I spent much of the past weekend with my husband’s cousins who have small children and watching them. A thought had started to creep into my mind. That I am robbing our parents of some great years of being grandparents. Now we don’t know the age of the children we will receive but they will probably be a little older. I do feel like I am robbing our parents of some on the most precious and sweet years in a child’s years. They will not experience stories, pictures or videos of first. There is so much that will not get to experience with our children because they will already be passed. I realize that a choice we made has rob them of many things that makes being a grandparent such a wonderful experience, there will be no birth announcements, no pictures of a swelling belly, no new little life to hold, no rolling over to watch, no first steps to wait for, no first words, and a good chance of no first day of kindergarten. For this I am sorry. I’m sorry that they will not have the moments. I’m sorry that I’ve rob them of some very sweet things. So do we change our minds, and not rob our parents? Or do we rob and maybe give someone else something better?
However on the other side of all this, we are giving much more. We are giving a child a home with a loving family. We are giving a child something they may have given hope for receiving something they may have given up on ever having. We have the chance of removing a child from place that is very dark. We have the chance of healing wounds caused by other people. We have the chance of breaking a link in a very destructive chain. Most of all we give hope and the kind of hope that Christ has given to me. Hope that things can change and things can better.
In the end they still get to be grandparents. They aren’t robbed entirely of the joys of the grandparent life. They may still get a few first. The firsts the get to experience maybe even better. That first moment when a child realizes how much better this life is going be. The first moment of realizing they are now safe. When making choices, I think we need to look at the cost. It will cost our family some very sweet moments, we are sacrificing some great gifts. When looking at what will be gained, we have no idea how much good we'll bring in this life into our family will do. We have no idea how people will change or respond. In comparison, the things that are lost are nothing compared to the things that might be gained. Isn’t this what Christ did for us? Didn’t he sacrifice much, to gain more? Aren’t we called to be like Christ? Shouldn’t we sacrifice much, to gain even more?
Yes, I will choice to rob our parents to give something bigger and better to someone else.
Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. James 1:27
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Why I hate Alaska...
While doing Project Barnabas, I met a guy who getting stationed at JBER, which is the base down in Anchorage. He and I spent a lot of time talking about Alaska. I did my best to talk it up and make it sound great. However, being an easy person to read, on the last night he asked what my real opinion of Alaska was. I put it like this: So high school was like the 4 worst years of life, I have never been so miserable in life ever, and will never go back to reunion. If I was given the choice to go back to high or live in Alaska for another 3 years, I would choice high school.
It's very simple. I'm not completely over my depression. Under normal circumstances, it is under control and doesn't effect me. However, Alaska isn't normal. Also, I knew that I had SAD, seasonal affective disorder, the loss of sunlight in the winter in Phoenix, had an effect on me. It was harder to get out bed, and the depression got worse too. In Phoenix, we probably lost 2 hours of daylight at the most. For those of you living outside of Alaska and have no idea how it isn't normal, let me explain the winter to you. It starts snowing at the end of September, it doesn't stick until October. We get a good 2-3 feet of snow that doesn't go anywhere until about mid April, if stops snowing in April. After June 23 we start losing daylight until Dec 2. Now when the sun is setting at 1am and raising at 3am, you don't really notice the lose of daylight, but come September, it's start to look like a normal day, and then you continue to lose daylight. The best way to describe it like this come November until about February, if I don't have recess duty, I didn't get to feel sunlight on my skin, and when I was going outside I was wearing so much stuff, I didn't really get to feel the sun on my skin. It was also extremely cold. Especially coming from Phoenix, Fairbanks doesn't see many day above 0. It is dark, cold, and there is snow on the ground from October until April. This is hard to deal with. After my first winter I came to this conclusion: 1.) You must be really broken to live in Alaska or 2.) I'm too broken to be living in Alaska. I'm pretty sure it's more 2.) now that I've done 3 winters.
Now I don't want to think that Alaska had been awful and the last three years have been unbearable for me. It has had some good moments. God has taught me a lot about Him, and myself. Things I couldn't learn in a normal place that doesn't have such extremes. I've gotten to meet a lot of wonderful people here. I've made heaven a little sweeter and bigger reunion party. I was able to regain my love for teaching and realized that I'm not the awful teacher my first two principals tried to tell I was. I was doing it right by loving my students as much as I do, and that wasn't mistake or the wrong way to do it. I learned to paint, and started dancing. I started taking an active role in the women's ministry and started on the road to what good has called me to do with that.
If we come back what would I do differently? First off we would buy a sunlight. Second, I would talk with my doctor about drug therapy for it, taking vitamin D wasn't enough. Third, if these things didn't help, I would tell James much sooner.
It's very simple. I'm not completely over my depression. Under normal circumstances, it is under control and doesn't effect me. However, Alaska isn't normal. Also, I knew that I had SAD, seasonal affective disorder, the loss of sunlight in the winter in Phoenix, had an effect on me. It was harder to get out bed, and the depression got worse too. In Phoenix, we probably lost 2 hours of daylight at the most. For those of you living outside of Alaska and have no idea how it isn't normal, let me explain the winter to you. It starts snowing at the end of September, it doesn't stick until October. We get a good 2-3 feet of snow that doesn't go anywhere until about mid April, if stops snowing in April. After June 23 we start losing daylight until Dec 2. Now when the sun is setting at 1am and raising at 3am, you don't really notice the lose of daylight, but come September, it's start to look like a normal day, and then you continue to lose daylight. The best way to describe it like this come November until about February, if I don't have recess duty, I didn't get to feel sunlight on my skin, and when I was going outside I was wearing so much stuff, I didn't really get to feel the sun on my skin. It was also extremely cold. Especially coming from Phoenix, Fairbanks doesn't see many day above 0. It is dark, cold, and there is snow on the ground from October until April. This is hard to deal with. After my first winter I came to this conclusion: 1.) You must be really broken to live in Alaska or 2.) I'm too broken to be living in Alaska. I'm pretty sure it's more 2.) now that I've done 3 winters.
Now I don't want to think that Alaska had been awful and the last three years have been unbearable for me. It has had some good moments. God has taught me a lot about Him, and myself. Things I couldn't learn in a normal place that doesn't have such extremes. I've gotten to meet a lot of wonderful people here. I've made heaven a little sweeter and bigger reunion party. I was able to regain my love for teaching and realized that I'm not the awful teacher my first two principals tried to tell I was. I was doing it right by loving my students as much as I do, and that wasn't mistake or the wrong way to do it. I learned to paint, and started dancing. I started taking an active role in the women's ministry and started on the road to what good has called me to do with that.
If we come back what would I do differently? First off we would buy a sunlight. Second, I would talk with my doctor about drug therapy for it, taking vitamin D wasn't enough. Third, if these things didn't help, I would tell James much sooner.
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