Merry Christmas!

                                                  Merry Christmas from the Polski Family


There is one morning each week when I have the pleasure of being in the car by myself. No kids. No kid’s music. No, on these mornings it’s my choice of radio and my coffee. However, the other morning after arriving at work, it occurred to me that I had spent all thirty minutes of my drive listening to….Veggie Tales. So, to my delight, I had the song, “Oh, Where is my Hairbrush?” stuck in my head all day long. Alas, like most young families, it’s hard to escape the kid’s music, cartoons, make-believing and fairy tales. And yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The joys of hearing my kid’s sing in the back seat makes up for the annoying songs that get stuck in my head. And the precious moments during family movie night make up for the fact that my kids choose the same cartoons and movies over and over and over again. So, this year, I have on my mind some of my kid’s favorites: Tom and Jerry, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, Charlie Brown, and Winnie the Pooh. If we could each be described as a character throughout this year, here’s what we would be:

Ella: Susan from Narnia

Much like the girl in the book, do not mistake Ella’s beauty and interest in clothes for her being a “girlie, girl.” Ella is both athletic and musical and has particularly enjoyed soccer and basketball this year. She has proven to be quite the goalie, saving two penalty kicks for her team! Also, much like Susan, God has graciously given Ella a nurturing and sensitive spirit– always looking out for her younger siblings (as well as her mom and dad). Ella is daily offering to give Lily a bath, help her get dressed, and plays referee when Lily and Jrod get out of control. She has really grown this year – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Here are some highlights of that growth from 2011:

* Ella became a member of our church and now has the blessing of taking communion with the other believers on Sunday mornings.

*I found a timeline Ella had made when going through her backpack. This is what it included: *being born *Jrod and Lily being born *going to school *going to college to play soccer *playing professional soccer *getting married *going to heaven. That piece of paper summed up her desires in so many ways. She is such a wonderful blessing.

Jrod: Jerry the Mouse

There is no doubt that Jrod is charming. His teacher this year said, “I just can’t get enough of Jrod!.” We were glad to hear this, and we weren’t surprised. He’s lovable, funny, and has enjoyed many friendships in his 2nd grade class. He’s taken off with reading, which has been exciting to watch, and his love for soccer has abounded (much to his father’s delight). Last year, his team lost every game. This year, they won every one. And yet, there are times when he makes me want to pull out my hair. Here are a couple highlights of those moments from 2011:

* Jrod locked Lily and me in the bathroom and then ran downstairs to the basement. He explained later that he wanted to “see what would happen.”

* Jrod shared the gospel with Lily: “Lily, you should become a Christian. If you don’t, you will have to walk on fire with Satan. In bare feet.” Jrod always makes me laugh – even when I shouldn’t. He is one of the most charming and endearing kids I have ever been around. And I praise God that he has a sincere love for Jesus and His Word…and he’s never been afraid to share it.

Lily: Lucy from Charlie Brown

Lily is the boss of the Polski household, or so she believes. Lily is quite fearless, loves to whine, let’s her voice be heard in any and all situations, and does not (under any circumstance) allow anyone to tell her she is “too little.” With the start of school, we are pleased to say that Lily has made “real” friends, as opposed to the make-believe ones who have followed us throughout the last year. She loves school, she loves to sing in the kid’s choir at church, and she loves to stand her ground. Here are some of those moments from Lily in 2011:

*Lily’s response to Jrod’s gospel sharing: “Jrod, if I have to walk on fire, then I will just wear my boots.”

* “Lily is delightful,” according to her teacher, “but I don’t think she can quite distinguish the difference between imaginary life and real life. I’m certainly not worried about this…yet.” Lily’s certainly got spunk, and I rest in God’s creativity that He will use it for His glory.

And, believe it or not, Chris and I do a lot more than listen to Veggie Tales and watch movies with the kids. I told Chris he reminds of Owl from Winnie the Pooh (reassuring him this was far better than being Eeyore). He’s been very busy with the building project for Trinity Church. Lord willing, we will have a building for our congregation in the spring of 2012. Along with the heavy but joyful load of pastoral ministry, Chris has enjoyed teaching at Covenant seminary, leading various discipleship groups, and putting together the details for a trip to India in January 2012. He also enjoyed planning for U2 concerts this year, attending U2 concerts, and relishing in the memories of U2 concerts.

Chris told me that I remind him of Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh (reassuring me that this was far better than being Tigger). I’m grateful for a busy year. Along with watching Charlie Brown, I’ve kept busy with a new job as a dental assistant and have loved this new challenge. And for all the years I fought piano lessons, I’m grateful my parents stuck to their guns. I’ve been playing a lot of piano for various choirs, our church ensemble, and weddings. I’m taking guitar lessons, much to my husband’s skepticism. The results of “good idea/bad idea” are still up in the air. I’m looking forward to coaching my daughter’s basketball team and hope that I can keep up with all of the 4th grade energy. I’ve also enjoyed watching Chris get excited about U2, I’ve loved attending the concerts with him, and I am enjoying the break in music due to the Christmas Season.

God is continually faithful, for which we are thankful. After explaining to Jrod that I had bad heart burn on one particular day, his response was this: “Um, Mom? Does heart burn mean that you just love Jesus so much?” This season, I pray that there will be no doubt that we love Jesus…so much.

                                                Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

                                              Love, Susan, Rabbit, Lucy, Owl, and Jerry

What (I Hope) Lily Learns

 My baby starts school this week.  Just a couple of mornings during the week, but still, it's hard for me to believe that she's starting school. 

But this is not just hard to believe because she's my baby.  It's literally hard for me to believe....to picture...to imagine....Lily sitting still, following directions, and listening to a teacher.  And yet, I have to remind myself, when she tells me she can't hear me because make believe 'Rea' is talking too loud, that these are things she will learn.  I'm quite sure that Lily Joy will learn a lot this year.  I hope that Lily Joy will learn a lot this year...

I hope she'll learn how to sit and listen......

 I hope she learns how to raise her hand....

I hope she learns how to write her letters....

 ...and learns that she can't demand. 

I hope she learns of the world around her....

 And how to be polite.....

I hope she learns more about Jesus......

 ...and how to trust in him day and night. 

 But there's one certain thing that I hope Lily learns...

  Dear teacher of Lily....please, oh, please....

Can you possibly teach my daughter.....

....how to say....CHEESE. 

Give me Jesus

I haven't attended any this summer, but through facebook and friends pictures, I've enjoyed looking at the memories of several weddings during the last couple of months. 

One things is common in every single picture:  bliss.  Pure, unadulterated bliss.  It's the beginning of a new life, new adventures, and suddenly the fear of an unknown future is calmed because of the thought that this future will be faced with a partner. As long as they have each other, they'll be OK. 

And yet, we're not guaranteed this partner for the entirety of our lives. 

I have fond memories of listening to my great uncle James read to his wife, Kathleen, when her sight began failing her.  He had done this with his wife for years.  But that's not all they've done hand in hand.  For 65 years, they have spent their lives as partners in any and every situation. 

Today, my uncle James is nearing his heavenly home. For the first time in almost 65 years, this husband and wife are separated.  They can no longer live together because of his ailing body and the help that he requires. 

My heart hurts for both of them and the tragedy that sin has brought into this world.  And yet, the love for my uncle's bride is not all that he has to hold on to.

The other morning he began singing.  In the midst of his own confusion and the unrecognizable sentences that have recently come from his mouth, he began singing a hymn; each word was as clear as the next.  He was praising Jesus. 

It's Jesus that is on his mind as he lies in a bed only understanding some of what is going on around him.  It is Jesus that he is clinging to.  It is Jesus that he longs to see. 

I'm grateful for for my partner in this life.  We have our ups and downs like every couple.  We don't always communicate well.  And yes, a pastor and his wife argue, which apparently is a misconception after talking with a woman once who was somehow surprised by this reality. 

But I'm in love.  I'm so very in love with a husband who is supportive and gracious.  A husband who I can laugh with and a partner who is always honest with me, pulling me back into reality when necessary (which is more often the case than I'd like to admit).  Most importantly, I'm thankful for a husband who always points me back to Jesus.

Yes, I'm in love.  But I love Jesus more.  And my husband would not want that any other way.  As difficult as it seems for me on a daily basis, I am reminded, through the examples of people like my uncle James and aunt Kathleen, that I should never live for my husband.  I should never live for my children.  I should be living for Jesus alone. It is Jesus who holds our future.  It is Jesus who supplies our needs.  And it is Jesus that we will one day behold, face to face, and it will be beyond blissful.  

In the morning when I rise

In the morning when I rise

In the morning when I rise

Give me Jesus

Give me Jesus

Give me Jesus

You can have all this world

Just give me Jesus

Jeremy Camp

Desperate Times; Desperate Measures.

 Each of my children are very familiar with a certain time around our house.  It's called "rest time."  I can't call it nap time since, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I have been chosen to mother "those" children.  The ones who stopped napping soon after they were able to walk. The ones who because they didn't nap were cranky by 4:00.  And I'm the mom who keeps trying to figure out what magical potion mother's give their children who are still taking naps at ages four and five. 

My son quit napping at eighteen months.  Because of the fact that he was in the "zero percentile" for height and weight, had little interest in food (yes, my husband lived through my "what if he's not my child" freak out session one night in bed), I was constantly baffled as to where his energy came from and why in the world that energy didn't drop from 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m. each day like every other child?

Ella, my oldest, quit her naps at eighteen months as well. When the day came that I realized she just was not going to sleep, I became desperate.  Frankly, I didn't know what in the world I would do without those two hours of respite.  I didn't understand why the doctors at the hospital sent me home with this child without addressing how I would handle this fateful day.  Nap time withdraw was a dangerous place to be as a tired mother of two littles; I decided that this desperate situation called for a desperate measure. 

So, I put a child proof door handle on Ella's door and gave simple instructions:  "You stay in your room until it's time to get out."

It worked like a charm.  Every afternoon Ella would play quietly in her room for two hours - I thought I was mommy genius.

So, at eighteen months, Jrod received his first "lock me up" handle as well.  I gave him the same simple instructions:  "I'll let you out when it's time.  Just stay quiet."

He stayed quiet alright.  To this day, I will never understand why the toy store that was his room was less interesting than his dirty diapers.

For two weeks straight, we had post rest time stress disorder around our house.  I would think he was quietly playing - or, gasp, napping - but then, when it came time to gear up and let my children go, I would discover the horrifying art of human feces all over Jrod's room.

Day after day, I would convince myself that the stern discipline had finally soaked in.  Each afternoon I'd assure myself: It won't happen again.  He's too afraid.  He won't do it.  He gets it.  Put the carpet cleaner away.  

After two weeks, I thought my son might have a learning problem.  My pediatrician assured me he was just fine.

Just on the brink of giving up on rest time and letting my children run free for those two precious hours, I came up with another idea.

Desperate times calls for desperate measures.

We gave Jrod a "special belt."  He was quite pleased with the duct tape that went around him three times every afternoon.  We told him Superman wears a special belt too.

My rest time was restored.  No more messy, hour long cleanups with carpet cleaners and bleach.  We were good to go.  Again, I thought I was mommy genius.

But then we had a third child.  She too, in line with the curse that is upon me, gave up naps at eighteen months.

So, Lily was introduced to "rest time." 

I gave her the same simple speech:  "You stay quiet in your room until I come to get you." 


It was brilliant.  She caught onto rest time like nothing I had ever seen - there were times I even rewarded her with M & M's for a rest time well done.   


It lasted about two weeks.

I was used to listening to Lily's conversations with her make believe friend, Rea, and I was even used to the harmonica and accordion that she played on a regular basis.   It was the large banging that kind of alarmed me.

On this particular day, this is what I found: 
Lily had broken off the leg of her beautiful wooden table.  I don't know how.  Jrod says that she's not a human being and for a minute I kind of believed him. 

And then, a few days later, I went to grab a bathing suit from her drawer.  There was, however, no drawer.  She had somehow ripped the entire front off the drawer and I found it laying on top of her trash can.  She told me she'd take it to the downstairs trash because it was too big for hers.  Thanks, Lily.
 

 And then a few days after that, rest time concluded with the discovery of a large amount of rice covering the floor of her room as well as large amounts poured down the vent.  At this point I asked my husband to assure me that "Rea" was not some "being" living in my daughters room.  He assured me.  Jrod stood by his conclusion that she's an alien with magical powers.   

 And then a few days after that, I went to gather her from rest time only to discover that her beautiful, wooden chaise lounge was broken apart.  I still cannot not figure out how a three year old could possibly do this.  I'm beginning to think along the same lines as Jrod. 

 And again.  The nice shelf white shelf with a wooden door is now door-less.  Although lily claims that it "still works momma" by simply placing it in front of the shelf. 

 And the nicely painted green?  Apparently it's not that difficult to chip away paint with your fingernails - even when you're three. 

 I decided to leave up the cute, but now destroyed by my toddler, curtain tieback in hopes that her "magical powers" will restore it to it's intended form. 

 The stranger thing is that Lily does none of this out of anger (or so it appears).  When I come in to get her, even if she's naked from head to toe, she's happy as a lark. 

 

I suppose rest time may be over in the Polski house hold sooner than I had hoped.  But, for now, I keep a box of tools in the closet near Lily's bedroom.  Besides, desperate times calls for desperate measures. 

Parenthood

We made it nearly nine years without taking one of our children to the ER.   I’d say, judging by those around me with young children, that this is something to be thankful for.  

  

I always wondered which adventure would land us in the ER for the first time.  I figured it would be Jrod – perhaps a broken bone from falling off the street sign that he loves to climb, or maybe stitches from falling into the coffee table after taking off from his hand –made vault. 

Not surprisingly, our first trip to the ER involved Jrod.  Surprisingly, our first trip to the ER had nothing to do with any of his various adventures.  Poor Jrod was hunched over with pain in his stomach.  Typically this would not be alarming.  He has inherited stomach issues from both sides of the family.  Usually a Tums and a bathroom break are all he needs.  

His reaction was not exactly out of the ordinary either.  Jrod is my drama king.  We don’t have a drama queen in our house, even though the odds were in the girls’ favor.  No, our Jrod does not have his dad’s calm and cool personality.  He has mine; poor fellow.  

He was out with his grandparents, and the pain didn’t seem to let up.  So, we figured it was better to be safe than sorry.  And so, hunched over in pain in the backseat, I drove to my son to the ER.  

By the time we got to the hospital, Jrod hopped out of the car and stated that he felt fine.  In that moment my maternal instincts kicked in.  I put him back in the car, called my husband, and told him I was positive it was just gas.  Chris was already on his way and he assured me that it was better to be safe than sorry.  

So, we went in.  I went to the front desk to register.  The woman behind the desk asked if I was registering for myself.  I told her I was there for my son and turned around to point him out.  The least he could do was sit on the chair and act sick.  But no, he was spinning around as fast as he could, doing his “dizzy lizzy” game - the same game that caused him to throw up his breakfast a couple of days earlier.  

I assured her that literally moments ago he was doubled over in pain. 

After waiting, my husband and I, and our used to be doubled over in pain son, headed back to the the pediatric wing.  A nurse had him sit down in a chair to answer a few questions. 

 

“Jrod, when did your tummy start hurting?”  

He gave it absolutely no thought:  “After I ate the popcorn at the movie theater.” 

“Oh.  How much did you eat?”  

No way was I going to let this nurse think that we brought him in for a tummy ache caused by eating too much junk food.  So, I interjected:  “I have been assured that he did not eat that much.”  She gave me a very particular smile.  The ones that said, “Yep, you’re that mom.”  So I let Jrod keep talking.  Unfortunately. 

“Jrod, when does your tummy usually hurt like this?”  

Again, he gave his answer no thought:  “Well, it’s usually after dinner because I eat so much food.  I eat so much food.  I mostly eat a ton of Mac and Cheese – like eight bowls.”  

The nurse probably sensed my next interjection coming and concluded out loud that he didn’t look like he ate quite as much as he said he ate.  But that was all.  She didn’t make any comments about the kind of food he said he ate.  She couldn’t hold me back:  “We don’t let him eat just Mac and Cheese; he doesn’t eat much, but he eats well rounded meals.  I can assure you.”  

“Uh-huh.  So, Jrod, do you drink a lot of milk and water?”  

“Nope.  I drink sprite. Pretty much just sprite.”  

I gave up.   I figured the more I defended myself, the guiltier I looked.  

After asking where his stomach hurt, and Jrod saying that it didn’t, they moved us back to the room for a precautionary X-Ray.  I was instructed to put him in a gown.  Jrod couldn’t believe that his loving mother would put him in a “dress that has dogs with balloons in their mouths” on it.   The only way I could get him in the gown was to assure him that everyone who is in the ER has to wear the gown.  

He looked kind of cute.  In fact, Chris wanted to take a picture.   My son put his foot down and we realized we were being a little idiotic, so instead of capturing the moment, we pulled out the ipad to keep him occupied.  About ten minutes into his game, Jrod declared he had to go to the bathroom.  

I was glad, figuring this was the problem to begin with, until I realized he simply had to pee.  It was all of the sudden urgent, so we hurried down the hallway.  Our walk of shame included Jrod holding himself with one hand and with the other pointing out every person he saw who did not have on a gown with dogs with balloons in their mouths.

The bathroom was in use, so we waited.  And again the drama surfaced.  While swaying from side to side, holding himself with both hands, and moaning, he made clear that he needed a toilet now.  One of the nurses heard him and rushed us off to another bathroom down another hallway where Jrod again pointed out each and every person who was not in a gown with dogs and balloons. 

When we had safely used the bathroom, I made very clear to him that he shouldn’t wait to use the bathroom until it’s an emergency. 

“But, Mom!  I was playing risk and I had a really good set up.  I was totally about to take over the world.”  

Of course. He was about to take over the world.  What was I thinking?  

We waited and finally saw someone that I hoped was the doctor; unfortunately it was just someone to fill out paper work.  She asked us for our insurance card.  I had it in my hands only moments before, but now that she was asking for it, I couldn’t find it anywhere.  

Chris asked me if I checked my wallet.  Of course I checked my wallet.  I assured him that I had checked my wallet.  So, my husband went to get his wallet out of the car.  He came back quickly.  He had forgotten his wallet at home.  

In a moment of panic, I asked the woman if she would watch my son while my husband and I looked for the insurance card.  

Chris asked me again if I looked in my wallet.  That was the wrong question at the wrong time. 

We began searching the germ infested ER for a card that I swore I had in my hands only moments before.  After searching the bathrooms, the waiting room, and the hallway, I gave up.  I wanted a Lysol shower.  When I opened the door to our room, I caught the tail end of the conversation between Jrod and the woman, who was kneeling patiently next to him:  “Yea, I like Mac and Cheese too.”  

Come on.  

My husband was trying to figure out how to move ahead with the paper work without the insurance card while I gave my wallet one last try.  There it was.  I quickly exclaimed, “I found it!”   My husband immediately inquired, “Where?”  

Good grief.  

Once the woman left, I anxiously moved over to the sink to wash away the germs from my adventure through the ER.  

The water wouldn’t come out.  Of course we had the room with the broken sink.  “Of course we do!”  I raised my voice at the sink and gave it a kick.  Jrod pointed to the hand sanitizer on the wall.  It was empty.  Of course it was empty. 

We finally saw the doctor.  The first thing she did upon entering the room was walk over to the sink to wash her hands.  My son quickly explained to the doctor that his mom already tried to wash her hands but that the sink was broken.  She then pushed on a lever on the floor, explaining that it doesn’t turn on the normal way. 

“Look, mom!  Your kicking didn’t totally break it!”  

Thanks, son.  

“A lot of people can’t figure out how to turn it on.”  

Thanks, doctor. 

We listened to her ask the same questions and heard Jrod recite the same answers.  I was too tired to interject.  I even let Jrod explain to the doctor all the various reasons as to why he believes that his younger sister has magic powers.  

Clearly ready to discharge us, she showed us the X-Rays and gave us her professional opinion:  he needed to poop.  

“Yes, I do.”  Jrod said, as if he had been telling us this for the last three hours and we had been refusing him the toilet.  “It’s just that I can only go when I’m at home.”  

So, almost three hours later, we arrived back at home.  Jrod immediately went to the bathroom and all was Okay.  I assured him I was not going to pay that kind of money for that kind of diagnosis again.  My instructions to my beloved middle child were clear as crystal:  As soon as you feel like you have to go, Jrod, you go.  No matter where you are.  

This morning, while cleaning up breakfast, I found my sons pants in the kitchen trash can.   After much inquiry, I discovered that he woke up and felt like he had to go.  So he went. 

     

Today

Today is Jrod’s birthday.  He’s seven today.  Can’t quite believe he’s seven (considering the fact that the shirt I bought him for his birthday is 4T, and will fit him perfectly).  That boy has a life about him that is all at once energizing, perplexing, and addictive.  He loves life and lives it to the fullest. 

The world is black and white to Jrod.  From personal experience, this may one day work against him, but for now, his simplistic perspective is nothing short of beautiful.   He worries little, acccepting with ease what comes his way.  

Jrod is creative.  This can be to my demise, but I have to give him credit.  When he runs out of toilet paper, why not use the shower curtain?  When the backyard slide has lost its excitement, why not go down it in a box?  And when you can’t think of another way to pass a hot summer day, why not sit on top of mom’s car and use the front window as a ramp for Hot Wheels?  

I love Jrod and can’t seem to get enough of him.  I’m grateful to the Lord for Jrod’s seven years. 

Today is my grandfather’s birthday.  Today he is eighty-three.  I can’t quite believe he’s eighty-three.  If you know my grandfather, you know that age hasn’t seemed to slow him.  When I think about my grandfather, I think about these three things:  Godly living, hard working, and the sun.  John Buswell is a man that exudes God’s presence in every part of his life:   Never leaving our presence without praying; and offering words of wisdom that come from God’s word in the pulpit, during the baptisms of his grandchildren and great grandchildren, and sitting around the dinner table.  He has passed on to the next generation the importance of pursuing endlessly a deep relationship with Jesus. 

John Buswell is one of the hardest working men I have ever known.  But, to no avail, as hard working as my grandfather is, he knows how to rest.  

To this day, he has the unique ability to soak up every ray of sun, leaving little for the poor pale soul who decides to join him on the beach.  I love my grandfather and look forward each year to those sunny days on the beach.  I’m grateful to the Lord for my grandfather’s eighty-three years.

 

And still there is someone else on my heart.  Today my sister, Erin, will have surgery.  The eight hour procedure will begin this morning while the doctors attempt to remove the tumor that has inflicted her body.  This, I still can’t quite believe.  I am grateful to the Lord for all He has instilled in Erin during the last thirty years.  Because of her unending love for Jesus, she has blessed so many through her own difficult journey.  

Today I am reminded that God holds our future in the palm of his hands.  Whether a rambunctious seven year old, an eighty-three year old who has lived a full life, or a thirty year old mother with cancer, only God knows what tomorrow holds.  And so, in this very moment, I embrace this truth and rejoice in one who holds today.