Ordinary Greatness

Sighing, the light air chases the whispy strands of hair that have been dancing around her face. She leans over her little one, one arm restraining him from twisting and turning, the other flying back and forth, wiping and folding, preparing to cover him back up.  His "no, no, no's" finally morph into the screams she is much more familiar with, and he whips his body around.  Those little legs, kicking. Those arms, punching the air.

Exasperated, she leans back, resting on the heels of her feet. Why is this such a battle? Who knew a fresh diaper would cause such strife?  She allows the back of her hand to wipe the front of her brow, and pushes back her falling hair.  Sigh.  She's spent. Exhausted.  It's the end of the day, she realizes. She just wants to give in.

She strains her neck, searching for her other half and gathers up the items covering the floor to hand over.  Enter scene: her eldest son.  The inquisitive three-year old looks quizzically at his tantrum-throwing brother on the floor, and then rests his eyes on her.  He is holding a shiny, new gadget. Looks like a book light. Oh yes, most likely the one she had tucked away, hidden in a drawer, probably from her night stand.

She hears her husband, and returns to relinquish her noble duties.  She has it all nearly bundled together and barely misses the growing light beside her; a brilliant star shining against the black of the night.  The boy, under no obligation but his own, kneels down next to his little brother and offers him a chance at the shiny, metallic prize.  The littlest hands reach it and just as immediately as the chaos began, the calm returns.  Exhale.

Pausing the task at hand, she glances up to soak in his innocent, beautiful face. "Aw Cj, that was so nice. You are one, good, big brother! Thank you."  His dad, kneels down, places his hands on his small shoulders and looks him square in the eye, "You. Are amazing." The toddler looks over at his parents, obviously unaware of his act of altruism until that moment. He starts, "well he just…" His tiny voice fades and he reaches up, his arms extending towards both mom and dad.  Completely overcome by the unexpected reaction from his parents, the sweet little voice returns,

"I love you guys soooo much."

I wanted to capture an everyday moment that occurred earlier this evening… written for this week's writing prompt: Falling at Studio 30+

Kudos …to me!

So I received news that I am featured as the 'Member of the Week' over at Studio30+ and I'm pumped!

I mean, I could be all bashful and say, aw you shouldn't have.  But honestly, I'm so thrilled! Thank you! It's nice to receive encouragement, and I'll take it in whatever form it comes.

Especially when it is from a community of writers that I truly admire.

I appreciate creativity - in all its forms - and I find writing to be just one of many artistic avenues to participate in. I don't always do it perfectly and it isn't always the best stuff out there on the entire world wide web, but I enjoy it and am glad to share it with whoever is inspired to read. There is so much beauty to be found in the creating process - in the here and now - not just in the masterpiece itself.

I just read another blogger encouraging us to celebrate in times like these {emphasis mine} :

"... you can celebrate what you’ve had the courage to put out there. And the point is not to get it picked up. The point is to put it out there in the most honest, true-to-you way possible, and it will connect. So if you haven’t put it out there, please, put it out there. Don’t be afraid. Don’t wait until it’s perfect.

The trolls will always be trolls, but there are so many more beautiful and generous people who will receive what you give, whose heart will break because of the beauty of who you are and what you’re willing to pour out."

So true. 

…and thanks =)

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Mother's Day

So in lieu of a mother's day post (and yes it's late) I thought I would repost from a friend of mine (and distant cousin) because she wrote this very beautiful and encouraging piece. Her and her husband are currently co-directors of Miqueas 6:8 (a Honduran non-profit Christian organization that operates a Children’s Home, "Hogar Miqueas" in the village of La Colorada, Honduras). They serve as parents to just under 40 children there, and that is just one among the many hats they wear.  You can follow them on Facebook here and read her amazing blog at Underneath the Mango Tree.

Mother's Day
by Melody Cherian

After coming off the high of Mother’s day (I have 38 kids), I started to think about the day we celebrate mothers.

I am an adoptive mother. To the older children, I am their Tia, to my medium children (who vaguely remember their biological mothers) I am their Tia Mami and to my little ones (16 of them), I am Mami. I am all they know, I am their mother.

In a country like Honduras adoption is not a common thing, in the Indian culture, adoption is not a common thing. People cannot fathom how you can love a child that is not biologically yours and how you can treat them like your own. Some people do not value the parenthood of adoptive parents because the child is not ‘yours’.

Often when I am out with the children, people ask if the child is mine (Honduran people are forward). This is usually how the conversation goes;

stranger: suya (yours)?

me: si

stranger: suya suya (yours, yours)?

me: si

stranger: suya suya, como suya… (yours yours, like yours…)?

me: siiiiii…

Then after a weird look they’ll ask if the child came from my stomach. These days I just say yes, because what my child hears is more important then what a stranger thinks. There will be a time when I tell them the ‘truth’, however telling a stranger they are not mine is not something I think they need to hear at 3 years old.

Not once during Mother’s day did I think that these children are not mine, or that I did not give birth to them. I did however feel blessed to have the love of so many little people and their gratitude. My mother raised me to be a confident woman and in this I couldn’t care less if they came from my body or not or if people value my motherhood or not. I know who I am and I know how deep my love for my children runs.  God has given me an abundance of beautiful children and the task of raising them to know him.

I recently read a blog about a woman who wrote a letter to a Pastor explaining how many women feel uncomfortable in church on Mother’s Day. Not because they were honoring Mothers but because we as a society fail to recognize there are all different types of mothers and for some people, Mother’s Day, is a day of pain. We give these women no worth or value on this day. We do not recognize those who lost babies or children, or those who cannot have babies, those who have difficult children or absent children, we do not give worth to the foster mom or the mom who has had her children taken from her. We do not see the pain of the mom who is barely providing for her children and her sense of guilt and shame.  I feel for these women, maybe because it is these mothers who gave birth to my children.

As I was putting my babies to sleep, I started to think about their biological mothers and my heart started to grieve for them. How sad they must feel that on Mother’s day their children are not with them, or their children are being raised by strangers because they couldn’t, or their children will never recognize them as their mother.  In that moment I thanked God for the biological mothers of my kids. I prayed peace on their hearts and I prayed that they would know that they are valued and appreciated. I am in no position to judge them, to make comments on why they do not have their children, that’s not my place at all. Being a mother is stressful, it’s hard, it takes a lot of energy, it’s emotional.  We’ve all had those close to the edge moments, the moments when we’re hanging on by a thread.  It is by grace and mercy that we survive and persevere, some of us are doing a little better than others, not by our own merit but by grace.

I’m not decreasing the importance of Mother’s day or how we should appreciate those who gave us life. I appreciate and Iove my mom. She is a good mom, she gave me everything I ever needed to live my life and most importantly, taught me how to give life to others.  It is because of the way she raised me, I am able to give myself to 38 children without reserve. I think it’s equally important to recognize on Mother’s day, all the mothers,  especially the ones who are hurting. Let’s not gloat in our successes or our children or our gifts but humbly remember it could easily be us in that place of despair and someone to hold our hand and tell us that we are valued would make this day a little more bearable.

- Melody

a forgetful people

It is incredibly hard not to watch my 2 and a half year old engage in whatever he is at play with. He is just so full of life. He loves to tell stories and run around for no good reason, and just come back and talk in full sentences. It's hard for me to contain myself sometimes. He's talking so much more and it's hard to believe he can talk more than he already does, but my day consists primarily of allowing him to run up right beside me, talking. Nonstop. Even when he can't think of the word he needs to use in his sentence/story/question/..., he'll figure out how to get his point across. It's remarkable. 

And he enjoys counting. Everything turns in to an opportunity to count with him. I have to say that's all Jus {or my brother} because I neglect the capacity to add or subtract.

I could write out an essay on it though. 

Or draw a picture.

Anyway its nice to know that when I need someone to comprehend quantity and structure and space...and numbers in general, I'll have my hubs and firstborn to look to. Who knows, maybe Tj will exemplify mathematical powers too. 

For now, Tj just seems to live perpetually in a 'what a wonderful' kind of 'world', and even more so when he sees me. He is always just so eager to catch my attention and then erupt in his woody-the-woodpecker cackling.  His sweet face turns from wonder to adoration and I revel in it.

Cj used to do that, but now it's like a distant memory. 

So now I find great delight Tj's all forgiving love.

More and more I am floored by how incredible it is to witness and even be participant to these little lives. To see these tiny persons sing and talk and think they are all grown up. I truly try not to miss any minute of it. 

And then I get overwhelmed by them. And by Him. 

How did I get to be so blessed? Who does this? Who allows me the miraculous opportunity to be part of something so precious? So real and so GOOD? And for all who know, it truly is a miracle.  I just too often ‘forget’. Even though I can’t ever really forget the life I've lived, I am also always reminded of God and of his goodness. 

"'Course He's not safe! But He's good. He's the King I tell you..."

{mr. beaver on aslan in the chronicles of narnia}

He is just so too good to me.

Thankful Thursdays: I'm not giving up

So back in another lifetime, I used to post on a blog of mine that was anonymous to the world wide web.  I was still posting on that one when I created this one, so when I came across Jason Mraz’ new video {at the time} "I Won't Give Up", I had to post it. I mentioned how I couldn’t help but think of my husband and of the life we’ve lived through.  Married couples go through much, but we have lived a life most don't ever expect to live.  

I can say, despite all the craziness that has happened, some things remain, and the one being this four letter word called Love. How can I rightly convey all that I have learned; all that I am grateful for? My husband, he teaches me so much and says so much and loves so much, despite of who I am, or really, of what I’ve done.  When I struggle with life or with what I think of me, Jus often says or does things that paint such a beautiful picture of who God is…and I am reminded once again of a powerful story of Love...of Truth...and of Grace...

of the One who transforms.


Last week, we set Storytellers to tape on our dvr and Jason Mraz was going through a few of his songs, talking about the behind the scenes on each. At first, we did it for Cj because he loves watching, or rather playing his guitar, with the concerts {seriously? what toddler is watching palladia as much as mine??} but then Jus and I really liked this song and truthfully, I just wanted to hear the story behind it.

To Write Love On Her Arms  {I will have to repost from my old blog about them at another time} shared this on Facebook last night and I was just reminded about all of these things, all over again. 


I had to share.

Get More: I Won't Give Up (VH1 Storytellers Sneak), Music Videos, Live Performances

"I've been given everything...and yet, one still experiences melancholy"

There are a many, many songs that capture the emotions and brilliantly speak the heart's language. If I were to go into each of them and why they captivate me for whatever reason that might be, I would have to dedicate an entire blog to such a project {ooh, an idea}.  So, for the time being, this is just one of the many that resonate with my being. 

If you are interested, this is the original video that caught my attention...

"I won't give up" by Jason Mraz

Thankful Thursdays

I don't mean to make every day of the week a specific something or other, but today I really did just want to just be thankful. I mean, with all that is said and done, this has been a seriously craaziee week - in so many ways, {as sort of outlined in an earlier post}. Yet, it has also been such a blessed week as well.  For starters, I am just wholly awe-struck when it comes to my boys. I was spiraling downward at times this week, just trying to keep my head above water, and then I would have these other-worldly moments where I would just get an opportunity to zoom out to see a much beautiful picture. Whether my almost 2 year old was running to get a towel to clean up some water I may have spilled, or my 5 month old laughing at something his older brother did, perspective was caught, and it was brilliant.

For some reason, this week Colin was just sooo good. He was just willing to listen to whatever I had to tell him, he was obedient, he would take his nap {he hates nap time} and he would just behave. It was heaven-sent. And then I often found myself staring, I mean just staring at him, while he was into whatever it was he was in to: coloring or watching something on tv or putting his puzzles together...I would just watch, silently, intently. His eyes, his nose, his little mouth that rambles on with such nonsense and such joy. The thousands of expressions that his eyebrows can create. The way he will stop everything he is doing just to smile at me or say "thank you mamma!" The random hugs, the way he cradles my face in his hands, the times he tells me I'm pretty.

Then there's Travis.  My sweet, sweet, innocent Travis. With his wide-eyed innocence and crocodile-like tears, midst his heart-melting, engaging, inviting smile that wraps you all up in warmth and sunshine. I am floored by him and who he will be. I love, love... LOVE him. When I pick him up and his body is still all tucked in each other, and he just lets me rock him, I am reminded about what it was like to cuddle with the littleness that is them. He lights up the minute he sees or hears my voice and he laughs, laughs with sincerity and with a fullness that many of my own peers do not even possess. His eyes are full of wonder. His tiny little hands somehow make their way to my face while he lets it linger and takes it all in. It's so fun to watch him as he experiences the world for the first time and I have forgotten ...so quickly forgotten...what that is like. TO be young again. TO see the world like they do. TO trust another the way they are only able to trust in order to survive. It saddens me to think they will one day be exposed to the world that I am exposed to, a world that is cynical and harsh and hurtful and unforgiving. I want to protect them, to show them that it is going to be ok. To tell those who come into contact with them, how special they are and how gracefully they should be treated.

But, that's not always how it works out. We each have lived our lives, and they will too. They will get to experience the beauty among the ashes, just like we did and are still. In a very real sense, I only get them for another 16-18 years before they fly and I need to make sure I get on my way and 'train them up in the way they should go' before they are expected to jump.

I'm hoping for some divine, otherworldly type wisdom because I'll need it.

In any case, I am overwhelmed by their existence. I am just left to wonder how we ever got to be so lucky? ...or rather, how was I ever able to receive such a magnificent display of redemption?