Walking to the Finish Line

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. 1 Corinthians 9: 24

I have never been a runner…well…except for when I was a little girl in elementary school. Back then, I loved running! There was something about the wind on my face that I couldn’t get enough of. I always tried as hard as I could to win races. However, I was never fast enough to break that ribbon at the finish line.

As an adult, I tried jogging, but I failed. My knees are way too weak for that and I am so out of shape, that after half a lap, I feel as if I’m about to have a heart attack. My thyroid issues have complicated things too, so I have resigned myself to never being able to actually run.

Hence my anxiety every time I read this passage.

I know, I know it doesn’t mean literally “running,” that it is a metaphor (a literary device that implies a direct comparison…I teach literature…I understand) BUT, it stresses me out, nonetheless.

I want to receive the prize!

How can I get it if I don’t run?

I guess I could walk, right? I do enjoy walking a lot! It has become my favorite activity. I had to walk to my son Grant’s school the other day in the middle of a heat wave to pick him up because my car was in the garage and I had forgotten he had to stay for after-school tutoring. The funny thing was that I had to take my 8-year-old, Dylan with me on the “walk.” He did not appreciate it, at all!

The walk was exhausting for me physically, but on top of that, it was mentally exhausting also because I had to cheer up Dylan all the way. He is not much for pushing himself. His reaction when I told him we had to walk to Grant’s school was bursting out in sobs. So as soon as we got on the road, I had to make it seem doable every step of the way. I kept saying things like: “look, once we get to that tree it’ll mean we are half way there.” “Hey, by the time we hit the stop sing, it’ll be only one straight road.” “See that fountain, once we walk by it, we’ll be almost there.”

I have to say that Dylan was a trooper. He only fell once, he didn’t cry for long and he only told me he didn’t love me anymore a couple of times. We were late to pick Grant up, so I had to use the last breath left in my lungs to apologize to the teacher who was waiting with him. Then, we had to turn around and walk back home. But we made it. And I tell you what; there was nothing sweeter to Dylan and I than the sight of our house at the end of the road.

By the time we opened the door back home, Dylan and I had walked for one whole hour. I couldn’t believe it. It only takes like 4 minutes to get there driving! (Dylan pointed that out the next day when we drove by…he said, “WOW, Grant’s school is so close when we are in the car and it took us so long walking!)

At any rate, my body was so tired that day, but the strangest thing was that my spirit felt great! Finishing that walk was a great accomplishment, especially because of the added bonus of having to encourage Dylan along. But I focused on the task ahead, and pressed on toward the goal. (Philippians 3: 13-14) And at the end, I felt like a winner!



I guess I don’t have to be a runner, after all. As long as I keep my eyes on Him who gives me strength, I can do all things, even speed-walking in the heat, dragging…I mean, in the great company of my younger son. That’s one for the books, I tell you. And for that, I am curiously thankful.

Praying Like a Child

Dylan, my eight year old son (soon to be nine, mind you) is what some would consider (meaning, me, mainly) very needy. His favorite word in the world is Mamma. In a given hour, he may say it around 60 to 100 times. I’m exaggerating, of course, but that’s what it seems like. And the funny thing is that he is not ashamed of his neediness. Regardless of how much his older brother makes fun of him, Dylan continues to express his desire to be close to me and his need to stay connected by communicating every single thought that comes to his mind, every minute of the day. He is not shy about requesting my attention. He demands it at all times. It’s like he carries my name at the tip of his tongue all day long! And I have to admit that sometimes (often times) I get annoyed by it.

I’ve been thinking about all these quite a bit lately as I am reading the book A Praying Life by Paul E. Miller. So far, what I’ve taken away in the few chapters I’ve read is that when we pray, we are to:

-Come as we are. Be yourself. Stop thinking you have to assume some sort of posture when you pray. That will only make your prayer life feel artificial and rehearsed. Don’t feel like you have to get it together and fix yourself. You are not going to a ball.

-Come messy. Stop thinking you have to clean up your house before letting the Lord in. Stop shoving things under the bed. Stop hiding the clutter in the closet. After all, we’ll never be able to make ourselves spic and span, anyway. That is exactly why He came…because of our inability to wipe away our own sins. If we could stop being messy on our own, we would not have needed Him to die on the cross.

-Don’t be ashamed of your neediness. He is never going to get tired of us telling Him about the hurts of our hearts. He is not going to be annoyed by our constant nagging and whining. He is never going to yell at us for our overflowing stream of tears. We will never shock Him with our sin. He knows it already. He knows it all.

-Come often. Unlike some earthly parents, Our Heavenly Father never tires of our company. He made us for the purpose of being in community with Him. He loves us. He draws us to Him with His irresistible calling. He is the air we breathe. Therefore, we must come to Him at all times…without ceasing.

-Come like a child. Run to His arms like a little child. Stay near. Feel the safety of His presence. Enjoy the comfort of His shade. Drink in the fountain of His love. Dive in the river of His peace.



I have to remember all these things every time I get frustrated with Dylan’s interruptions throughout the day. I need to remember that there is a lesson for me in his behavior. Even if it is the 60th time in a half an hour that he demands my attention, rather than becoming harsh with Dylan, I need to remember that I must learn from his insistence. I need to remember that, unlike me, Our Heavenly Father wants me to come to Him as I am, messy, needy, craving His attention. He would never turn me away with a harsh word of exasperation. I should, every time Dylan calls me, think of how much more like him I need to become and start carrying my Father’s name at the tip of my tongue all day long.

Wanted

For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will. Ephesians 1: 4-5

A couple of days ago Dylan had a particularly bad day behaviorally-wise (unwise-rather). So I took him for a late afternoon walk. After being walking for about 40 minutes or so, he asked me, “Mama, do you wish you’d had me?” I pondered the question for an instant, and asked him to please repeat it. “Do you wish you’d had me?” he repeated. Do you mean if I’m glad I have you? I rephrased it to see if I could understand his real point. “Yes,” he answered with bright eyes, indicating that he was happy I had “got” what he had meant.

Dylan often seeks reaffirmation that he is loved and that he is wanted. As he is becoming more aware of his reality as an adopted child, he wants to make sure that such reality doesn’t mean he is a lesser type of son. I understood this to be one of those instances so I replied: “Of course I am happy you are mine!” “I picked you, you know?” “Out of many kids we could have adopted, we picked you because we loved you the first time we saw your picture and heard about you.” His face lit up since I believe this was the first time he had heard the fact that he had been chosen.

“Just like God does...” I continued, “He adopts us to be His children.” “Like Jesus, right?” Dylan commented. “Yes, you are right, Jesus was adopted by Joseph when he was here on earth, but God also adopts each of us whom He picks to be His children.” “Wow, God has a very big family!” Dylan replied. “Yes, He does! And we are all going to be together in Heaven one day, enjoying all our brothers and sisters,” I added. “And we’ll get to see God every time we want,” Dylan pointed out as he was already starting to walk away, distracted by some rocks alongside the path.

I looked at my little boy and I praised God for this chance to have him with me. The privilege of experiencing the miracle of adoption in a most personal level has allowed me the opportunity to see first-hand the truth of the unconditional love God lavishes on us. It has nothing to do with us or with what we do or how we behave…it has to do with Him and His sovereign will. It is a gift that we get to be part of His family and bask in His love. And the best thing is, nothing can separate us from this Divine kind of love…



For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8: 38-39

Hugs

His left arm is under my head and his right arm embraces me. Song of Solomon 8: 3



“Mama, hug,” I hear my now almost 7-year old son Dylan say to me as I walk away after having yelled at him for misbehaving. I turn and see him standing with arms stretched out wide and a sad face. Of course I go back to him and hug him tightly feeling rotten inside for having spoken harshly to him earlier. The healing power of hugs, however, makes us both feel better.

I don’t know what it is, but a hug can really make a difference. There are several studies out there that assure us that hugs can actually keep the doctor away. They release some chemicals in our bodies that are responsible not just for improved mood and reduced stress, but for actual physiological reactions like changes in blood pressure and improved heart health! Crazy, huh? A study at the University of North Carolina found that levels of cortisol, the hormone produced when we’re under stress, were significantly lowered (particularly in women) when subjects hugged their partners for at least twenty seconds. (Via http://www.divinecaroline.com/22188/74188-healing-power-hugs#ixzz24TRUghvU) That’s enough for me to want to give my husband more than one 20-second-long hug a day! Well, there are other reasons for me to want to do that too…but this is an added bonus! : )

At any rate, I wasn’t really aware of the power of hugs; but my son Dylan has proven to me that it is, indeed, a healing tool that the Lord provides to us in the midst of this world of hurt and pain. I don’t really need to read any studies, for now I have living proof that hugs do the trick. Throughout the day, I hear my little boy’s tender voice saying, “Mama, hug” regardless of whatever. Sometimes, he doesn’t even say anything, but spontaneously just comes to me with outstretched arms and gives me a blessed hug. And at that moment, I feel the weight of the world lift up from over my shoulders as my soul smiles and rejoice.

Praise the Lord for Dylan, who has understood the power of the embrace. As he grows and walks through life craving that loving touch, he is touching my heart and teaching me about the love that I am supposed to feel and display in my own walk, perhaps to help lighten and brighten a little this valley of tears and sorrow.

Ten Years Old

To commemorate my son Dylan´s tenth birthday, I would like to compile a selection of Dylan-inspired posts I've been writing through the years.  It is not only his tenth birthday, but it is his tenth birthday celebrated here with us as part of our family.

Dylan came to be our son from Guatemala on a beautiful September 15th in 2006, which meant that he was able to spend his very first birthday with us the following October 22nd.

Needless to say, it has been a wild ride.  At times it's been smooth and seamless.  Often, though, it's been rocky, windy and totally unexpected.  Above all, however, it has been a journey marked by the loving guidance of the Holy Spirit and by the big bright smile of a little boy.

Most of the stories are sprinkled with laughter and innocence.  Dylan has a way to turn the ordinary into something extraordinary.  But the anecdotes are also an illustration of the path we have followed to discover God's will for us as an adopted family.  And it is a very special path since Dylan has a very unconventional way of learning...therefore, his journey makes ours the more unique.

Dylan’s journey to learning reminds me of my own walk with the Lord.  There is no way I can do it alone.  I need the constant guidance and wisdom of teachers, pastors, matured brothers and sisters in Christ and above all, the Holy Spirit in order to continue to grow in my faith.  It is a never-ending road, and I am thankful for how Our Great God helps me along the way.  At times, however, like Dylan, The Holy Spirit allows me moments of discovery derived straight from discernment given directly to me by Him.  They usually happen when I am paying attention, concentrated on seeking Him and listening to His whispering, because if I’m distracted I usually miss the insight and lose the lesson.  

I hope my accounts of my years with Dylan speak to you in any way.  Most of all, I pray you can explore your own story as you see the hand of the Most High holding you all along your own way.

Figuring Things Out

We often get a kick out of Dylan’s ways to express his thoughts because he always has a … say … different way of articulating what’s in his mind. He processes things differently from most people and sometimes this difference may be misconstrued as slowness. We know that he understands things, but the road he follows to achieve such understanding is not always a straight one. For the most part, Dylan’s path to learning and figuring things out is often filled with detours, stops and turns. Generally, conclusions and learning come after much discussion, explanation, manipulation, repetition and exploration usually under the guidance of someone else. Here and there, however, he surprises us with out-of-the-blue, self-derived wit and insight…and such moments are always truly delightful.

Such was the case a few days ago. The four of us were driving back home, I think it was from church…I can’t remember. All I know is that it was the weekend and the weather was really nice. As it happens, there is a restaurant in our town which is rather popular with bikers. Fair weather weekends mean rows of glamorous bikes parked along our little main street and long lines of people on the sidewalk waiting to get in this establishment. Anyway, a few miles out, sitting at a stop light before taking the last turn to head into town, a motorcycle was standing at the light next to us. Dylan was on the back sit, and as a typical 9 ½ year-old-boy would, he stopped what he was doing and began admiring the shiny and loud bike. A young couple was riding on it. The young man was at the wheel and a beautiful young woman was behind him, hanging on to the rider, enjoying the sunshine, the breeze and the ride.

As we expected, they headed our way too. So once the light turned, with a loud roar, the biker moved on ahead of us, girl’s reddish hair waiving in the wind. At that moment, Dylan broke the silence to say: “I know why guys like motorcycles…” Dan and I mumbled a distant uhumm at the same time, as Dylan proceeded to say: “guys like it because on a motorcycle they can say to a girl, ‘hey, you want a ride?’ and then the girl gets on the bike and then she has to touch his belly.”

After a split second, Dan and I looked at each other and burst out laughing in delight. I mean, really? I didn’t know what to say. I just kept laughing aloud. Dan asked him, “so you think guys like that, huh?” Dylan replied with a firm, “yeah.” Then Dan said to me, “he is figuring things out, isn’t he?” Yes, he is, I thought…He is figuring things out on his own. Soon he won’t be a little boy any more. Before I know it, he’ll be all grown up, and I’ll be left behind wondering where the years went and how this stage in my journey through motherhood so quickly disappeared.

This Mother’s Day morning I meditate on being a Mother…a role that for years I doubted I would play…I think of all that it entitles. I too am figuring things out. I am figuring out that even though it is true that being a Mother comes with lots of pain, heartache, headache, backache, stomachache and many other aches…it also provides moments of incomparable, unmeasurable, pure joy to the soul.

I praise the Lord for Dylan and Grant, my two boys, certainly each one of a kind.



Happy Mother’s Day to all…

Deodorant

Have you ever met someone who gets excited and overjoyed about…B.O.? (yeah…b. o. – well, it is April Fool’s after all, right? A day for pranks and fun, and while this is not a joke…it is kind of fun!)

At any rate…

As a typical baby of the family, my nine and a half year-old son Dylan can’t wait to grow up and show us he is more than just our little pet. For a few years now, he has been fascinated by the idea of deodorant. Even though he does not have a clue why, he does understand that putting deodorant on for the first time means some kind of mysterious rite of passage into some sort of more adult state…and he wants in!

He gets this idea, I think, from the fact that every time he asks us if he can put some deodorant on, we say a resounding NO! accompanied by a: “you are too young for that, besides, your armpits don’t stink!” Then, I usually would go to him, raise his little arm up, bury my nose into his armpit, take a good whiff, and say: “nothing but baby smell”.

Well, last Saturday morning, we were urging Dylan to stop being so lazy and get in the shower, but as usual, he was insisting on doing other things, stating that he didn’t need to take a shower. I told him that he stunk. He said he didn’t stink, and the thing went back and forth for a few seconds until I walked to him, raised his little arm, buried my nose in his armpit, took a big whiff…and to my surprise… “O my gosh! Dylan, you stink!” I fell on the floor gagging (over-dramatically, of course!) Then I saw him reaching out with his nose under his own armpit to suddenly hear him shout: “I STINK!” as he raised both arms in joy.

“I need deodorant!” He announced. “Grant, I need deodorant!” “My armpits smell!”

Yeah…

Dan and I didn’t really know what to do, so we just laughed (I mean, really, what else can you do in this situation?)

The rest of the weekend, Dylan kept on “reminding me” to go buy him deodorant at my earliest convenience. I finally convinced him that he could wait until Monday. So sure enough, as soon as he walked into the house after school on Monday, first thing he asked: “did you buy me my deodorant?” “Yes.” “Where is it?” “Over there.” “Hey, it’s the same Grant uses.” “Yes.” “What does ‘Speed Stick’ mean?” “I don’t know…it’s just the name of it” “I’m going to tell my friends!” “Uhumm” “Can I bring it to school tomorrow to show them?” “No.” “Can I show Grant?” “Okay.” “Can I put some on right now?” “Yes.” “How do you open it?” “Sigh…”

I just couldn’t stand it. The whole thing was surreal, but incredibly cute. It was also bittersweet. My little baby is growing up…

I know the coming years will bring many changes for my boys as they enter adolescence. But there is still time to enjoy their innocence for a little longer. So I better savor all the sweetness I can squeeze out of them right now, while I’m still able. One thing has definitively changed for good, though…I won’t be burying my nose into anybody’s armpits in this house any more.

p.s.: he’ll hate me if he ever finds out I wrote this post…