How Abby Taught Me To Feel Pretty

As a mother of a little girl (soon to be two little girls!), I am always concerned about teaching my daughter how to love herself. Growing up, I never felt like the "pretty girl." The smart girl, the tall sister, the loud one - all these things, but never really the pretty girl. (No - this is not a pity party for teenage Kristen. I look back fondly on my teenage years and have lots of great memories from middle school and high school.) It wasn't until I met Carey that I truly felt beautiful. I guess finding an amazing man to love and who loves you back has that effect on a person...

Anyway, it's always on my mind that I want Abby to know that she is beautiful, inside and out, and to feel comfortable with herself. I see the Hand of God in my daughter - her dimples, her beautiful brown eyes, her loving heart, her tenderness toward her siblings. And her long brown hair.

When I was growing up, I did not particularly like my hair. It's straight, brown, and blah. It wouldn't hold color. It wouldn't keep a curl. It just wouldn't do anything. So I tried to get it to do something, anything, else. I permed it. I lightened it in the summer. I dyed it every color of the rainbow, from blonde-ish to light brown to such a dark red that it almost looked purple. After I got married and got a job, I'd pay ridiculous prices for highlights at my favorite salon. One visit, after almost 3 hours in the chair and over $150, I realized that I didn't want to do it anymore. I had subsequent haircuts to facilitate the growing out of my highlights, and I haven't done anything to my hair since. This hair - this straight, muddy brown mess - was all mine. And I would find a way to love it as it was.

It's been almost a year since I cut my hair short and got bangs. I still love my short hair. Funny enough, now that my hair is shorter, I can see that it has natural highlights. The stuff on my head that I always thought was muddy brown is actually many different shades of brown, from very light to very dark. Because I don't chemically treat it, it shines and is thick and strong. At my most recent haircut, my stylist told me that people come into the salon asking for the kind of color that I have naturally. I responded to her comment by saying that I used to hate my hair, but after Abby was born and grew such beautiful brown hair, I came to love mine, too. As the words left my mouth, I realized how true they were.

As a mother, I only see beauty when I look at Abigail. I love her hair. I love to brush it. I love to style it for special occasions. I love when it tickles me as we cuddle. I love my little girl's straight brown hair. (And let's face it: between my straight Kowalczyk hair and Carey's straight Chinese hair, did we really expect a curly-headed baby? No, we did not...) Each day, I tell Abby how beautiful her hair is. And her response: "I love that I have brown hair, just like you, mommy."

So, each day, I remind myself that I have a little person who is watching how I behave and listening to how I talk about myself. And as I tell my brown-haired, brown-eyed little girl how beautiful she is and how perfectly made by God she is, I find myself realizing that I, too, am perfectly made. And more than just saying the words, as I look at my precious Abigail, I know that I believe those words.

Seven Days of Thanks: Day 7 - A Thanksgiving Day Prayer

Happy Thanksgiving, dear readers! I hope that today will inspire you to an attitude of gratitude for the many blessings in your lives, and to keep in thought and prayer those who are not so fortunate. Today, I would like to share a prayer that I received at my MOMS group several years ago. It is something that we like to pray every year at Thanksgiving.

Psalm 100: A psalm for giving grateful praise

Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth.
Worship the Lord with gladness; come before him with joyful songs.
Know that the Lord is God. It is he who made us, and we are his;
    we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise;
    give thanks to him and praise his name.
For the Lord is good and his love endures forever;
    his faithfulness continues through all generations.  -NIV

Why We Opted for Genetic Testing - A Catch-Up Post

{I know this post is very long, but I hope you'll stick with it to the end.

This is truly a piece of my heart.}

Ten weeks ago, at our 20-week ultrasound, we found out that the precious life growing inside me was a precious little girl. (We shared the good news here.) What we didn't share at that time was that we had also received some very scary news.

At our 12-week ultrasound, we had a nuchal translucency screening (just as we'd had for Abby and Zach). With a finger-prick of blood and a few ultrasound measurements of the baby's neck, the test results give you a likelihood of your baby having a chromosomal abnormality or major heart defect. This number, looked at in conjunction with maternal age, history of past pregnancies, etc., helps your doctor decide whether s/he should suggest you have additional testing done. With Little Lady, as with Abby and Zach, our numbers came back well within the normal range, so my doctor saw no need to order additional tests. Carey and I were excited and relieved.

However, just 8 weeks later, at our mid-point ultrasound, the doctor performing my ultrasound (not my OB/GYN, but one of the doctors at the hospital) found some cause for concern. Measurements of the baby's neck were borderline abnormal. She gave us several reasons why this could be. First, it could simply be the angle of the ultrasound or the angle at which Baby Girl was laying in my belly. Second, it could be due to her half-Asian lineage, as Asian babies sometimes tend to have higher neck measurements. Third, it could be that the baby had grown more than expected since our 12-week ultrasound, so her neck was measuring larger due to her entire body being larger. And fourth, and most frightening of all, our precious baby could have a chromosomal abnormality or a major heart defect. I remember sitting in the doctor's office as she reviewed these possibilities. I remember my heart stopping as she said the words "major heart defect" and "chromosomal abnormality." I remember hearing her say that, if we decided that we would like to undergo further testing, she could confidently say that there was a "medical necessity" for it, as most insurance companies will only cover these expensive tests with confirmation from your physician that they were necessary. I remember sitting in a private room so Carey and I could discuss our options, and able to do nothing but cry. Flashbacks of 2010 were in my mind. A healthy baby at one ultrasound, and a complete reversal at the next ultrasound. Given, our baby was not dead, thank God, but we were facing the possibility that she might be born with a condition "incompatible with life," and we were terrified.

The doctor explained her suggested course of treatment. Advances had been made in genetic testing. She was suggesting a blood test called MaterniT21. Two vials of my blood would be taken and sent to a laboratory in California. Baby Girl's blood cells would be separated from mine and tested directly. The test would give us a positive or negative result for several of the most common types of chromosomal abnormalities, including Down syndrome, Edwards syndrome, and Patau syndrome. (Edwards and Patau syndromes often lead to severe birth defects and babies who rarely survive beyond their first few months of life...) The doctor also suggested that I have a fetal echocardiogram, a type of ultrasound performed by a specially trained ultrasound sonographer and reviewed by a pediatric cardiologist, to take a very close, very detailed look at the baby's heart.

Carey and I were at a loss. Whatever the results of these tests, we knew that we would not be terminating the pregnancy. I had already felt this sweet girl moving inside of me - how could I even entertain the thought of ending her life? However, after discussing our options, we both agreed that we would prefer to undergo the testing. We had two main reasons for agreeing. First, both tests posed little or no threat to me and the baby. Other tests may increase the likelihood of miscarriage or harm to the baby, but a simple blood test and another ultrasound would not pose a threat to either the baby's life or mine. Second, and most important, we wanted to know. I know so little about Down syndrome and heart conditions - if we were going to be caring for a sweet baby with one or both of these issues, we wanted to be as informed and prepared as we could be prior to the delivery. And if, God forbid, our child did have a health issue that would be incompatible with life, we wanted to know and prepare, rather than be surprised in the delivery room.

Our 20 week ultrasound took place on a Friday, and I was able to see the cardiologist the following Monday. The ultrasound took quite a while (almost 45 minutes), but the doctor was able to give us wonderful news: he saw no evidence of any major heart defects. Praise God! As he went through all of the issues that they check for as part of this test (all four chambers in the correct locations, all arteries and veins in the correct locations, no major holes in any walls of the heart), I was overwhelmed by just how many things could go wrong and overjoyed that all was well with Little Lady's heart. (The only caveat that the doctor gave me was that her heart is still too small for him to view small holes in her heart. After she is born, he suggested that she be monitored by our pediatricians to confirm that there are no heart murmurs. If a murmur is present, he suggested we return to him for care/treatment. But, he said that he saw nothing on the echocardiogram that would indicate that she needed any additional heart tests while in utero.)

While we were, of course, incredibly happy at the news that our baby's heart was healthy and strong, we were still waiting to hear back from the lab regarding our genetic testing. I tried not to worry. I tried not to allow my concern to show in front of Abby and Zach. But my big girl is a smart girl, and she knew that something was not quite right. When Carey and I explained to her that the doctors were worried that baby sister might not be completely healthy, Abby began to pray for her little sister's health, at church, when we said grace before meals, each night before bed. It touched my heart to see my little girl being so loving and so brave, and it helped me cope with the long days of waiting.

Another thing that helped me a great deal in those difficult days was a song. I am a music lover, and I often find songs that speak to me, regardless of the situation I find myself in. Shortly before our 20-week ultrasound, I received my pre-ordered copy of Mandisa's newest album, Overcomer. (You may remember Mandisa from American Idol Season 5.) The title song, Overcomer, has become an unofficial anthem for cancer survivors, as well as anyone who has overcome the odds. I happened to be listening to the CD on my way home from the cardiologist, and I really listened to the lyrics. At one point in the song, Mandisa sings: "Whatever it is you may be going through, I know He's not gonna let it get the best of you." I seriously burst into tears. Not because I knew that God would heal our baby, but because I knew that God had given us the baby we were meant to have. Did we pray that our baby would be healthy? Of course. But, at that moment, I knew in my heart that He would be with us, regardless of what happened with these tests. I am married to an amazing man who is loving and kind and hard-working and goes out of his way to prepare for everything. This baby could have no better father. I am mother to a sweet little girl who has such a loving heart and kindness about her. This baby could have no better big sister. I am mother to a joyful little boy whose smiles light up the room and who hugs can heal. This baby could have no better big brother. I am daughter and sister and granddaughter and niece in a loving family who have cried with us, prayed with us, supported us and shown such love for us. This baby could have no better extended family. As the song said, God would not let this situation get the best of us. He has given us everything that we need to love and care for this child, regardless of what that care will entail.

I was able to go through the rest of my week in peace. Of course, we continued to pray for this little one, but we also prayed for His peace and His comfort for our family. So it was with a calm heart that I answered the phone on Friday afternoon and was given the most beautiful news I could have hoped for: the genetic testing came back negative for all of the abnormalities that were tested. Our little girl is healthy. I just kept saying that over and over again in my mind. I cried tears of joy as I told Abby and Zach. It led to singing and dancing and a very happy phone call to Carey, who was still at work. It led to happy phone calls to family and joyous emails to prayer chains who had been keeping this little one lifted up in prayer. And it led to praise of the Lord, who not only placed a healthy, growing little girl in my womb, but gave our family another gift: the gift of peace, understanding, and knowledge that we are strong together.

{In case you haven't heard Mandisa's song, Overcomer, or seen the video, you can view it here. The video includes guest appearances by Robin Roberts, Scott Hamilton, and Gabby Giffords, three shining examples of what it means to overcome.}

http://youtu.be/b8VoUYtx0kw

Red Light, Green Light

I was cleaning up the back-end of my blog - checking posts and finishing or deleting unfinished drafts - and I found this post that I was working on right about this time last year (mid-August 2012), but never got around to posting. You see, this was a sensitive topic for Carey and me. We were working through a major decision for our family, and it was unsettling and extremely difficult. I took to my blog as I tried to work out the feelings and emotions that were swirling around us. But for some reason, I never hit that "publish" button...

So, I've mentioned before that Carey and I were discussing if we'd like to have any more kids. (As much as we can make that decision. Abby and Zach were two of God's wonderful surprises, so I get the feeling that if it is His plan for a third Baby Ng, nothing Carey or I say will really stop that...) Before Zach was born, we'd discussed having at least three, possibly four kids. With everything that our poor little man went through during his first month of life (read all about that here), we began to entertain the idea that, maybe, just maybe, two kids was enough for us. As we approached Zach's first birthday, we began discussing if we did indeed want another child.

I have to be honest: this is the hardest decision I have ever made. Marrying Carey: not a hard decision. Deciding that we wanted to have children together: not a hard decision. Deciding that we wanted to try for a second child, even after our miscarriage: not a hard decision. Perhaps it's been that all of these decisions have been moving us forward. They've been green-light decisions. They've been decisions to take us to another place in our relationship.

But what about the decision to stop? Have we really made any red-light decisions in our relationship? Not really... Yet here we sit, preparing to make a very big red-light decision. A decision that will affect how our family looks forever...

I was struck by the lines I'd written in the first paragraph about Abby and Zach being God's wonderful surprises and nothing we choose to do could possibly stop God's plan for our family. And it is true. We were not trying to get pregnant. As difficult as the decision was, we had pretty much decided that we were done having children. And yet, here I sit. With two babies asleep upstairs and a baby growing in my belly. I am surprised. I am thankful. And I am grateful for a God who is patient with "our plans" and wondrously generous with His blessings, even when we believe that we're at a red light.

Sandy

Nothing could have prepared us for this.

Two weeks ago, "Superstorm" Sandy crashed down on the northeast, hitting the tri-state area (New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut) especially hard. We dealt with a hurricane last year (Irene in August), and while it wasn't fun, it was nothing like this. Our power was out for just over a day, and it caused some downed tree limbs in our neighborhood. But, Sandy wasn't an ordinary hurricane. Unlike Irene, she didn't make landfall before hitting our area, so she was strong. But she was also mixed with a winter storm, the jet stream and high tide. Superstorm, indeed.

While we had our evacuation bags packed, we hunkered down and rode out the storm at home. (Our house is not in a flood zone, so our town did not issue an evacuation order.) Sunday began with some wind and rain. Monday really brought the power of the storm. Our power went out around 4:30 pm on Monday afternoon. All of us slept downstairs as we heard the wind whistling and the crash of trees and limbs. By around 1:00 am on Monday, the worst of the storm had passed through, so Tuesday morning found many folks in our neighborhood out and about, checking on neighbors and surveying Sandy's aftermath.

The end of our block. (There is a car under the downed limbs on the right.)

Our babysitter's car was crushed under this tree...

Our brother-in-law and sister-in-law's house,
which also experienced damage to the roof and chimney on the back side of the house.

Do you see the person on the right side of this photo, in the navy coat?
Look how small she is compared to the uprooted tree roots...

Another downed tree at the end of our block.

This tree went through the home's front entryway.
(Thankfully, everyone inside was okay.)

Another downed tree that took out the power lines.

An uprooted tree around the corner from our house.

All this devastation in the neighborhood, and this was our front lawn.

That's right - one tree limb, which bent our gutter, but caused no real damage to our home, cars, or property. I remember standing in our front lawn, unable to process how incredibly fortunate we were. Giant trees had been uprooted all around our neighborhood, and yet, this was it at our house. Our property was fine, but more importantly, we were fine. My family was safe, thank God. Walking around the neighborhood, I saw neighbors checking on neighbors and heard the good news that our neighbors were fine, too.

I know that our area was extremely lucky - our neighborhood had no flooding and power was restored to houses fairly quickly. (Our power was back on Friday, four days after it went out, with power restored to most other parts of our neighborhood within 7-8 days after the storm.) Since we were without power, on Wednesday morning, I took the kids and drove up to my mom's house. (Proof that you are never too old to need your mother. She allowed the kids and I to invade her house on less than a day's notice for what would be an indeterminate amount of time. After being frightened by the storm, Abby and Zach loved our "vacation" to Grandma's house!)

On our way upstate, I passed no fewer than a dozen convoys of utility trucks headed towards the tri-state area. Each time I'd see one, I would point it out to Abby and tell her how fortunate we were to have people who were willing to help us. (On our way back to Long Island, we passed several convoys returning upstate, including a group of three trucks flying the Canadian flag.)

The kids and I drove back yesterday, after almost two weeks upstate. Long Island (and the other parts of the tri-state area recovering from the storm) is still feeling Sandy's after-effects. Cut up trees and limbs sit by the side of the road, or in some cases, in the road. Utility crews still work hard to restore power and other services to homes. Gas lines are still long (though not as bad as they were immediately after the storm).

And yet, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude as I pulled into our driveway yesterday. I saw the lights on in our home and neighborhood. I saw our mums returned to our front steps. I saw Abby run into the waiting arms of her papa, whom we'd all missed so much. (Carey was expected at work whenever power was restored to his office, so he did not come upstate with us.) I returned to my home, a privilege that many people will not be afforded after this storm. We're doing what we can, donating clothing, food, and our time to help those who were not so fortunate. If you're able, won't you consider doing the same? ABC news has a list of organizations who are accepting donations to help those hit hardest by the storm. (This includes donating blood to assist with the blood shortages that resulted from so many blood drives being cancelled.) Did you know you can text the word "Redcross" to 90999 to make a $10 donation? So please, help out in whatever way you can, whether by a monetary donation, a donation of food or supplies, or by raising up those affected in your prayers.

Mourning

As Carey walked in the door tonight, Abby looked at him over the back of the chair and told him, "Daddy, today Doug died and went up to heaven to be with Jesus."

He was a big man. Yes, he was physically tall, but he also had a big personality. He was always smiling. He was always laughing.

Doug and Abigail - Christmas Day 2008

 

He was a veteran. He served in the Navy during World War II. He lived his love for his country during his military service and every day after.

Doug and the Kowalczyk Clan - Independence Day 2011

 

But, what I will remember most is the love and care that he showed for my mother. The many outings and events they would attend together. The times that something in my mom's house needed to be fixed and he knew just who to call. The calls to say hello and make sure that she was okay. The flowers that were delivered to work every week to brighten her day and remind her that she was loved.

Doug, Zachary, and Mom - Christmas Eve 2011

I sat on the couch, trying to explain his death to Abby. This is the first time that I've really had to explain death to my child. Her great-grandmother passed away in January, but Abby had never met her in person. Abby, however, does know Doug. She asks about him whenever we talk about Grandma Jadwiga. She prays for him every night when she says her prayers. She saw him just a few weeks ago when we were upstate for Labor Day. How can I explain to a 4 year old that she will not see Doug again? I explained that Doug had gotten very sick and since Doug had been alive for much longer than Abby, sometimes his body had a harder time fighting off the yucky germs. I explained that the doctors and nurses did everything they could to help Doug get better. But, God had decided that it was time for Doug to go to heaven. As the tears welled up in Abby's eyes, I told her that it was okay to be sad - that we would miss Doug, and Grandma Jadwiga would miss Doug, and Doug's daughter and her family would miss Doug. But I told her that we can also be happy, because Jesus is so excited to welcome Doug into heaven. I reminded her that Doug was a good, kind man and God loves him very much. So we should also be happy that Doug is with Jesus right now. Abby then looked at me and said, "I bet Jesus will give Doug a big hug." Yes, sweetheart, I bet He will.

Rest in peace, Doug. God bless you.

Parenting with the Windows Open

Summer has finally cooled down enough that instead of hibernating inside with the air conditioning, we are actually able to enjoy time outside and open the windows to allow breezes into our home. I love it.

Funny enough, earlier this week, our open windows presented me with a parenting moment, and it wasn't necessarily a good one.

Abby was sitting at the table eating her lunch. As a special treat, I had bought her a single-serving bowl of Beefaroni. (Yes, yes, canned beef product and noodles - not my finest mommy moment, but she loves them and we only do it every once in a while...) I was putting my own lunch dishes in the sink when I heard a bump from the other room, followed by a "Sorry, mommy..." I turn around to find half a bowl of Beefaroni on the floor and Abby with her spoon in mid-air. I lost it. In my best "repressing my anger" voice, I asked Abby why her lunch was on the floor. She admitted that she wasn't holding onto the bowl. When I asked her why, she replied "because I wasn't." (Hello phrase that triggers my anger...) I sent her to the bathroom to clean herself up while I began cleaning up the floor. After cleaning the floor and letting Zach out of his booster chair, I went into the bathroom to find that, instead of cleaning her hands and face like I had asked, Abby was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, pouting because I hadn't let her put her dirty spoon in the sink. (And cue second loss of temper in the last five minutes...) After getting Abby cleaned up and in bed for an early, extended quiet rest time, I realized that I could hear my neighbors, who were speaking at normal volumes in their backyard, clearly through my open windows. This also meant that they most likely heard my half-hearted attempts at keeping my voice calm and steady (a.k.a. angry voice and frustrated words).

The next day, we were in the grocery store and Zach was itching to get out of the cart, which meant I was pushing snacks, his sippy cup, and a bunch of toys at him in an attempt to keep him calm long enough to finish my shopping. As we were going down a fairly crowded aisle, Zach dropped a toy on the ground and Abby said, "Oh Zachy, you're being such a pain in the butt!" {Insert mortified mom here.} Yes, I sometimes jokingly tell the kids that they're being a pain in mommy's butt, followed by playful nibbles, tickles and hugs. So imagine my shock when a comment I had made as a joke was taken out of context by my almost-4 year old. In a crowded grocery store.

So what's the point of all this? Not more mommy guilt, I hope? After thinking about it, I realized that the point is that I sometimes parent like no one is listening. I say things, even in a joking manner, that I probably wouldn't say if someone else was around. But now I have a preschooler who repeats everything that I say, even if I wish she wouldn't. I have open windows and anyone in the neighborhood could hear my words. But, most importantly, God is always listening. He hears the words that I speak to my children, my two precious blessings from Him. I imagine there are times when he shakes his head at a random comment or tone of voice that I use with His blessings. I imagine there are times when he would like to remind me of the way that my parents spoke to me, with kindness and love, but firmly when necessary. I imagine there are times when he'd like to use a mute button on me before I say something that I will regret later.

So, the past few days, I've been trying much harder to watch my words, because I know people are listening. I know that my words and my tone of voice are making an impression on Abigail (and Zach). I know that whatever I say could be repeated, in or out of context, at any time. So, I am trying to say things that I would only say in front of anyone. I am trying to use a tone of voice that I would use in front of anyone. This doesn't mean that I'm not disciplining and directing my children. I still have to teach Zach to not hit and stay away from "yucky" things in our house (like garbage cans). I still have to help refine Abigail's manners and stop pouting fits. But I realize that I want to do this, in private, in the same manner that I would in public. I want to be consistent. I want to be kind and loving. I want God to know that I will strive every day to be a better mother to these two amazing children that He has given me. So from now on, I'm parenting with my windows open.

A Difficult Day...

"The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away;

may the name of the LORD be praised." - Job 1:21

Please click here.

Pruning during Lent

Each year, Ash Wednesday ushers in the season of Lent, a time to prepare for the suffering, death, and resurrection of our Savior. Each year, we are given this season of 40 days to fast and reflect. Baby Ng has made fasting a non-option, so I really want to make sure that I spend the season of Lent reflecting. Reflecting on my relationship with God. Reflecting on my relationship with my family. And reflecting on the ways I have changed over the past years.

When I attended the Relevant Conference in 2010, a statement made by one of the speakers at a break-out session stuck with me, and it's something that I still think of today. Kimba, of A Soft Place to Land, said that when God chooses to prune, He doesn't always take the ugly parts. Sometimes, He prunes the beautiful parts so that something even more beautiful can grow in its place. So, do I think I'm a bad mom? No. Do I think I'm a bad wife? No. Do I think I am failing in my role as a woman? No. But, that doesn't mean that God doesn't intend to do some pruning in those areas. Because, while I may be a good mom, perhaps God is calling me to be a great mom. And while I consider myself a good wife and helpmate to Carey, perhaps God is calling me to be better in certain areas of that relationship. So, with that in mind, there are a few books that I have decided to read during Lent, to help me reflect and grow and aid God in His pruning efforts.

My relationship with Him: the Bible.
I'll be focusing on the Gospels during Lent, concentrating on the teachings of Jesus and how I am called to live those teachings in my life. During the Easter season, I'll move on to the other New Testament books to see how the disciples were affected by Jesus' death and resurrection and how they lived his teachings.

My relationship with Carey: The Power of a Praying Wife, by Stormie Omartian.
The focus of this book is how, as a wife, I can pray for my husband and his needs, and how this type of prayer can powerfully, and positively, impact your marriage.

My relationship with Abby: The Mission of Motherhood, by Sally Clarkson.
Sally was a keynote speaker at last year's Relevant Conference. She was an amazing speaker, and I can only imagine that her book on the importance of motherhood will be just as amazing and inspiring.

My personal reflection: 30 Days to Taming Your Tongue, by Deborah Smith Pegues.
Really, the title says it all. I need to learn to be much more careful with the words that come out of my mouth. Period.

So, these are the books that I'll be concentrating on during my Lenten pruning journey. How will you be observing Lent this year?

Joy

Joy is coming home to find that your husband bought flowers for "his ladies" and that they include both your favorite flower and your daughter's favorite color.

Joy is kissing your daughter and telling her that you love her, and watching her turn her heart-achingly adorable, dimpled smile your way while she says "I love you, too, mommy."

Joy is being pretty sure that you felt your baby kicking you several times over the past few days.

Joy is feeling so overwhelmingly, undeservedly blessed by the exact place that you stand in your life that you can think of nothing to say but "Thank you, Lord."

Christmas Blessings

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests."

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

Luke 2: 4-20 (NIV from Bible Gateway)

Blessings to you and your family as we celebrate this most wonderful day, the birth of our Savior. May we look past the traveling and presents and cookies and realize that the coming of Jesus is the real reason why we celebrate. Merry Christmas!

What I Learned From Pee-Pee in the Tub

Last night was a challenging evening in the Ng house. I was a bit tired and Carey was working late, so it was just us ladies at home. I started cooking dinner as soon as I got home, while Abby enjoyed some fruit snacks and watched Fresh Beat Band on Nick Jr. Dinner was ready at 7:00, so we sat down to eat. And boy oh boy, did Abby take her time. She finally finished at 8:00. That's right folks - it took my child almost an hour to eat. (Talk about chewing each bite 50 times...)

At this point, it was time for a bath. Abby isn't hard to bathe, by any means - as a matter of fact, she loves taking a bath and often asks to take them, even when it's not bath night! I got her undressed, sat her in the tub, and gave her her favorite new bath toy - foam letters and numbers that stick to the sides of the tub when they're wet. Abby was having a great time, picking letters out of the tub and telling me what they were: E for elephant! M for Mommy! J for jungle! Suddenly, she pointed down at the water and, with a huge smile on her face, told me that she'd peed. In the tub. Um, gross.

Honestly, this is only the third or fourth time this has happened. Ever. Abby is normally really good at peeing before she gets into the bathtub. And yet, here I was, with a child sitting in a bunch of pee-pee water. Yuck.

As I mentioned before, I was pretty tired before this whole adventure even began, so I was less than understanding when the whole pee issue happened. I told Abby that Mommy was angry. I told her that she made a mess that Mommy had to clean up. I asked her where we go pee-pee, and when she told me that potty, I told her that she knew better than to go pee in the bathtub. As I pulled all of her toys, including her beloved letters, out of the tub, she began to cry. I snapped that she couldn't play with her toys anymore because they were covered with pee. I cleaned the bathtub, drew her another bath, cleaned her very thoroughly, dried her off, and put on a clean diaper and pajamas. This whole time, I said very little.

After her pajamas were on, I told her that we needed to go back into the bathroom so I could clean her ears and comb her hair. I carried her back into the bathroom, stood her on the counter, cleaned her ears and began to comb her hair. At this point, she looked into the mirror and said: "I so pretty. Fanks, mommy." (Abby can't quite make the "th" sound - thanks and thirsty tend to come out like fanks and firsty.) At this point, I melted. I was reminded that my little girl is just that - a little girl. She is young and makes mistakes and has accidents. Just like I am sure I did when I was little.

God took this beautiful moment, when my little girl thanked me for combing her hair, to remind me of the importance of patience and love when raising my child. I know that there will be more hard days to come - that's par for the course with a toddler. But I don't think that I will ever forget the look of contrition on my daughter's face last night, nor the hug that followed. I definitely said an extra prayer for Abigail last night. Fanks, God.

Two Year Anniversary!

Two years ago, on November 16, 2008, our little girl, my beautiful Abigail, was baptized. It was a blessed day that I am able to remember with smiles and thanksgiving.

Grandma Jadwiga and Mommy, getting Abby ready for her baptism.

However, it is also a day that serves as a constant reminder of the seriousness of the task with which Carey and I have been entrusted. The Lord has given us a beautiful little girl and charged us with her training. We are to teach her love and kindness, obedience and respect. This is no small task, despite the small stature of the little blessing in question. Abigail is in the stage right now where she repeats everything that we say, so we are constantly reminded that our words have a huge effect, and the tone of voice that we use often says more than the words that escape our lips.

So today, on the two-year anniversary of Abigail's baptism, we reconfirm our commitment to our daughter. As we pray every night, may we always strive to raise Abigail to be someone who loves the Lord first and foremost, and who witnesses that love in everything that she does.

(For my reflections on the first anniversary of Abigail's baptism, please click here.)

Unraveled...

There are many dates that have an important significance to us. April 17th - our anniversary. January 21st, August 14th, and September 12th - our birthdays. Earlier this year, we added another date to that list - May 18th. What happened on May 18th, you ask? Unfortunately, unlike the other dates that I listed, May 18th is not remembered with smiles and happy memories. May 18th is a day that will always be remembered with sadness. This is the day we found out that we had lost our second baby.

You may remember from some of my posts in May that Carey and I had some difficult times that we were facing, and, at the time, I didn't want to go into detail about it. As I sit here today, October 15th, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, I realize that I would like to share our story.

At the end of 2009, Carey and I decided that we would like to have another baby. We decided to wait until the start of the new year to begin trying to conceive and were thrilled when we found out in March that we were pregnant.

Just the word we wanted to see!

After our initial appointment with my doctor, we went in at 8 weeks for an ultrasound and saw our beautiful babe. We saw a baby, heard a strong heartbeat, and fell in love all over again. We were so incredibly excited, and I loved that Abigail would point at my growing mid-section and say "baby." (That's right - I had started showing around 6 weeks, making it practically impossible to keep the "good news" from the people who saw me regularly, like family, friends, and co-workers.)

The "belly" at about 9 weeks. (Yes, it was as big as it looks in this photo...)

We bought Abigail an adorable little t-shirt that proclaimed the fact that she was going to be a big sister, and I couldn't wait until she could wear it proudly. I didn't know for sure, but I felt that our little baby was a girl. I looked forward to Abby having the same relationship with her sister that I have with my sister. I imagined two little brown-eyed, dark haired, beautiful girls, and I could feel my heart almost bursting with love for these two precious blessings, one that I see every day and the other who was anxiously awaited.

A mere four weeks after our ultrasound, I went to Huntington Hospital for a first trimester ultrascreen (an ultrasound and blood test). As I sat on the table waiting for the doctor, I couldn't seem to shake a feeling that I'd been having for a few weeks - a feeling that something was "not right." Unlike with Abby, I didn't have morning sickness with this baby. I wasn't tired all the time like I was with Abby. All of the first trimester symptoms that I'd had with Abby were conspicuously absent with this pregnancy. My doctor had told me to be glad that I was feeling so well - "Every pregnancy is different," he said, so I shouldn't worry if my symptoms with baby #1 differed from those with baby #2. All the same, it just didn't feel right.

Well, the doctor came in and began the test. She said very little, and moved quickly from angle to angle. At this point, I knew that something was wrong. She looked at me, sorrow in her face, as she shared the news I had dreaded and half-expected: she could find no heartbeat, there was no fetal movement, and, despite the fact that I was 13 weeks along, the baby barely measured 10 weeks. I was devastated. I could feel my world unraveling as I lay on the table. I was moved to the doctor's office, where I sat and waited for my OB/GYN (who was thankfully on-call and at the hospital that day) to come speak with me. I felt numb. I had dreaded bad news, but a part of me had still hoped that everything would work out for the best. I had hoped to go into work that afternoon with an ultrasound picture of my healthy, active baby. I had expected to share the good news with our family that weekend. And instead, I sat numbly in a chair as my doctor explained to me that I would need to undergo surgery to have my baby removed from my body.

He is with you when your baby's gone,
And your house is still,
And your heart's a stone
Crying God, what'd You do that for?
He is with you.
...
We may weep for a time
But joy will come in the morning, the morning light.
-He Is With You, Mandisa (from the album Freedom)

I somehow made it out to my car, where I completely lost it. As I turned the key in the ignition, the tears began to stream down my face. I called Carey, but was unable to even speak because I was crying so hard. He knew immediately that we'd lost the baby and began to pack up to leave work to come home to me. He called my office to let them know that I wouldn't be in that afternoon. I called my mom, dad and sister, sharing the heart-wrenching news as I arrived at home. I sat on the couch, with my hand on my swollen belly, in disbelief that the being inside of me was no longer alive after we had seen her heartbeat only 4 weeks prior. How did this happen? The doctor could see no visible defects in the ultrasound pictures, so what had happened to my baby? Even worse, I knew that in three days, I would have to check into the hospital to have surgery to remove my baby from my body. Part of me wanted to hold onto my baby, even knowing that she wasn't alive anymore. But another part of me wanted to get "it" out of me as quickly as possible. It was a roller-coaster of emotions, and I had no idea how long the ride was going to be.

Yet I am always with you;
you hold me by my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will take me into glory.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
-Psalm 73: 23-26

I somehow made it through the next few days, thankful for my job, which kept my hands busy and my mind occupied, and thankful for Carey, Abigail, and our family and friends, who showed more support for me than I could have imagined possible. I underwent surgery on May 21st, and had a speedy, full recovery. About 6 weeks after my surgery, I received a telephone call from my doctor letting me know that the results of the genetic testing had come back normal. Just when I thought I was starting to pull it together, I felt it all unravel again. I was furious and confused and hurt and scared. There were no physical abnormalities and there were no major genetic abnormalities. (The doctor did tell Carey that the genetic testing doesn't pick up everything, just the most likely culprits, so it is possible that our baby had a less-common genetic problem that wasn't tested.) I had not realized how much I clung to the hope of having an answer until I wasn't able to get one. Instead of knowing that my baby hadn't survived due to genetic problem A or physical defect B, I found myself back where I started: a lost child, a broken heart, and no hope for an answer. Ever.

Accepting the mystery of what we cannot know will lead us to the heart of God where we trade our craving for explanation for a simple willingness to trust.
-Strong Women, Soft Hearts, Paula Rinehart

Slowly, I felt my unraveling world knitting itself back together. I knew that it would never be the same - my story had changed irrevocably, but it was evolving into something else. I will never understand why God chose for us to be parents to a little babe for 12 short weeks, only to welcome our little angel back into Heaven to be with Him. But I slowly came to realize that it's not my job to understand His ways. Rather, it is my comfort to know that nothing happens without His knowledge and nothing happens without a reason. God is going to use this horrible, painful experience to change my life in some way, and I know that what had been a grief-filled situation will somehow be turned into something of hope and faith and glory.

However easy it may be to allow myself to wail over my loss, it is a far more satisfying thing to believe that all of this is a brief season. The Lord I have placed my trust in tells me that I will see my child again, and while He stands beside me, He weeps. He doesn't weep at the barren ground, nor does He mourn the browning branches. He cries because I can't see what He can. And in the fluttering of the breeze, with my heart pressed to His, I can hear Him whisper, "Spring will come, my love."
-I Will Carry You: The Scared Dance of Grief and Joy, Angie Smith

I'm not there yet. Every day is a work-in-progress, with some days being easier than others. I never knew how many pregnant women there were in New York City until I had lost my baby... And while I am genuinely happy for our friends and family (and even complete strangers) who have given birth to or are carrying their babies, there is still a part of me that wonders why this horrible loss happened to me. It is those times that I remind myself that God did not do this to hurt us. God loves me, God loves Carey, and God loves our little angel baby. So, while I don't understand "why," I do understand His unconditional, unwavering, all-encompassing love. I know that our baby is in the arms of the Being who knew her before she was ever formed and who holds her now when her parents cannot.

It is easy to become disillusioned with the circumstances of our lives compared to other's. But in the presence of God, He gives us a deeper peace and joy that transcends it all.
-Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God, Francis Chan

Our baby was due to join us on November 26th, so I know that the day after Thanksgiving will be a sad day for us this year. But, while I am grieving for what we have lost, I am thankful for what we have. Carey and I have been blessed with a beautiful baby girl who brings us joy and laughter each day of our lives. Carey and I have each other, and this experience has allowed us to comfort each other and strengthen each other and love each other more fully. We have been surrounded by family and friends who offered words of sympathy, support, comfort, and love. We pray that, if it is God's plan for us to have more children, He will allow us to conceive and give birth to a healthy child. But, this experience has also taught us that, if it is God's plan for the Ngs to be a family of three, we are abundantly blessed by our daughter and will live happy in the knowledge that we have a precious angel here on earth to love and care for and a precious angel up in Heaven who is under the loving care of our Heavenly Father.

So, as you go through your day today, please remember the women who have encountered loss. Regardless of the stage when the loss occurred, these women need the prayers and support of those around them to cope with their loss. Pray also for the men and other family members and friends who are affected by such losses. It is estimated that 1 in 5 women will experience a miscarriage at some point in her reproductive life. I never imagined that I would be that 20%, but May 2010 saw us become part of that group. Tonight, we will light a candle at 7:00 pm in honor of our angel. Women and men around the world will be doing the same thing, creating a wave of light that will travel around the world. Would you be willing to light a candle in your home at 7:00 pm, in honor of our baby? In honor of the many babies who are resting safe in the arms of our Heavenly Father instead of the arms of their mommies and daddies? I pray that our little baby will look down and see her mommy, daddy and older sister remembering the brief time that we were a family together here on earth and looking forward to the day when we will be reunited in Heaven.

Words of Comfort

Well, I'm back. My original intention was to take some time off from blogging to work through some of the issues that Carey and I have encountered recently. However, I kept finding myself making notes of stuff I wanted to blog about. I realized that perhaps blogging is going to be one of the things that helps me deal with my pain and move forward in my healing. So, rather than remaining in my self-imposed blogging exile, I'm returning to one of things that brings me joy.

Over the past week, I have found God acting in our lives more than I would have thought possible. And truly, it has been amazing. Rather than feeling angry about the situation and asking why God would allow this to happen to me, I have found great comfort in the knowledge that nothing just "happens." That makes God sound like a passive observer, instead of the author of all things. I don't know why things happen, but that's not my job. It's not my responsibility to try and figure out why something happened or question why it happened to me. Instead, I've found that it is my comfort to know that God has walked with us every step of this journey and has placed so many wonderful people in our lives to wrap us in love and strength and support.

Every day, I receive a daily devotional email from Proverbs 31 Ministries called Encouragement for Today. Last Wednesday, the devotion reflected on Deuteronomy 33:12: Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure, in him, for he shields him all day long, and the one the Lord loves rests between his shoulders. The writer shares the story of losing a treasured possession, but says that the verses that she shares can speak to many types of loss: a relationship, a home, a friend or family member. She shares Psalm 73, Verse 23: Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. She goes on to state that fear and frustration become faith when we recognize God's presence, even in times of hardship and loss. The timing of this devotion was perfect - once again, God was reminding me that He is here with me, walking with us every step of the way, guiding our steps with care and comforting us with His love.

This morning on the train ride into work, I was trying to get caught up on some of my book club reading. The new selection for the Bloom book club is Strong Women, Soft Hearts: A Woman's Guide to Cultivating a Wise Heart and a Passionate Life by Paula Rinehart. In the chapter on Trust, Paula writes: "...accepting the mystery of what we cannot know leads us to the heart of God where we trade our craving for explanation for a simple willingness to trust (page 81). I know that I'm not there yet, but I feel the need for understanding slipping away and being slowly replaced by the willingness to trust in His plan.

Yesterday also saw the arrival of a package that I was eagerly awaiting. You may remember that, at the start of the year, I participated in the Bible in 90 Days Challenge, hosted by Amy at Mom's Toolbox. Amy is planning on hosting the challenge again starting July 5th. Once again, I felt that God was calling me to participate in the challenge and see how reading His Word would affect my life. So, in preparation for taking the challenge again, I ordered a copy of the official Bible in 90 Days NIV Bible, the Participant Guide, and a book entitled The Essential Bible Companion: Key Insights for Reading God's Word. (Please note: none of these purchases were necessary. I completed the challenge earlier this year using just my Bible and a reading schedule that I printed from the Bible in 90 Days website. I just decided that, since I wanted to participate in the challenge again and see what new insights God would be sending my way, I wanted to approach the challenge differently. So, I thought making use of these resources might allow me to reap new benefits from the challenge.) Well, my package arrived yesterday, and I can't wait for July 5th to roll around! I was already cracking open my books last night, despite the fact that it was after midnight and I really should have been sleeping! I can't wait to begin this journey again with the wonderful group of ladies who will be reading along with Amy. Anyone else feeling up to the challenge???

It feels good to be back on the blog. :-) Thank you so much for your continued thoughts and prayers. As I said before, it has become so evident to Carey and I that we are surrounded by amazing people who offer their love, support and prayers so unconditionally that it has made us feel incredibly blessed, even in the face of hardship. I don't think I will ever find the words to tell you how thankful we are...

A Growing List

Every night, before we put our sweet little girl to bed, we say our prayers. Not only is this an important part of our bedtime routine (to little Abigail, prayer time = time for night-night), but it is also important to us that Abigail grow up with God as a vital, constant part of her life. Knowing that our day is not complete until we say our thanks to God is something that Carey and I have been striving to teach Abigail since she was born.

After we say our prayers, we take the time to thank God for special blessings that He has brought into our lives and we ask for His help and guidance with any issues that we encountered during the day. As I stood beside Abigail's crib last night, cuddling with my little munchkin and saying our prayers, I came to realize that our list of "thank yous" has become very long. I am truly humbled by the kindness that God has shown to our family, and I pray that we will always be grateful to Him for his generosity and goodness.

And now, some pictures of a constant reminder of God's generosity and goodness: my little girl.

Abby likes to sit on the edge of the bathtub.And hide behind the shower curtain.:-)

Thankful for Forgiveness

One of the things that I've been coming to terms with lately is forgiveness. I need to be more forgiving to others. I need to be more forgiving to myself. I need to learn how to accept forgiveness. And frankly, it's hard.

It's hard to swallow my pride and apologize. It's hard to be the person to admit that I was wrong or misinformed or that I over-reacted. It's hard to look at myself and my actions and realize that the same things tend to trip me up, time and again. And it's hard to understand why God would continue to forgive me and love me in spite of my frailty and weakness and sinfulness.

On Wednesday night, I had an amazing reconciliation experience at my church. I had a discussion with one of our parish priests, and I walked away with a new openness in my heart - an openness to accepting God's forgiveness. Father James suggested that I read the Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke, Chapter 15). But, instead of looking at it from the point of view of the younger son, he suggested that I look at it from the point of view of the father. I used to view the parable from the perspective of the older son - in my mind, he was right in his indignation. Why should his brother be given such a warm welcome after squandering so much of his father's hard-earned gains? Why should the younger brother have a new robe and the fattened calf when the older son wasn't given so much as a goat to eat with his friends? The older son's reaction made sense to me. But, then I revisited forgiveness.

The father was forgiving. He was so happy to see his youngest son alive that what had happened in the interim didn't make a difference. He was filled with such joy at his son's return that he didn't care how he'd spent his inheritance. The father rejoiced at the sight of his son. God does that with us. Every single time we turn away from him, whether through sin, neglect, or ignorance, God welcomes us back with the kind of joy with which the father welcomes home the prodigal son. God is happy to have us back. When we approach him with sorrow in our hearts, he welcomes us back with tears of joy and professions of love and promises of support. Rather than dwelling on our sinfulness and all the things that filled our life during those "dark moments," God is so happy to have us back that he just doesn't care. Obviously, he doesn't want us to sin. But when we approach him with genuine repentance and ask for His forgiveness, He is joyful.

Of course, the doubt always creeps in that I am wholly unworthy of God's forgiveness and mercy and love. This is when it is important to not only learn how to forgive, but also how to be accepting of forgiveness. I'm not worthy. Nothing I do could make me worthy. But, by the grace of God, I am able to accept that I have been forgiven. And that, friends, is a powerful feeling.

So, here we are on Good Friday. Today, we remember the fact that Jesus died for us, for all of us, so that we could be forgiven. So that our sinfulness could be washed away and we could return to God, like the prodigal son, with repentance in our heart and know that He will forgive us again. Always.

Praying for Patience

Each year at Lent, our Church makes available small, softcover books filled with Scripture passages, reflections, and prayers for each day of the Lenten season. This year's guide is entitled "Called to be Holy!"

Today's reflection is "With Patient Love." It talks about the fact that following Jesus is not an easy task, but "To be truly patient is to take up the cross daily as we try to act as Jesus did."

I am not good with patience. I was impatient as Carey and I waited for Abigail to arrive. I am impatient whenever Abigail is sick and I want her to be better right now. I am impatient when it seems that people I deal with at work are not listening or being cooperative. I am impatient when the Long Island Railroad is behind schedule. (Again.) I am impatient as I wait for God to bless us with another child. Yes, it seems like my life is just a whole lot of impatience at times.

There's a saying that I remember hearing when I was still in college: If you ask God for patience, He'll just make you wait. Unfortunately for me, while God knows exactly what I need, I also think that I know what I need. I pray for patience and thank God for having a plan for me, all the while hoping that God's plan for me looks a lot like my plan for me. Well, the joke is on me, isn't it? I have absolutely no idea what God has in store for me - His ways are beyond my comprehension and His plans are beyond my understanding. What I do know, however, is that God loves me and that He does have a plan for me. He does know what I need and will give it to me in His own time.

During Lent this year, I will do my best to "Let go and let God." I will challenge myself to act with patience and understanding, and I will trust Him to guide me and help me with the things that are beyond my control and understanding. As was written in today's prayer from "Called to be Holy!":

I want to follow you this day by responding to whatever happens to me with patient love. Amen.

Thankful for Lent. Again.

You might remember this post from last year. I tried to look at Lent in a new way - to be thankful for the time I was given to prepare myself for the mystery of Easter and to use the talents that I was given to better myself as a wife, mother, friend and child of God.

If you read my blog (especially if you check in on Fridays), you know that I am currently participating in the Bible in 90 Days Challenge. Following a set schedule, I will read through the entire Bible in 90 days. I am on schedule with my readings - today is Day 48, so I am more than halfway through.

For the past few days, I've been thinking a lot about Lent. I've looked at my thoughts from last year, as well as several other posts that I have written since then. I knew that God was calling me to really challenge myself during this upcoming Lenten season, but I wasn't quite sure how. Then I read Proverbs.

He who guards his mouth protects his life;
to open wide one's lips brings downfall. (Pro 13:3)

What's that? Are you talking to me, God?

The tongue of a wise man pours out knowledge,
but the mouth of fools spurts forth folly. (Pro 15:2)

Folly? Really, Lord? Well, I guess that I would prefer to be wise than foolish...

The just man weighs well his utterance,
but the mouth of the wicked pours out evil. (Pro 15:28)

Pours out evil? Am I pouring out evil?

Pleasing words are a honeycomb,
sweet to the taste and healthful to the body. (Pro 16:24)

Sweet and healthy? That sounds much better than pouring out evil, doesn't it?

It is good sense in a man to be slow to anger,
and it is his glory to overlook an offense. (Pro 19:11)

Lord, I'm beginning to think that you're trying to tell me something...

He who guards his mouth and his tongue
keeps himself from trouble. (Pro 21: 23)

I think I get where you're going with this God. But it's going to be pretty hard, isn't it?

The fool gives vent to all his anger;
but by biding his time, the wise man calms it. (Pro 29:11)

So, after re-reading some of these verses, I realized that God was indeed challenging me. He wants me to watch my words. He wants the utterances of my mouth to be sweet and pleasing to Him, and He wants my words to show wisdom and bring calm.

Let me be honest here for a minute: I am not a naturally calm person. I get upset. I fume. I complain. Sometimes I even yell and (goodness gracious) have been know to use a choice word or two in extreme situations. It is at these times that my mouth is pouring out evil. It is at these times that I am a fool. And frankly, upon reflection, these foolish times happen more often than I'd like to admit. When I am at work, I vent my frustrations to co-workers who listen and commiserate. But, do I really want to be "that person"? Do I want to be the person at work who loses my temper and complains about this, that, or the other thing? No, I don't. I want my words to bring comfort and joy to those around me. I want to control my anger and frustration, rather than vent it out and apologize for that venting later.

So, for Lent this year, I am giving up complaining and gossiping. I want to be a wife who offers words of comfort and love during the time I spend with my husband. I want to be a mother who shows my daughter, through my words and the tone of my voice, that I love her, and that if I do need to correct her behavior, it is out of love for her, concern for her safety, and a desire that she grows into a kind, caring, loving, wise individual. I want to be the person at work who brings calm, joy, and assistance to those around me.

This won't be easy. As someone who feels the need to "vent" often and loudly, I will need to check myself before the evil pours from my mouth. As I walked from the subway station to my office this morning, I asked God for His help. I am imperfect and weak, and this task will be hard for me. I asked Him for guidance, for assistance, and, when I fail, for forgiveness. It is my fervent prayer that challenging myself to improve the words that come out of my mouth will also improve the thoughts of my heart. You see, I haven't forgotten this post, when I quoted a line from Crazy Love by Francis Chan: "The point of your life is to point to Him." Lent is a time to re-evaluate, to re-prioritize, and to make changes to ensure that your life is bringing Him glory.

May you all have a reflective, prayerful, blessed Lenten season!

Reflections on Motherhood

Today is a very special day for two very important reasons.

Today is the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of Mary. As I sat in Mass earlier today, I heard the Gospel reading in which the Angel Gabriel announces to Mary that she will miraculously conceive a son. But not just any son, The Son. Mary was scared. (In fact, I'd go so far as to say that she was probably terrified. Pregnancy out of wedlock was just "not done" back then.) But, do you know what her response was? "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word." (Luke 1:38) Wow.

How many times, when I have been faced with difficulty in my life, have I simply lifted my eyes to heaven and said "Lord, may it be done to me according to your will." Honestly, I can't think of many. More often, I find myself wondering why God's will is so different from mine. What an amazing example of motherhood - Mary, scared and alone, knew that God would care for her and for His Son. "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word." Amen to that.

In addition to reflecting on the example of motherhood and faith as exemplified by Mary, there is another example of motherhood and faith that is important to me today. Today, my Grammy Kowalczyk turns 94. My Grammy has lived an amazing life, and I am truly blessed to have so many wonderful memories with her. Now, I look at the pictures of Abigail with her Great Grandma, and I know that she, too, is blessed to know this feisty little Polish woman who shows everyone how to live a life filled with love for God and for family. May God bless Maria Kowalczyk today, on her 94th birthday. While we're not there yet, the Ngs will be in Bergen very soon and can't wait to give birthday hugs to the cutest little Grammy (and Great Grammy) ever!

So, today I am inspired. I am inspired by Mary, the Mother of God. I am inspired by her willingness to trust in God's plan. And I am inspired by my Grammy. I am inspired by her faith and her life and, yes, her willingness to also trust in God's plan. Two amazing examples of motherhood to inspire me today and all days.