tests {waiting is always so hard!}, unwelcome diagnosis, unanswered questions, seemingly futile job hunts, people with jobs that are a bad fit and make them miserable, major financial troubles . . . so many people are struggling.

It opens your eyes afresh to the fact that we can't take anyone, any day, anything at all for granted. I want to learn from this to love those around me more. Better. To make sure they know how much I love them. Hug the kiddos a little tighter. Re-evaluate how I spend my time, my energy . . . where I choose to be "happy Shana" and where I am a grump . . . and why on earth I let the most important people see the yuckiest me!

I have so very much to be thankful for::a way-better-than-average husband who loves me, 6 amazing kiddos {can't wait to meet that 6th one!}, great parents, an extended family that I love, wonderful friends and a fabulous community of people around me. I am thankful for the chance to remember once again how blessed I am and how very much I have to be thankful for in my life!

With Mother's Day this weekend, I am extra thankful for my mom. She is simply wonderful::kind, thoughtful, generous, a great friend {to me and others}, talented, patient, adorable. She hasn't had it too easy for much of her life, but you wouldn't know it. She sure is a trooper . . . I'm so glad she's mine. I love you, Mom!

I know Mother's Day is a tough one for lots of people::those with a rocky relationship with their mom, those who would like to be a mom {or a mom again} but aren't, mom's who have strained or broken relationships with one {or more} of their kids, those who have lost their mom {recently or years and years ago . . . I imagine that one never gets much easier}. What is a happy day of celebration for many brings pain and sadness to others. That just makes me sad! If you are one of those people, know that I'll be thinking of you this weekend and that I am thankful for you too!