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FIVE: Half a Decade

Today, my firstborn child is FIVE.

I can’t believe it.

He goes to school.
He can write his name.
He can read most 3-4 letter words.
He can do math (as long as the numbers fit within his fingers).
He can do cartwheels.
He can shoot a gun (airsoft).
He he can work an iPhone better than most adults.

Chance is brilliant.

I get teary just thinking about him being five. I have no idea how I’m gonna handle him getting older and going to college. One step at a time, I guess. Here’s a photo of him 3 days old. They didn’t allow him out of NICU till then, so here he is taking his hearing test at 3 days of age.

Dearest Chance…

I’m so thankful God put you in our family. We waited three years for you when doctors told you would never come. When God gave you to us, He told us to take very good care of you because you are His. When we first found out you were in my belly… I prayed 1 Samuel 1:27 & 28. I even painted it onto your wall in your nursery to remind myself:

“I prayed for this child, and the LORD has granted me what I asked of him.  So now I give him to the LORD. For his whole life he will be given over to the LORD.”

I still pray this regularly for you and Paxton. And as I watch you  grow up to be a man, like your Daddy, I am so proud of you and humbled that I get the privilege of experiencing you first hand.

You are an amazing son. You have a warrior spirit, ready to battle evil to protect all that is good… but your spirit is gentle and sensitive to your surroundings. I love how aware of life you are. I love every bit of you. Thank you for being such a good son to a Mommy who is trying her hardest.

I’m proud to be called your Mommy. I love all the conversations we have over just about everything. I hope that never ever stops. I will continue working to prove myself trustworthy with your thoughts and heart. I can’t wait to see what kind of man you will become when you’re grown… but till then… please take your time growing up. You crawling into my lap, snuggling me and whispering “I love you more than anything” are one of my favorite things.

My sweet Chance, I love you always and forever… no matter what. Thank you for the most amazing first five years.

Love,

Mommy

Motorcycle Helmet

Every time I say “motorcycle helmet”, I think of my good Belfastinian (I don’t know what they call someone from Belfast) friend, Diane, who said this in ritual just about every day.

Apparently you can hear the Irish accent in that word along with a few others (cat = kee-yat, cardigan = kee-yard-e-gan, power shower = pawr shawr, etc.). I think the way she says “motorcycle helmet” sounds almost exactly like how WE say it. Well… except,the “cycle” part sounds less like “SIE-KAL” and more like “SICK-KLE”.

Anyhoo… all that to say we’re selling some of our stuff on craigslist and our motorcycle helmets are on that list. We took them down to photograph when… well… I’ll let the video explain it:

I love how creative Chance was in making this work for him.

Deso-Saken

This past weekend, Brian and I had the privilege of going back to La Grande and celebrating his Grandpa Bob’s 89th birthday.

Here’s a picture of Morgan Lake & the Grande Ronde Valley taken right above where his parents house.

Just about everyone was there. All his kids, most of his grandkids and great-grandkids. We all ate, hiked, laughed, chatted and just soaked in the time we had together.

At one point, I was sitting at the dining room table in a pretty deep conversation with my amazing Mom-in-law, Aunt-in-law & Cousin-in-law (Nevermind the “in-law” title. They’re more family than I’ve ever hoped or dreamed of) and looked over to see Grandma Peggy rubbing her sons’ feet… then her daughters’. In that moment, I realized I was sitting in the midst of grace.

Maybe it’s just me, but it was completely foreign to me for the matriarch of the family to be serving her children still. LITERALLY rubbing their feet. That would NEVER have happened in the family I grew up in. Grandma Peggy’s love for them didn’t stop once they were potty-trained or moved out of the house. Her love continued into adulthood. A simple act of servanthood to express that her children will forever have her heart.

For a minute, I mourned.

I mourned the loss of something I never had. Something I WISHED I had. I want to pass that down to my children, but how do I do that when I haven’t ever experienced it.

Then the Lord gently reminded me:

It will no longer be said to you, “Forsaken,”
Nor to your land will it any longer be said, “Desolate”;
But you will be called, “My delight is in her,”
And your land, “Married”;
For the LORD delights in you,
And to Him your land will be married.
And as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride,
So your God will rejoice over you.
~ Isaiah 62:4-5b ~

I heard God whisper sweetly into my heart (as only He can):

“The generational sins of your mother do not define you, Jenni. I do. Now look in front of you and live the life I have set out for you.”

THIS IS MY SECOND CHANCE! This is where I learn to do it right. For my kids. For my husband. For me.

I get a new name. I’ve had a new name for quite some time now. Not because of anything I’ve done… but because of WHO GOD IS. Because God DELIGHTS in me.

In my marriage, I have a new family. One who will teach those who are ready and hungry to learn. And that, I am.

I am not desolate.
I am not forsaken.
I am not deso-saken.
Not anymore.

I belong. Not only to Someone, but to the #ClayvilleClan (yes, I just hashtagged that)… just as God has always planned for me.

When I am 89, I look forward to looking around and seeing my family gathered around me… with ME rubbing THEIR feet. I will delight in my children… and my children’s children.

I may not remember every day, but today, I know:
I am rejoiced over…

… and so are YOU!

Guilt Triggers

All the boys in the neighborhood have at least ONE Bionicle. Chance had none.

I have to be honest… it’s a really cool toy for a boy his age. I told him that once he raised enough in his allowance, he could buy it himself. So he’s been working really hard and raising his funds. He’s had the right amount for over 2 months now, but we just haven’t gone out to get it yet.

One day, last week, our sweet neighbor boy (who also happens to be a good friend of Chance’s) left a part of his Bionicle toy outside (yes, they come in pieces… they are lego afterall). Unbeknownst to me, Chance decided to bring it inside to play with it.

This in itself isn’t bad. But wait…

So, neighbor boy comes to the door and asks, “Have you seen my Bionicle part? I left it outside and it’s not there anymore.” Chance walks outside and proceeds to tell him a long, detailed story about seeing someone pick it up and take it.

The next morning, I see him playing with a toy I had never seen before. As I watch, it all clicked.

I ask about the toy. He gets quiet. I ask more specific questions:

Me: “Is this a Bionicle part?”
Chance: “Mmmhmm.”
M: “Do you have a Bionicle?”
C: “No.”
M: “Does this belong to (
insert neighbors name)?”
C: “He left it outside!”
M: “Yes, I know… did you take it?”
C: “I was just holding it for him, Mom!”
M: “Then, why didn’t you give it back when he came over and asked about it yesterday?”
C: *quiet* then tears.

This was the first time Chance had done anything like this. Chance knew he had messed up. He had taken something that didn’t belong to him, then lied about it for an extended period of time. He was devastated. I was devastated. Not only for him… but for what all this meant. It hit me. Sin nature affects my beautiful children as well.

This triggered so many thoughts within me.

“If this were me when I was little, my mom would be screaming and beating me right now!”
“What’s the right thing to do?”
“Should we just leave it outside and have them find it again?”
“I can’t just glaze over this.”
“This is a teaching moment. I hate teaching moments.”
“Chance needs to be disciplined.”
“But I also
took something that didn’t belong to me and lied about it.”
“OMW… He got this from me.”

I had to leave him in a time-out so I could go upstairs to pray and cry. How do I discipline my child for something I’ve also done?

Remorse. Sadness. Disappointment. Conviction. Humility. Guilt.

Then God whispered His love in my ear: “One of those are not from me, sweet girl.” GUILT.

I got up (4 minute time out for a 4 year old), wiped away my tears, went downstairs, put Chance in my lap:

Me: “Honey, you chose to do a very bad thing. You took something that didn’t belong to you. That’s called stealing… and that makes God, Mommy and Daddy sad. But we can fix it. Do you want to fix it?”
C: *nodded through his tear-filled eyes*
M: “Me too. We need to go next door and return this toy. You need to apologize. And mommy will be there with you the whole time. Are you ready to do this?”
C: *nodded again. then wrapped his arms around my neck.*
M: “Baby… we all mess up sometimes. We all choose the wrong thing to do. And that’s ok as long as we learn from that and don’t do it again. You know Mommy loves you right?”
C: *Quiet* (So, I take his face to mine and ask him…)
M: “Does Mommy love you?”
C: *nods* “Yes.”
M: “You can never do ANYTHING that would make me not love you.”

And there it was.

No matter how much guilt triggered my life, today, I am different. In this moment, I was reminded of what God has been telling me this past year:

“You can never do ANYTHING that would make ME not love you. In fact, I sent my Only Son to die for you so that we could be together forever, I love you that much. Stand up and go make it right.”

A couple days ago, Brian and I took Chance to finally buy his very own Bionicle.

This is a 4 year-old’s version of grace, forgiveness and restoration.

What triggers you?

Father’s Day

We’re here in La Grande, spending Father’s Day with three generations of Clayville Dad’s… my favorite being my Brian.

I love you, Brian…
You’re an amazing father, and there’s no one I’d rather raise our boys with than with you.

Thank you for choosing me…
… for choosing us.

Thank you for all our happy days.

An Invitation…

… to guest post at Nicole’s place.

My sweet friend, Nicole has an amazing story. One of adoption, grace, love, brokenness, forgiveness and redemption. I have no idea how she has survived what she has and come as whole as she has. Her existence proves God’s refinement through the fire… however, it also proves her willingness to reflect who God is in ALL circumstances.

She remembered my post about the joys of an invitation from back in January and asked if she could re-post it for Mother’s Day week:

I’m sitting here watching my 4-year-old.

He grabs a little cup from one of the bottom cabinets (we put all the kids dishes where they can reach them so they can help themselves), scurries over to the fridge, fills his cup with water and drinks from it. Then he grabs a couple apple slices I’ve cut for them and runs over to his 1-year-old little brother.

“Here Paxton… want an apple?”

As they both snack, they sit side-by-side and Chance “reads” to Paxton. Then… out of nowhere… Chance says:

“Hey Mom… you wanna come and read with us?”

Read more at Nicole’s place by clicking HERE!

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