Sacred Moments: Celebrating Fall

Throwback to October 2009

 Talia's first baking experience

 Talia & Daddy going on a date

 October at the Louisville Zoo

 Best Buddies!

 The birthday of all things Cars

The birthday boy in bliss 

 Lightning McQueen cake

Create-a-Car at Benj's party 

 Happy baby Leila

 Playing outside in the fall

Leila was always happy 

 Those eyes!

 Benjamin's contageous smile

The Princess & The Frog

Sacred Moments: Check Out These Cuties

Here is my first installment of Project Get-My-Family-Photos-In-Order. September 2009. Oh the cuteness.

 Benj recovering from his first hospitalization

 Happy to have his Daddy near

 Post-hospital lunch

 I remember being so happy sitting here with him just after being released from the hospital

 Sooo Talia

 Can't handle the cuteness!

 Cindyloo Who

 Leila & Daddy just talkin'

 Perfectly illustrates Benj & Talia's adorable little friendship at that stage

 First night in her "big girl" bed

Be still my heart!

The Missional Impact of Motherhood

This afternoon I was reminded of a Truth that I have not considered well in a long time:

Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled. (Titus 2:3-5)

Perhaps it struck me so forcefully because in the last two years we have made major adjustments in our life in order to live missionally - that is, to be intentional with our lives for the sake of the Gospel of God's lavish grace. As a family, and individually, we regularly consider how we can best position ourselves to show the true nature of God's love to those around us. I often wonder how I can be effective in this task when my days are so full of laundry, dishes, homeschooling, changing diapers, disciplining, and picking up, yet here in this familiar snippet of Scripture is one hugely obvious avenue of gospel influence within my realm! The way I live my life - my love for my husband and children, my work in my home, my character, my actions - can cause others to see the beauty in the Word of God or give them ammunition to discredit it openly or perhaps just disregard it's power.

To be perfectly honest I have gotten lost in the busy days, the messy rooms, the discipline, the many many many many words, the irritations... and have largely forgotten the sacred purpose to the tasks God has given me. I want to better celebrate the unique influence God has given me for His kingdom by embracing my roles, no matter how mundane and menial they may seem at times.

Toward this end I am planning to start a project I have had on my mind over the past few weeks and post my progress on the blog. I am seriously behind on keeping up with our family photographs. Seth suggested that I tackle one month's worth of pictures per week, putting them in a folder and choosing favorites for a book. When I finish one year's worth I can make a digital scrapbook on a photo site for that year. While I'm at it I will post my favorite blasts from the past on the blog. Sounds like a plan to me! And in the process I hope to remember that these are sacred moments. As a friend frequently reminds me via her facebook posts, "The days are long but the years are short."

This I Know

It has been a ridiculously long time since I have written anything here and who knows if anyone visits this dusty ol' corner of the internet anymore. But it seemed an appropriate place to process out some thoughts about a significant experience our family had this year on Christmas afternoon.

After a relaxing day of opening presents and spending time as a family, we piled into the van to go to a friend's house for Christmas dinner. We all marveled at how the snowfall from the night before had given us the quintessential White Christmas we all dream and sing about. We were almost to our destination when disaster struck in the form of a patch of slush on a freeway on-ramp. We lost traction and ultimately spun 180 degrees, slamming into the concrete barrier, and coming to a stop on the shoulder. The engine was sputtering so Seth turned the car off and started to make phone calls. Meanwhile, I got into the backseat to check on the kids. Everyone was shaken up, but unharmed. After I was satisfied that the kids were not hurt, I tried to get back to my seat, but I was unable to open the sliding door from the inside. I squatted down in the space between the seat and the door and prayed that other drivers would slow down. Unfortunately, the slushy patch continued to present a hazard and two other cars lost control, hitting each other further up the ramp. Then a fourth car hit the same patch and came sliding straight for us. We had hardly any time to react before it slammed into the front of our car. The kids were terrified, but mostly unhurt (Channah did have a tiny gash on her chin). Seth was badly bruised on his forearm and had some other bumps and bruises, but my head struck the plastic handle of Judah's infant carrier and I sustained a pretty nasty laceration to my forehead. Shortly after the second impact a friend arrived to transport the kids to safety. I got to visit the ER where they called in a plastic surgeon to stitch up my head, but thankfully determined that I was otherwise in tact. About 4 hours after the accident we were reunited with the kids in the safety of our friends' home. Needless to say it was a Christmas we will never forget.

I share this story in part for the value of written memory, one that will now be part of our family story. But what compels me to write is to record part of a much bigger story, the unfolding of which has been powerful to the point of utterly overwhelming me. From the very beginning of this journey - as early as the moments I lay alone in the ER - I knew God had protected us. Images of what could have been came unbidden to my mind. I knew that I could have easily lost my husband or my life if circumstances had been only slightly different. Later I realized God's hand of protection once again as I learned that Benj & Leila had also taken their seat belts off after the first crash. I knew that God was good. But that He was about to take this horrific circumstance and use it for great good, many times over, did not enter my mind.

Our church has recently been studying the biblical picture of the church as a body. We have been learning that we need each other and can not expect to function without the support of those God has placed together in the family we call Hope Church. We have been privileged to have a front row seat from which to witness the body of Christ functioning as a unit. Seth and I, as individual parts of the body, were not capable of functioning on our own through many aspects of these past couple of weeks. We found ourselves time and time again in places of need, large and small, and our church family responded with the true love Jesus says His followers have for each other:

"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth." (I John 3:16-18) 

We have been loved well! Not just with words, but with actions. Dear friends risked their safety on the dangerous roads that night to bring us to safety and to be with us in the hospital. Dinner plans, skype calls, transportation plans, and sleeping arrangements were interrupted and rearranged. It was decided (mostly for the sake of our frightened children) that we would spend the night where we were. Our friends sacrificially gave up their own bed for us and slept on couches so that we could rest well that night. Words of concern and compassion poured in, prayers were lifted up. And this love continued far beyond these first expressions. The next few days were a jumble of painful details, emotions, and physical repercussions. Our Hope Church family responded immediately, generously, and practically providing meals for several nights and impromptu babysitting on several occasions.

Knowing our only car was totalled, we began to discuss how we would go about replacing it. We were forced to face the fact that while 6 months or a year ago we could have paid cash for a used vehicle in an emergency situation, we could no longer do so. We have been hit hard financially over the past year with many different unexpected expenses that have been completely out of our control. As we discussed our financial situation all the tears that I had not yet cried came pouring out. For me, this was the lowest point emotionally.

A couple of days later we received a large gift from some very dear friends from a former church we attended. We were humbled and so blessed by their generosity. It was a much-needed boost of encouragement. A couple of days after that, we came home after looking at the fifth van in three days. We were a little discouraged because we wanted to buy it but not having money in hand and unable to secure the loan we were applying for that day, we lost it to another buyer. There was a little envelope in the mail from some other friends. Inside were not only experienced and wise words of comfort and encouragement, but also another large gift. The very distinct thought came into my heart that this was God's way of saying to me, "See? I'm taking care of you." I shared these incredible blessings with a close friend of mine and she commented, "When the circulation is cut off to the hands and feet the heart and lungs work harder." Again, the beauty of the imagery of a body caring for its individual parts for the well-being of the whole hit me with its power. Just as the EMT at the scene of the accident had taken steps to stem the flow of blood from my head, our brothers and sisters in Christ were working sacrificially and tirelessly to stop the bleeding in a metaphorical sense. The next morning we were further blessed by our church family as they gave generously to help us with our financial needs. Again, we were humbled, encouraged, joyful and grateful for how abundantly God was providing.

A little over a week after the accident we purchased a used van in good condition. Not wanting to keep the expensive rental car through the entire settlement process, we took out a somewhat modest loan to pay for the car and were soon sitting in our new car. Shortly after everything was finalized, we received a call from a family member. In the course of that conversation we again experienced amazing provision as we learned that we were going to receive a third large gift. 30 minutes after we took out a loan we did not want we had the means to pay off a large portion of it. A few days later Seth received a check from our church for the amount of the offering that had been received on Sunday. We were overwhelmed by the generosity and sacrifice of our precious church family. With that gift God had provided for us the exact amount we needed to pay off the car - with $10 to spare!

In my mind everything had now come full circle. But God wasn't done yet. The next day Seth came home from work and told me he had talked to the total-loss adjuster from the insurance company that day. In all the details, I had completely forgotten about the insurance settlement for the car! It had been an older van that had a few issues. We weren't expecting a huge settlement, but still, in that moment I thought it would be awesome if it was a few hundred dollars to help us pay for the rental and registration fees for the new van. The amount he handed me on a piece of paper was larger than I was expecting. My eyes overflowed right along with my heart. Later we realized that the settlement would cover not only the rental and registration, but also a couple of repairs we need to make on the new van AND help pay off the small amount remaining on a loan we had to take out because of the huge loss we sustained last year on the sale of our house.

This fall I have wrestled with some discontentment over what God was requiring of us - continuing large-scale financial loss and prolonged living in a cramped apartment. I have been learning to discipline myself to act on my belief that God is love and His will is always best. When we had the accident I remember thinking, "I guess this is why God pressed me so hard to surrender our housing situation because now we will be in the apartment for a lot longer." Little did I know that He would use this situation to actually bless us financially! I have learned through this experience that God truly works for our good. It's not just a nice thing to say.

Another significant experience for me was seeing God care for me in ways only He could. There were times when my thoughts and emotions caused me to panic and experience great fear. In many of those moments I prayed for peace and He gave it to me. For many days I experienced battles with intense emotional lows. I asked Him to restore my joy and He did. I leaned on God and found Him to be my rock.

The last huge spiritual lesson for me, so far, has been the most amazing of all. I mentioned a close friend with whom I was sharing this journey in pretty specific detail. I texted her when we received the check from the church and she texted back that she had fallen to the floor crying. She had been praying for a specific amount, and God had answered (with $10 to spare). She said the fact that God clearly answered "yes" to a specific prayer gave her hope she had not had in a long time. This was hugely significant because over the past couple of years she has had some incredibly difficult circumstances to deal with. A couple of months ago the past 2 years culminated in a situation that brought even more significant heartache. Since that time I had been particularly impressed with a heart to pray for hope for her. A direct result of our accident is that God has begun to answer that prayer. That He can take a terrible circumstance and turn it around, not only for our good, but for the good of someone I care about deeply is overwhelming to me.

I am so thankful for the things God is teaching me through this difficult season. I understand joy in the pain so much more clearly than I ever have before.

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5

I know this to be true - not only because I choose in faith to believe it - but because my heart has experienced it.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year 2014

I gave up on ever getting Christmas cards sent out a long time ago (in practice, not in my heart) so here is a little New Year's greeting from the Rodriquez Fam.

Talia's Art Party

I've been realizing lately how far behind I am on our family chronicles. But... better late than never.

For her 7th birthday Talia decided she would like to have an arts & crafts party, which, if you don't know her is highly appropriate for my creative girl. And of course the color scheme for anything Talia-related must be rainbow. Thus was born Talia's Art Party. It was a lot of work, but also super fun!

Invitation

We made a gallery of Talia's favorite art projects from the past couple of years

We had stations with different art activities, like watercolor painting

Button mosaics

Each kid painted their own canvas. All of the paintings turned out so cute and unique!

 

We had a drying line for the various projects

She picked this birthday cake from the choices I gave her from Pinterest

The inside of the cake

Girl friends enjoying their cake!

A Painful Lesson In Humility

It has been over a week and I still feel sick every time I think about it. But I am also thankful.

It was Saturday morning and the day my girls had been looking forward to for weeks... their first true ballet recital. Costumes, make-up, the whole deal. And Mima was here to see it! They were so excited!

We got up early, bathed the girls and washed their hair. I brushed their ponytails to smooth perfection, twisting and rolling them into fat ballerina buns. I applied a little foundation, powder, and blush to their shining faces. We even topped it off with a little swipe of glitter on their eyelids and a sprinkle in their hair.

We were right on time. Walking out the door at exactly the time we planned. The costumes were in the car as we scheduled in plenty of time to dress when we got there. With a smile I even tucked a last minute tube of lip gloss and bottle of shimmery body spray into my purse. Everything was perfect.

We got to the recital hall just as planned. Seth was going to drop us off and take Benj to go pick up some roses for the ballerinas while they dressed. They would be back in plenty of time to get great seats. I opened the back of the van to retrieve the costumes...and that's when it hit me.

I had forgotten the ballet bag.

The bag that contained their ballet shoes, tights, and extra costume pieces (including, but not limited to the feather trimmed gloves that were Leila's absolute favorite part of her costume.) Yes, that bag. I was horrified.

Suddenly our perfect morning was thrown into chaos. Seth sped away leaving my mom and I with the girls and costumes. The gravity of the situation began to hit me. We live 35 minutes away, at best. There was just an hour until the recital began. Not even enough time for him to get home and back, not to mention to dress the girls. Right there on the sidewalk I burst into tears. "I'm so sorry, girls," I choked out.

Knowing I had to pull it together and be the adult, I decided we would get them dressed so at least they would be as ready as they could be. We dressed and prayed for Daddy to get back as quickly as possible.

We went upstairs to the backstage area where I explained my colossal mistake to the teachers, telling them that there was really no way Seth would be back before the recital started. They assured me that it probably wouldn't start on time and that they would adjust the order of the routines, if necessary, to give as much time as possible to get the needed items. I spent about half an hour with the girls, trying to reassure and encourage them. I put on a smile and told my sad Leila that Daddy was bringing her gloves. Our friends showed up and had an extra pair of tights that fit Leila, which I put on her. I saved seats in the auditorium and then, even though I knew it was way too early, I went to wait out front about 15 minutes before the performance started.

My stomach was in knots. I felt physically sick. How could I let my girls down so badly? How could I be so stupid as to go off and forget nearly everything they needed for their special day? I'll be honest, that bag didn't even cross my mind that morning. What was wrong with me?

In my heart I cried out to the Lord. Over and over I begged Him to somehow save the day. "Please, God. Don't let me let my girls down. Don't let me break their hearts.... Please ease Seth's way.... Please help him to get here in time.... Please.... Please.... Please, God." I was pacing and wringing my hands, a nervous wreck. As I paced and prayed, it hit me.

Only the day before, as we were preparing to go to the dress rehearsal I had been so hard on Talia because we couldn't find her ballet shoes. They weren't in the bag. I had called the rec center where we go to their lessons and they didn't have them either. I lectured her about responsibility and keeping her mind on what she's doing and how sooner or later irresponsibility is going to cost her. "Now you don't have ballet shoes for your recital," I had said with an air of superiority. (We later found that her shoes had gotten into her friend's bag and received them back at the rehearsal.)

Now it came to my heart. No. NOW she didn't have shoes for her recital. And it wasn't her fault, it was mine. I had no grace for her mistake in not keeping track of her shoes when we still had a whole day to find them and now I was begging for God's grace to cover MY mistake in completely forgetting them (and a whole lot more) when it truly mattered. I knew in that moment that I never wanted to forget the pain of that realization: that I expected perfection out of my little girl that I could not even deliver myself. I had no grace for her mistakes, pridefully expecting that somehow I was bigger and better than that.

The truth is no matter how much I plan, no matter how "on top of it" I feel, all my best efforts are not enough. I am not better. I am just the same. I am a mere human being with faults and limitations, with good intentions, but a finite ability to carry them out. The expectation my kids should exhibit the values I have taught them to perfection is ridiculous. And the idea that being a "good mom" equates with perfectly ordered rows of ducks is categorically false. In truth, the better my plans work out -feeding my pride in my own abilities- the worse mom I tend to be. I fight, trying with all my might to keep all the balls in the air, to keep everything under control, to be everything, do everything. And I forget my need.

Quite simply, I need Jesus. I need his strength to accomplish the most important tasks each day. I need his peace to quiet the anxiety in this season of our life that some days threatens to overcome me. I need his Spirit to control me, giving me life-giving words to say, wisdom to teach and correct, love to spill out over my children. I need his grace to cover my gross inadequacies, even when I am too prideful to admit they are there.

And so I prayed that God would never, never let me forget that day, but use it to humble me and remind me to give mercy, grace, and compassion to my children, remembering that we all need those tender gifts.

Around 11:15 Seth pulled around the corner and thrust the bag out of the driver's window into my hands. I ran into the building and up the stairs, searching through the bag as I ran, rummaging for shoes and accessories. I entered the backstage area and literally threw Leila's shoes and accessories at her feet. Another teacher ran up to me asking for Talia's shoes, telling me that her class was in que to go on-stage. The recital had started on-time, at 11:00 and all the classes had already performed except for Talia's and Leila's classes.

I hurried into the auditorium and down the aisle to my seat as Talia's class was filing up the opposite aisle onto the stage. A second later, as the teacher arranged the girls on the dark stage, Benj slid into the seat beside me. Seth had found an open parking space in the closest lot to the recital hall and had come in right behind me. Right on cue he whipped out the video camera as the stage lights went up.

Talia was tights-less, in shoes she borrowed from an earlier dancer. But her face lit up as she saw her Daddy and brother. She danced beautifully.

Next Leila's class filed onto the stage. Leila was leading the line, fully costumed, gloves and all, with a radiant smile. She was clearly tickled pink with the experience of performing and danced with adorable charm.

I am so thankful. I am thankful that God redeemed my mistake, allowing it to be a beautiful memory after all. I am thankful for the sweet spirit of forgiveness and even compassion my precious girls extended to me in my weakness. I am thankful that Seth and Benj (and Channah) were safe during their hurried trip. I am thankful that none of us missed even a moment of the performance. I am thankful for the way the teachers extended grace to me and cared so sweetly for my girls. And so much more. But most of all I am thankful for the painful lesson in humility that reminded me that the measure of a mom is not a standard of perfection, but rather a rule of love, compassion, and grace. Lord Jesus, help me never forget!

My sweet ballerinas, post-recital