I am a consumer. And I like it.

I am a consumer.  And I like it.

Let me tell you why.

You see, I am a consumer of many things.  One, airline tickets.  We live in a foreign country, and we live in a day and age where we don’t have to take only boat and train.  We can fly.  And, therefore, to get where I am, I fly.

I am a consumer of medicine.  My son, very unfortunately, is one of “those” kids.  One of those kids that needs a bag of medical supplies when I even travel to the grocery store.  Gotta have emergency meds on hand at all times.  Gotta take daily meds without fail.  And gotta.  Just gotta do it.  No essential oils will heal this little man.  So we appreciate the consumption of medicine.

I am a consumer of diapers.  God bless throwaway diapers.  I live in a place that sells them.  I, precious people that use cloth diapers oh how I admire you, but I love taking off a diaper and throwing it away.  I am a happy consumer of diapers.  And I am so thankful I don’t have to wash my son and daughter’s dirty nappies multiple times every day.

I am a consumer of food.  Such yummy divine goodness.  Last night, we fed the kids breakfast for dinner (eggs, bacon, toast, fruit), and then we bathed them and put them down.  Then the hubs and I had a “date” at home.  Steak, salad, and sweet potato marital bliss.  He lit a fire, and we watched a Christmas movie.  It was relaxing, romantic, and a sleeping pill (as I fell asleep before the movie ended).  So, I guess I am also a consumer of wood and media.

I am a consumer of electricity, and coal, and internet (although no one really owns that—so I guess I am a consumer of companies that deliver it).

I am a consumer of coffee and soda.  And dog food (for I have 3 dogs).

I am a consumer.  And I like it.

But you know what I love to consume more than any of the above, including Christmas gifts from the store?

Love.

I love to consume hugs.

And kisses.

And tickles.

And backrubs.

I love to consume smiles.

And cheers.

And giggles.

And tears. Because that means at least I am there.

I love to consume wrinkled papers that come from backpacks with markings from school.

And half-eaten candy canes smothered in drool.

I love to consume wet towels and laundry and dishes galore.

I love to consume it all—and a little bit more.

For with all of these above that I consume, I am reminded each day that I live in a house full of love.

And as we await the holy night,

I know in my home that all is right.

After the bath, all cosy in bed, I cover my three with a happy gait.

And then I slip quietly off…

To sit and eat, sleep and wait.

Before I know it, tomorrow is here.

And I get to consume a little bit more.  It’s truly a dream, this consumption of mine.

But, no matter what it looks like in the heart, it does cost plenty of dimes.

For even though my love is free…

To feed and diaper and take care of my 3 takes a grocery store connected to a clothing store connected to a school supply shop.

And more.

But I gladly consume because I know what it’s for!

Adelyne.

Maxwell.

And Sweet Cheeks, Little Miss Josephine.

For these three, I would gladly buy out the store.

So, you see, I am a consumer.  And I like it.

But OH HEAVENS NO…there will be no number four!

Oh, heaven forbid. Don’t make me speak English!

I really try to be kind and courteous and real and friendly, but I have this problem.  And it’s called my mouth.

It gets me every time.

I am talking all the time.  Day and Night.  Even when I am sleeping.  It gets me there, too, because I even talk in my sleep.

So, this is what happened.  The other day I was at the grocery store in Gniezno.

It’s a rather large grocery store.  It’s a French chain, I believe.  So now I don’t know whether to blame the French grocery chain or the Gniezno store owner on this one…BUT…someone decided at this rather large grocery store to implement a one-line rule where everyone lines up in a single file line to wait for the next available cashier.

The idea isn’t bad—IF—it was a small store with few customers.  But this is a huge and busy grocery store.  It’s like we all line up as if to go through the cattle gate — our grocery carts and kids overflowing down to the chips and liquids aisle.  Imagine trying to get into a busy sporting event with kids and a grocery cart to boot.  It’s utterly ridiculous.

Yet, it’s what we all must do, and I am the one that chose to shop at that store, so I got in line.

One woman—out of the 30+ of us in line decided that as long as her cart was in line, she would keep shopping.

Duh, lady.  Don’t you think we would ALL love to do this?!

Well, her cart was there but the line was moving forward.  So, of course, there was a huge gap in front of her cart and the other customers in front of her.

Who was foolishly the customer/shopper behind this thoughtless lady?

Hand in the air.  ME!

But what happens with this huge gap of air space and the missing cart lady?  Why 3 new customers come along and hop in line.

The lady comes running back to her cart and says she was there.

Um.  No, technically you weren’t.  I am just a patient person and was waiting for you to move forward.

Fool count 1.

Well, after some exchanged words, she is defeated and now stuck behind 3 more people.  But that’s okay, because she goes back to shopping.

Air space yet again.  Because there is this thing called checking out and people do pay for groceries and lines do move forward in the grocery store.  But where is this random shopper lady?

MIA, Missing in Action, yet again.

And again, I foolishly wait for her to find her cart and push it forward.

Fool count 2.

Finally on Fool count 3, when there is a mile of space between her cart and the cutting customers in front of her and the MIA shopper, I take my cart and go in front of her cart.

Boy howdy!  You would think that this woman had a cart radar or something.  No sooner did I put my cart in front of hers did I then see her come screeching at me, yelling, “THAT’S my space!  I was there in line.”

Now, because I am a very mature 38-year-old mother of 3, I of course engaged in her argument, (in Polish), “No, ma’am.  You were not here.  And, this is the 3rd time that you have not been here.  This was free space.”  Yes, my Polish is lacking, so this is basically what I said.  Not so intimidating but enough to let her know it’s not okay.

Ooooh, boy!  She was steaming mad!  And kept yelling at me how she was there.  So, again, I engaged in this civil thing we were having (NOT) called a conversation.

“No, Ma’am, you were not here.  Again, 3 times you have left and gone shopping.  YOU WERE NOT HERE.  This was a free space.”

Yes, I am a Polish force (smile and wink).

And, yet again, she flew off of the handle yelling at me.  Imagine, “Yadda, yadda, yadda!”

There, lady.  You went and did it.  You brought out my English!  And I started in again—this time in my Mother Tongue…

“No!  You were not here!  This is ridiculous.  For 3 times you have left your cart to go shopping…(insert more)…This is not okay!”

After the shock wore off that I was no longer conversing with her in Polish, the entire line of people started to speak up, the lady that was now in front of the both of us turned around and said, “No, you weren’t here (in Polish).  You can’t keep leaving and shopping.”  The person in front of the lady in front of the lady spoke up.  The husband of one of the ladies spoke up.  And this fiery MIA shopper just kept getting louder.

It’s a good thing we were in a French grocery store.  This small riot didn’t seem out of place, eh?!  Haha.

Anyhow, after I started this small riot of vocalities, I realized that this lady was going to continue to throw her fit, so I pulled my cart out of line and let her go back in front of me, which she eagerly took and moved forward.

But, let me just say—she DID NOT leave her spot again.

And the check-out lady was super nice to me, too.  Nice or scared?  I don’t know which.

Oooooops.

So much for showing the love of Jesus at the grocery store that day.

My Nose Ring was NOT a Good Idea…And we got a puppy.

(c. photo Hel Ka Photography)

Have you ever tried to compensate for something missing in your life?  For example, when Richard and I were struggling through infertility, I got a rabbit. This rabbit ruled the roost.  Literally.  I let this rabbit, named Sylvester, run wild.  It had free reign of our home…Of our balcony…Of our couch cushions—which it gnawed to smithereens…Of our electrical cords—which in turn had their revenge on Sylvester-shocking him 4 feet off the ground (Don’t worry—no bunny was hurt in that revenge.  Well, maybe temporarily).  This rabbit was my compensation for no children. When Adelyne arrived in our lives, rainbows abounded, the sun sang to us with its rays, birds chirped melodious tunes.  Life was so complete.  Life was so beautiful.  Life was richer than we had ever imagined. And Richard and I were completely content.  For nearly 5 glorious years of Adelyne’s life, we had more joy in our souls and family than imaginable. We had no idea, however, that life could get grander than Adelyne…That is, until we experienced Sam. When I first thought I was pregnant, neither my husband nor I believed it.  But after I saw two little pink stripes—I knew!  My husband took the rest of the day to let it sink in.  But, by the end of the day, I had a beautiful bouquet of flowers and our daughter dancing around the room at the news of her impending sibling. Let me say, the entire reason we were given our second baby is because I had a daughter that for two entire years of her life PRAYED faithfully for this sibling. Notice I said my daughter prayed.  I did not.  You see, Adelyne was miraculous enough.  I never thought God would grant us a second.  So I became content with my family and did not ask God for more.  And, despite my lack of faith, my daughter said, “I want to pray for a brother!”  And so, from the age of 3, she prayed.  Nightly.  Faithfully.  Beautifully.  Truly, I admired her great faith-even though I had none of my own. And, sure enough, 2 years after she started faithfully praying, God gave us our 2^nd most amazing miracle.  Our Baby Sam. When I was pregnant with Adelyne I was in great shape.  I had no pain.  I had no complications.  The girl hung out in my belly for 42 weeks.  I went bike riding pregnant, rode alligator boats, swam with Manta Rays, was stung by a jelly fish, jumped off a mountain in Austria (jumped off a mountain before I knew I was 6 weeks pregnant) and off a 30-foot platform too (again-before I knew I was 6 weeks pregnant).  And through all of Adelyne’s belly adventures, I had the most gloriously easy pregnancy known to man. When my pain began with Sam, I was astonished.  But the pain was unmistakable.  And then the contractions began.  The bleeding was daily.  Through it all, the baby kept growing.  The doctors became confident that we were making it—although painfully—through the first trimester and would make it to the finish line. So when I woke up that morning—full of energy, without the need to run to the bathroom, and not starving my guts out—I knew.  I knew my baby that my daughter had prayed for years—My baby that I had fought so painfully hard for—My baby was gone. I went to the doctor the next day and received the beautiful picture—and the tragic news.  My baby was curled up with beautiful toes and a hand reaching to the sky.  But there was no heartbeat. I had never before in my life experienced such heart wrenching and hollow pain.  I curled up inside of myself.  I would lie in a dark room for hours at a time.  And I wondered if the pain would ever go away. And I told my husband to let me be.  I needed to grieve.  And he did.  He allowed me my grief. And my daughter—what could I do for her?  Her very being was crushed.  She cried for months after.  We lost our baby in the summer.  But one wintery and snowy day when I was picking her up from school, she started crying as I was putting her in the car. “Why, Momma?  Why doesn’t God give me a brother?” And she cried.  And she cried.  And she cried. I couldn’t even start the car.  The two of us sat in the car, and, despite the snow outside, we sat there and cried.  And we allowed our pain to reveal itself deeply in the car, in the parking lot, of her school. And that’s okay.  Because pain needs to be felt.  Pain needs to be shared.  Pain needs to be relieved. But what could I do? I couldn’t give Adelyne what she wanted most—and so I did something for her. I got her a puppy. You know, to replace her sibling.

Does it really? No.  But that is what many of us do in life. We try to replace our pain with something else. For some, it’s alcohol.  For others, it’s eating.  For many men, it’s pornography.  For too many, it’s seeking love from the wrong places.  Others it’s shopping.  The list goes on. Compensation for pain is very real.  And it’s what I did.  With a puppy. As we headed into our second year of our loss, and our pain lessened, and our lives went on…I did two things to compensate for what my heart truly desired: First, I went car shopping—looking at a sporty little convertible (no—not a good idea for a freezing country like Poland).  We even took it on test drives.  At least I had fun, eh?! And secondly…I got a nose ring. Yep, an honest to goodness nose ring. Now, let me tell you…I am a HUGE fan of nose rings.  They.Are.Awesome…in my opinion.  And, I finally felt like—Hey!  This is something I can do.  This is a way that I can have a bit of control over my life—I can pierce my nose. I know.  I know.  But, again, like I said—we all try to compensate somehow…in some way…for something we have no control over.  And a nose ring was my way. Let me also share—getting your nose pierced in Poland is the MOST EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL EXPERIENCE OF YOUR LIFE! The lady, in the little city next to our little village, said, “Lie back!”  And then she started the SLOW process of the Stone Age’s way of inserting a nose ring—she started screwing it through my nose. My sister-in-law, here in the States, has a nose ring.  I just found out that there is a FAR faster way to get said ring—and it’s called a nose ring gun.  Yep.  Didn’t have that.  Had the hammer and chisel way to go about getting what I could control. Talk about PAINFUL control, eh?!  Yep.  But, in the end, I had what I had control over—a nose ring!  And I loved it.  Or at least I thought I loved it. How, then?  How was your nose ring “snot” a good idea? Well—life is great at throwing us the unexpected. Just as my husband and I were preparing to fly a social worker out from Germany to Poland for a home visit so that we could start the process of adoption, we saw the most glorious two lines!  A positive pregnancy test…It is now eleven years into our marriage. This time, however, my heart smiled—but in smaller measure.  This time, however, we kept it a secret.  This time, however, we approached with great fear.  Not great rejoicing. And…all of our worst nightmares began to reveal themselves.  Pain.  Bleeding.  Cramping. And, so we did what many of us also do in life—we threw the “Hail Mary” pass.  We called up our families and said, “Please!  We’re pregnant and it’s not going well. PLEASE pray for us!” Friends, let me share now…Yes, sometimes touchdowns are scored on the Hail Mary pass—but God would ALWAYS prefer us to come immediately before his throne.  Don’t wait to seek His face.  Come first—and bring along your prayer warriors. Our families…they immediately responded to our pleas.  Prayer became intercessory around the clock for us, around the world, on behalf of our baby. But, despite the prayers—despite the support—despite it all…Fear became present in my very being.  In my core.  In my soul. The pain did not subside.  The cramping did not subside.  The bleeding did not subside. I did what any normal human would do—I cried.  A lot. And that’s when I realized that my nose ring was definitely “snot” a good idea. Here I was fighting for the life of my baby…crying…and snotting.  And so something had to go. I had to let go of the ONE thing that I had control over—my nose ring. I had no control over my body. I had no control over my baby. But I had control over the 1 thing that I got to exercise control—my nose ring. Isn’t it funny how in life we sometimes have to relinquish the one thing we have control over? And that’s how I went from awesomely cool momma with a nose ring (okay, that’s my opinion of myself) to fighting momma with a hole in my nose. I’ve learned a lot in my 37, going on 38, years of my life, and I’d like to share them with you. We have many desires in life.  Sometimes, we are freely granted the desires of our hearts.  Other times, we lose the desires of our hearts.  And, on occasion, we go through hell to get the desires of our hearts. But compensation for desires never fulfills your very heart.  Your very soul.  Your very being.  And, so, Friends, I leave you with this… When you are in pain—cry. When you are afraid—seek help. When you need to be alone—be. When you need a friend—tell them. When you need a hug—receive. But always, always, always go about your life with God. Compensation will never fill the void.  But God will always be there.

***

I have found an article that I think beautifully states how we need to be very aware of how we speak to someone that has lost a child.  Please take the time to read “Why Miscarriage Matters When You are Pro-Life”.  It compares how Pro-Lifers react to abortion and how some of the very same people react to miscarriage.  It gently shares that many have the mentality, “one is a tragedy the other is a blessing”.

Both are losses.  Enjoy the read:

http://thelewisnote.blogspot.com/2014/02/why-miscarriage-matters-if-youre-pro.html?m=1