Three Times I Mom-Voiced God

Two years is a long time to go between updates. I know this. And, well, I don't have a good excuse.

In that time, I have found out that my esophagus issues have a name! Esophagitis. It's basically an inflammation of the esophagus caused by an allergic reaction to... something. So I went through the allergy testing and while we never did find out what is causing the esophagitis, I did find out I'm allergic to carrots and maple. So goodbye forever, maple-glazed carrots.

Also Ben got a huge raise and I got to quit my job and become a stay-at-home mom. Which has been really awesome.

Anyhow, the point of this post has to do with my walk with God, and three specific times I drew closer to Him while using the Mom-Voice on him.

Anyone with kids knows what the Mom-Voice is. It's that tone of voice you use when your kids are really getting on your last good nerve. "Allyson Joy, you'd better knock it off or I swear to you I will sell you for a cornchip." (Is something I have never said. Okay, maybe I have.)

You've used it on your kids. You have probably used it on other peoples' kids. (I became infamous for it at last year's Vacation Bible School - you know, when we were all still allowed out in public.) You've used it on your husbands, and if you tell me you haven't you're a liar, probably.

But have you ever Mom-voiced God?

I have.

The first time was early January 2008. I had just found out I was pregnant the day after Christmas. Ben and I had been married for five and a half years at that point, and were actively trying for a baby for four of them. I had all but given up when I came down with what I thought was a particularly nasty, lengthy flu bug. A few days after the doctor confirmed it, I started bleeding. The OB said that some light spotting would be normal.

I was not "lightly spotting." I was bleeding. If I hadn't known I was pregnant, I would've thought I was on my period. So, barely a mother, I pulled out the Mom-Voice. "Are you kidding me?" I remember saying. "I finally get to have a baby, and now you're just gonna... take it away from me? You cannot be serious right now."

But God, as He does, was very patient with me. After the initial scolding I prayed to Him - please help me, please help keep my baby safe. I felt this overwhelming sense of peace afterwards, almost as if I could just barely hear someone say, "Nothing is going to happen to you or your baby. You'll both be fine."

And He was right. Soon after, I stopped bleeding. The OB was amazed - "you should not still be pregnant right now," he said. "But, uh, everything looks good."  And except for a bout of preeclampsia at the tail-end, the pregnancy progressed normally and the child they feared lost will be 12 years old in two months' time.

The second time was spring 2017. Allyson was in third grade. She'd always had some trouble paying attention in school, but her teachers always shrugged it off to immaturity (she is one of the youngest kids in her grade) and age. They all reassured us she'd grow out of it. When she got to third grade her teacher called a special conference with us and, once again, talked of her problems with her attention span. We asked her the same question we'd asked her previous teachers - "Do you think she'll grow out of it."

She looked right at us and said, "No. I don't. Look, my daughter has ADHD and Allyson has some of the same behaviors she did when she was diagnosed. You may want to have her tested, just to see."

So we had her tested. And sure enough... she has ADHD.

The day we found out, she had a Girl Scout meeting right after her appointment. "So I have ADHD?" she asked.

"Yeah, kiddo."

"Huh. Okay." And out of the car and to her meeting she went.

I pulled into a parking spot as far away from the door of the church where her meetings were as I could, parked the car, and sobbed. And then... out came the Mom-Voice.

"Are you serious right now?" I yelled. "I pray for this kid, I almost lose her at the beginning, you finally let me keep her and... and now she's broken?"

Almost immediately I could hear, just faintly: "She's not broken. I picked you to be her mother for a reason."

Now what that reason was, I didn't see at the time. But He was right. God makes us in His image, and He chooses our parents for a reason.  I knew that I had to take a deep breath, pull myself together, and ask God to help me parent this precious little girl. And besides, it didn't seem to be bothering her. You know, the person who was actually diagnosed with it? So why should it bother me?

It hasn't been without its speed bumps. But with the right medication and some gentle reminders she's thriving. All A's and B's in school, she's got lots of friends and she's super caring and generous (and super goofy). She's an excellent guitar player and she's very social (so of course all this quarantine is bugging her). Allyson is a good kid, and with God's help I am being the best mom I can be for her.

the third time? November 2019. I had been feeling... well, off. I'd always been a worrier. It was a common joke in my friend group: "If you have anything to worry about, just tell Kris about it. She'll worry so you don't have to!" I come from a long line of worriers. It was just the way I was.

But it had gotten even worse. I wasn't sleeping, because I was up all night worrying and thinking and worrying about thinking. I was just unbearably sad about everything, too. I hid it well, because I didn't want people to worry about me.

It hit me one day: I don't have to live like this. I don't have to be this way.

So I talked to my doctor and was diagnosed as having mild depression and moderate-to-severe anxiety. Well, okay. I officially knew what was wrong with me. I should have been relieved, right?

But, nope. I sat there, in the parking lot, and trotted out the Mom Voice again. I just looked up and said: "Really? Really?!" And, as per my nature, I worried. I worried about how I was going to tell Ben, what he would think of me for having a broken brain. What Ally would think of me, what kind of parent I would be with this diagnosis.

I drove home, and past my church. There at the corner where my church sat, God spoke to me.

I've got this, He said. Give me your worries, you'll be okay.

And it took a little time - and medication, and therapy, and lots of prayer, but: I think I'm okay.  I feel better than I have in a long time. My relationship with God is better than ever.

There's one thing I've learned, and it's that God wants you to turn to Him. You can use the Mom-Voice if it makes you feel better, but He loves you and wants the best for you and cares for you.

I still have a ways to go, but: I'm okay. Finally.