Put A Ring On It

A couple of weeks ago, I read a blog post on Facebook that upset me in such a way that I just had to respond. It reflected thoughts from a girl who does not have the desire to ever be married. I don't have a problem with that, but it was the reasoning behind it that disturbed me. In describing marriage, she referred to the union as "a trap, a trend, having to be bound to someone". She went on to say that as we are always growing and changing, if we are trapped in a marriage, it may "keep people from moving on and finding what they truly want." 

Now, based on her thoughts, this girl is likely not concerned with the Bible or the Christian perspective, so I can't necessarily blame her for this kind of thinking. Sadly, more and more people are living their lives with this kind of mentality.  I read an article once about an extremely famous power-couple who changed their wedding vows to say "for as long as our love shall last" instead of "for as long as I shall live". So why is it that people are so reluctant to commit themselves to another for a lifetime? The Bible tells us that marriage is a good thing (Prov 18:22). It was created by God as a covenant that represents the covenant between God and His people.

I am incredibly thankful that God gave me my husband of almost 10 years. Is it because we walk around holding hands, skipping through a field of flowers in wedded bliss all the time? Of course not. We have been through some incredibly difficult times. Moments when we seemed to be working against each other, moments where we've hurt one another, moments when we just plain didn't like one another. Yet today, we love and respect each other, and have an intimate, rich bond with one another that would never be the case if we only stayed together for as long as we were happy. You see, happiness is an emotion that changes with the wind. Real joy, true peace and security in the deepest parts of your soul, that is a way of life that only comes with doing the hard work of staying true to the solemn and binding partnership - the covenant - of marriage.  Much the way that God's love for us is unfailing, even when we work against Him, hurt Him, and make the same mistakes over and over again. 

So why is marriage good? Why does a man leave his father and mother and become one with his wife? Why did God know that covenant marriage, the way that He designed it, would be a blessing?  Here are just a few of my answers to those questions:



BALANCE 
Prior to meeting & marrying my husband, I was very stingy with, well, everything. My money, my things, my time. Out of fear, it was very difficult for me to give to others freely. The mindset I had was that if I gave these things away, then how would I take care of myself; my family? I worked hard for this money, my reward should be that I get to keep what I earned and find my security in it. I couldn't possibly give all of my time away either, no, I need "me" time. If I don't get enough "me" time, I won't feel rested enough to work hard for the money that I'm going to cling to...a viscous cycle. And then I met and married my husband. Due to a brief courtship, it wasn't until after we were married that I learned that my husband wanted to give everything we had - our money, our things, our time - away. Not only that, but he really just didn't care about money.  How can you not care about money?!  Through our years together, we have balanced each other out beautifully in this area. I have learned to hold loosely to these things that provide false security. He has learned the importance of saving and planning for the future. There are many other ways that we compliment each other:  My husband is steady and consistent, an anchor to my emotional ups and downs. He is book smart, while I am more street smart. I tend to lead with my heart while he uses his head. I could go on but you get the idea. God knew that we would make each other better! Marriage is a good thing. 



SEX 
We are human and therefore, we all have desires. God created us in such a way that we are united in heart and body. You can't have one without the other. This is one of the many reasons why sex outside of marriage brings chaos, confusion and hurt.  When my son was around 10 months old, we moved into a 3-level town home that - due to the number of stairs - was a mother's worst nightmare.  I couldn't leave the room for 10 seconds for fear that he would attempt to head for the stairs and tumble down them head first.  So we came up with a solution, and we bought one of those ginormous play gates.  We built this huge enclosure in our living room so that he had plenty of freedom to scoot and crawl around with his toys, but we knew that he was trapped in that confined area and therefore; would not hurt himself. See the parallel yet?  Much like a loving parent that creates boundaries for their children to keep them safe from harm, God gave us marriage; a place that protects us from illicit sexual behavior and yet allows us to enjoy the physical aspect of love. Within the confined boundary of marriage, there is real freedom to enjoy our sexual desires with our spouse.  Yes, marriage is a GOOD thing.

 
SAFETY 
When a man and a woman enter into a covenant of marriage, and commit their marriage to the Lord, (divorce not being an option), there is safety. You know, dating always kind of felt like auditioning to me. I hated it! Was I pretty enough? Funny enough? Did I talk too much or not enough? Did I have something stuck in my teeth? I've always imagined that living with someone without being married to them would feel the same way:  a 24/7 audition. I could be eliminated from the competition at any time if I made the wrong move. But with my husband, I know that I can be myself - flaws and all - and I will still have his unconditional love. If his love for me stopped when I gain weight, or when I have a bad day and take it out on him, or when I act really selfish, or when I get sick and vomit in front of him, we would have been divorced a thousand times over by now. But his love is not dependent upon my behavior, because his love is a covenant that does not change with the tides. This is about as close a parallel as you can get here on earth to Jesus' love for us. Oh yes, marriage is a good thing. 

These are just my top 3 of the many reasons why marriage is a good thing.  So you can see why this girl's blog post struck me and made me feel truly sad for her.  Living your life with a mission of self-gratitude will eventually catch up with you.  It may feel like happiness in the moment, but the end result is rarely desirable.  If I lived for self-gratification, I would weigh 500 lbs, I'd be broke, and I'd likely be alone!

My final thoughts...when my Grandpa passed away a couple of years ago, I had the honor of being at his bedside. In fact, three generations of our extended family surrounded him on every side, each of us with a hand on him as he breathed his last and went ahead of us to be with the Lord. 

Moments earlier, my Grandma had kissed him on the forehead and encouraged him, telling him that it was ok for him to go. Then she grabbed hold of his hand and held on tight as he left this earth in perfect peace. Every time I think back to those final moments with him, I think -- now that's how I want to go one day. My Grandparents fought the good fight, they stayed together, serving Jesus side by side for over 60 years. They didn't give up on each other when things got tough. It wasn't an option for them. And they reaped the rewards of that commitment in their final years together. They vacationed together, went on long walks together, they were bound together in the same kind of love that binds us to Christ. I wonder what my Grandpa's death would have looked like if he had lived to satisfy his every desire. Would anyone even be there with him at all?

So I will exclaim it loudly, that I am happily trapped in a covenant marriage with my husband!! I am so grateful to be bound to him; stuck with no way out! Most of all, I am profoundly aware that marriage is a gift from God, because only my Heavenly Father knows what will make me truly happy. 

I'm so glad that my hubby put a ring on it!

"I Hate Easter"

It was one year ago on Easter weekend that my Grandpa Bailey passed away and went on to be with Jesus. His battle with cancer started abruptly and took him quickly, leaving us all with a strange feeling of quietness and disbelief.  His passing was one of the most spiritual experiences I have ever had on this earth.

These past twelve months, I have found myself randomly hitting the different stages of grief, in no particular order.  I tend to hang out in the Denial zone where I find myself pretending that he is still here, and nothing has changed...that is, until my 6 year old son will - out of the blue - say things like "Mommy, I feel Grandpa Bailey in my heart."  And then a wave of memories washes over me and I once again find myself in disbelief, overcome with sadness and joy all at the same time.

Several weeks ago I was strolling through Walmart, minding my own business, when I rounded the corner and came face-to-face with a large Easter display full of easter eggs.  To my surprise, my instant thought was "I HATE EASTER!".  I know!  I was as appalled as you are!  Where did THAT come from?  Looking around to see if anyone actually heard that awful thought that seemed very loud in my own head, I quickly headed to the checkout before someone could call the looney bin and tell them one of their patients got loose.

Later that evening, my husband and I were heading home from a date.  I was in a somber mood and I began to think about those horrible easter eggs I had seen and those feelings of anger rose up in me again and I began to cry.  My husband (God bless him for putting up with me) looked over at me and said sweetly, "Honey, what's wrong?"  I looked at him and with no shame, said (out loud this time) "I hate Easter!" and out came the ugly cry.  His face went from shock to a question mark to realization all in about 30 seconds.  He tried to encourage me by reminding me that the timing of Grandpa's death was really beautiful and symbolic, and that I should focus on the joyous reunion we will have with him someday when eternity is at our doorstep.  I snapped back at him, "I will focus on the beauty and the joy and all that crap tomorrow, but for tonight - just let me hate Easter!"   (I know, he is so lucky to have me)

The truth is, I don't hate Easter.  I succumbed to my human emotions and let them get the best of me for a time.  Yes, the timing of my Grandpa's death has forever changed the Easter season for me.  But there is beauty at the core of my earthly sadness.  Easter represents what Christ did for us on the cross.  The gift that has given all of us, His children, the Promise that we will see our loved ones again.  That "goodbye" here on earth is not goodbye forever!  Because of Jesus' sacrifice, we will one day experience an eternal joy that has no end!  The fact that my Grandpa was swept away to his earthly home in the early morning hours on the day that we celebrate the rising of our Lord and Savior - what a beautiful way for God to remind me that our reward awaits us in Heaven.  This world is not our home.  My Grandpa is happily working in his heavenly garden, looking forward to the day that we all join him for all of eternity.

I love Easter.

Bittersweet November

November, 2001: 

Sleep deprived.  Leftovers from Boston Market.  Walgreens in my pajamas.  A loneliness that haunted and terrified and took me over. 

Sirens.  Blue and red lights.  The kind eyes of a stranger.  The hustle and bustle of the ER.  Arguing with a nurse.  IV's and monitors and blood pressure cuffs and all kinds of beeping.


Fast forward 10 years to November, 2011:

5:50am alarm, snooze button.  Feeling my husband wrap his arms around me for morning snuggles.  Tripping over my children's toys left out in the kitchen.  The smell of my sweet 2 year old baby girl's breath.  My precious 5 year old thanking me for the new "big boy" toothpaste I bought for him.  The rush of getting the boys ready and out the door for the day.

The quiet that falls over the house after the boys leave. 

Perspective.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This November marks ten years. 
Ten years ago, I was desperately trying to fill my soul with something only God could fill.
Ten years ago, I could not see any light in the darkness.
Ten years ago, I could not see past myself.
And I tried to take my own life.  It was by the grace of God that I did not succeed. 


I don't think it's a coincidence that our wedding anniversary falls in November.  I can hardly stand to think that I could have missed out on this:

And this:

And especially these guys:

 
And this:

Ok, so maybe not so much on that last one...

But believe me, as long as you're still breathing, there is ALWAYS hope.  You never know what tomorrow may bring if you stop tomorrow from happening. 

2 Corinthians 4: 16-17:  ^"This is the reason we do not give up. Our human body is wearing out. But our spirits are getting stronger every day.  The little troubles we suffer now for a short time are making us ready for the great things God is going to give us forever."     

How To Give a Cat a Bath

Do you ever feel like getting your kids to bed is about as frustrating as trying to give a cat a bath?  Not that I've ever attempted such a thing...but my goodness, why does bedtime have to be so frustrating around here?  It's like switching the light off is cue for them to turn in to wild animals! 

8:20 - Brax and Sadie have an all-out contest to see who can yell and sing the loudest.

8:30 - Sadie's pack n play turns into a trampoline (yes, she's still in a pack n play because that child will NOT stay in her toddler bed for anything!)  Don't judge unless you've had a Sadie Blue!!!

8:40 - Brax gets up for the 2nd time in 20 minutes to go potty. 

8:50 - Sadie's pack n play turns into a tight rope (don't ask).

9:00 - Brax gets up for the 4th time in 30 minutes to go potty and tell us a really interesting story about Thomas the Train that really could not wait until morning time.

9:10 - In an attempt to get closer to one another, Brax throws one end of his blanket to Sadie.  She grabs it and he pulls on the blanket and slides her and her pack n play across the room until they are side by side.  (True story.  Smart kids.)

9:20 - Mommy and Daddy flip their lids.

I hate it when sweet bedtime stories, songs, prayers,
Goodnights and I Love You's turn in to

"SO HELP ME IF YOU GET OUTTA THAT BED ONE MORE TIME...

(insert ridiculous and completely unfulfillable threat here)!!!" 

Total bedtime failure.  

Some days I just can't wait for them to grow out of some of these difficult phases! 

And then there are moments that I wish I could pause and freeze time for awhile...

   

Making Memories

We recently spent a weekend in Branson celebrating my parents' 40th wedding anniversary.  I learned several things on this trip.  One - Silver Dollar City with two toddlers is exhausting.  Two - Paddle boats are from the devil.  Three - It is unbelievably important to remain within 30 feet of a bathroom at all times when you no longer have a gallbladder.  And Four - When sending a text with highly secretive content (such as one's weight), it is super important to be absolutely certain that you do not accidentally send it to the wrong person (for instance, one's brother-in-law).  Yes...that happened. 

Our last evening of our trip, I got the bright idea that it might be fun to take the kids out on a paddle boat on the lake.  Yeah, we're gonna file that under "What Were We Thinking". As we approached the docking area, we quickly realized that I could not help Matt paddle in the front because that would mean leaving the 2 yr old unassisted -- Not wise seeing as she continuously tried to lean over the side of the boat - and by the way, did you know there are no seatbelts or restraints of any kind in those things?! I climbed in to teeny tiny back seat with Sadie and then Matt got in back-to-back with me to face front and paddle. If you haven't pictured this yet, that means all of the adult weight was distributed on the left side of the boat. As we almost tipped the boat over and died, Matt sacrificed himself and jumped overboard expecting to land in 4 feet of water instead of about 9. Once we finally got all 4 of us in the boat with the weight mostly evenly distributed Matt paddled furiously against the wind attempting to get us out away from the shore line. We made it out about oh, 20 feet, before he would stop to take a break for 30 seconds and the wind would blow us back to the shore. Repeat this process about 4 times while the other boaters (the boaters that had enough sense to rent a boat with a motor and a little standing room) watched us and didn't try all that hard to muffle their laughs. Eventually Sadie broke into full meltdown mode because I wouldn't let go of her life jacket and allow her to topple head first in to the lake, Brax started crying because his feet couldn't reach the peddles and he wanted to help paddle, I ripped my brand new sundress because I was trying to fold myself into a seat made to fit a 3 year old (why did I wear a sundress to go out on a paddle boat??), Matt was dripping with sweat and was about to pass out from his burning thighs, and we were beginning to contemplate divorce. It was around this time that we allowed the wind to bring us back to shore and we gracelessly climbed out of the darn thing with 2 screaming children and an audience. And we paid $15 for this. I think next time I'll just stay home and pull my toenails out one by one.

Honestly though, it was a fun and memorable trip and our little family of four fell in love with each other all over again.  I love making memories with my family!  I know that I'm going to blink and our little blessings will be grown and out of the house and then Matt is going to have to buy me a puppy.  

And Happy Anniversary, Mom & Dad!

 

The Great McDonald's Debate

This morning started with great expectations!  Didn't quite go as planned but trying to stay positive.  (Positive that the day seems to be going downhill...)  Kidding, of course, but goodness - sometimes parenting is tough.  Can I get an Amen?!

Braxton asked if we could go to the park today, and since we haven't been in awhile and I've been unable to do much with them over the past week due to having gallbladder surgery, I decided it was time for a trip to the park.  (By the way, does anyone else find that certain parts of your body are becoming more and more unneccessary with age or is it just me??  First the tonsils, now the gallbladder.  What's next?  Nevermind - don't answer that.)    Before we left the house, I got down on one knee and looked my boy straight in his sparkling blue eyes and said "There will be NO arguing whatsoever when it's time to leave the park...do we have a deal?"  He agreed, "Deal!" and we shook on it. 

We made the short drive to the park and I was proud of myself that I got out of the house and was doing something fun with them just 1 week after surgery.  I was even plotting to take them to McDonald's afterwards for a special lunch.  We stayed long enough for Brax to break the new world record for swing-heighth and for Sadie to try and eat sand 3.2 times and for all of us to have red, sweaty faces, when I announced (after several time-countdown warnings) that it was time for us to leave the park.  And what is that I hear?  No, surely that is not my beloved son going back on his word and arguing...surely not!  We shook on it!  Do handshakes mean nothing anymore??!  I did my best to not respond in anger and to continue walking towards the van when I saw my son heading toward the fence to try to go under it instead of walking around it.  I told him not to go under it.  He did anyway.  He fell and got hurt and there were tears.  Still, I kept my cool.  Atleast until the van doors were securely shut and we were safely inside a mostly soundproof vehicle.  "I cannot believe you argued with me after the talk we had before we left the house!  When will you learn not to argue and to be thankful when someone does something nice for you?!  Do you know that some kids don't ever get to go to the park??!"  (Ok, yeah that last one was a little weak, but it seemed like a good thing to say at the time)  His reply:  "I'm sorry, mommy.  Can we go to McDonald's now?"  Oooooh someone hold me back...  At that point I was glad I was driving and forced to remain calm and keep both hands on the wheel.  "Jesus, give me strength!"  After counting to ten, I calmly informed my firstborn that we were going to drive through McDonalds, but that only Sadie and I were getting our lunch there.  That we would go home and I would fix his lunch at home.  More tears.  "But mommy, I didn't understand what arguing meant!"  ---Stay strong, Kali, stay strong---  "Mommy, I didn't mean to make those bad choices!"  ---you can do this, Kali, don't give in!---  It got harder and harder the closer we got to those golden arches.  Pulling up to that drive thru was pure torture as the voice inside the sign said "Will that happy meal be for a boy or for a girl?"  Why did I feel like I was somehow being unfair??!  His tears were piercing straight through to my heart and I so badly wanted to say "ok, we'll get you a happy meal too, but don't do it again, ok?"  But would he really learn the lesson that way?

I get it now, that feeling my own parents used to express to me when I was being punished.  The classic "this hurts me way more than it hurts you" line?  Turns out it's true.  Huh.  And yet if we don't follow through with what we say, our children will learn that they cannot trust us.  The truth is, I want to give my kids everything that they need AND everything that they want.  But is it best for them?  Or is it better for them to learn at an early age that our behavior and the way that we choose to treat others makes a big difference in the blessings we receive in this life.  (I know some adults who never learned that lesson!)  So we must stay strong in the trenches, and pray that the end result will be children that grow up to serve God, be humble, be respectful, work hard, and love others with all of their hearts.  So basically, perfection.  Or as close to it as possible.  That's not too much to expect, right?? 

So we drove through McDonald's and came home with only one happy meal.  Brax had an at-home lunch and he survived it, and so did I.  One battle down.  Several thousand more to go.

Birth Story #1

The end of September of 2006 had come and I completed my final days of working at the bank in wealth management. My maternity leave (which turned out to be a permanent leave) began and I had two solid weeks at home before our lives would be changed forever. I felt at least 53 months pregnant and was an emotional basket case. I stocked up on groceries and toiletries (we had enough toilet paper to last us 6 months), washed and hung all of the baby clothes, cleaned, scrubbed, and bleached every square inch of the house...and that was just day 1 of my leave. I quickly found myself bored out of my mind, so I began obsessively watching A Baby Story on TLC and freaking myself out with horrible labor & delivery scenarios. If I knew then what I know now, I would've spent that time SLEEPING!

The month of October began to slowly tick by. I inched closer and closer to my due date but felt no sign of baby Braxton making his grand entrance. Wednesday evening, October 11th, we went to our Life Group and had dinner with friends. When we got home, I began scrubbing a spot on our carpet in the bedroom, which turned in to scrubbing spots on the carpet throughout the entire house. (I probably would've began cleaning our neighbor's homes if they would've let me).  An hour and a half later, it was past midnight and I finally climbed (or waddled) into bed. 30 minutes later, I was up again with what might be contractions (I wasn't sure) and I appeared to be leaking some fluid of some sort (sorry for the gruesomeness!). I woke Matt up and called the doctor. Doc told us to wait a bit and time the contractions. As we sat there in our bed, our hearts pumping with excitement that maybe this was it, I suddenly became incredibly hungry. So Matt dutifully went to the kitchen and a few minutes later, came back with a pot full of steaming macaroni and cheese. No bowl necessary...the man brought me the entire pot with a spoon; my luxurious, final meal before I became a mom.

A couple of hours later, it became evident that this was the day, and we loaded up and made our way to Vanderbilt Hospital. The morning was filled with a lot of poking and prodding, pitocin and epidurals, and waiting. It was midday on Thursday, October 12th and the doctor had told us with much certainty that it would be Friday before I gave birth. I prayed that this would not be true because I did not want to be in labor on Friday the 13th!  Much of the day had been quite boring.  They had given me an epidural early on, so I wasn't feeling much, except for the blood pressure cuff continuously squeezing the blood out of my arm every 30 seconds.  Late in the afternoon that same day, the nurse checked me and with a slightly alarmed look on her face said "It's time".  I watched the flurry of activity and began hyperventilating as our hospital room suddenly came alive with movement and lights.  I looked at Matt for encouragement and then yelled at him seconds later for touching my leg (it was numb from the epidural and his touch felt like pins and needles).  Poor guy. 

Now, for those of you who had horrible labor and delivery experiences, you might want to stop reading here.  It was time to push (even though the doctor wasn't in the room yet - pretty sure he was out watching an old Friends episode or something).  Matt set up the video camera at a PG13 angle and hit play on the CD player (a worship CD we made for the occasion).  A peace came over the room and I began to push.  Precisely 21 minutes later on that Thursday in October, Braxton Riley Skar was born - fist first!  The doctor barely made it into the room in time to catch him!  The nurses placed him on my chest, goop and all, and this screaming little baby boy and I looked at each other for the first time.  By the look on his face, he was thinking "What are you gonna do with me??" and at the same time I was thinking "What do I do with you now??" 

We called our families to tell them the news.  I spoke to my Grandmother and told her "He looks just like Matt!" to which she replied, "Awww, well that's ok." 

The first night in the hospital was glorious.  I looooved getting up with him in the night, learning how to change his diaper, rocking him and feeding him.  He slept a lot and I drifted in and out between sleeping and staring at our precious new life born from our love.  I bragged to everyone about what a good sleeper he was, and how he really didn't cry much at all!  Such a low-maintenance baby!  Then night #2 happened.  If we hadn't been on the 4th floor I would've jumped out the window.  Why won't he go to sleep?  Why is he still crying??  Does he not know that I need a minimum of 8 hours of sleep in order to function properly???  How is Matt sleeping through this????  Little did I know that I would be asking these same questions for the next 4 years...