Just in case anyone asks

Years have a way of flying by...

Yesterday, I stood on the sidelines of a football field and watched my two sons perform in an award-winning marching band program.

As I looked at their handsome faces, I saw disciplined concentration, focusing solely on their performance.
As I watched the band move across the field, I saw my sons balance on tip-toe, perform ballet moves, twist and turn, march backwards, and reverse directions in split-seconds.
For the duration of their presentation, I watched them hold instruments steady in an upright, level position for 10 long minutes as they entered the field, performed, and exited.
And the whole time, I thought to myself... wasn't it yesterday they were babies?

I suppose you could say, I saw the same things every parent saw: Children who are growing up, working towards a cause, performing as a team.

But for me, each and every single performance, each practice, each bus ride, each time my children are included in an activity, I also see God's miracles at work.

I stand there and watch my sons, and in the back of my mind, I see -- can't help but see -- two young boys who had so much against them. I see the young 3 year old, running through the apartment, babbling in some mix of Romanian and English, smiling at me as he emptied the Pampers box and laid his diapers out in designs on the carpet. I see the 3 year old who couldn't distinguish right from left, who had limited upper body strength (because he never crawled), and who had only known hunger and survival, and who was kicked out of preschool because of his energy level. And then I see him surrounded by peers who support him, who have helped him bring out his best efforts. And I see him marching proudly with that heavy barritone, blowing for all he's worth. And I see God.

I look at my tall, freshman son, playing his clarinet, marching on tip-toe, leaning forward and back. I watch his fingers fly across those keys as he works through a trilly passage. I am so proud, and thankful, because I also see a 17 month old baby who could not stand the feel of water on his skin, who screamed like a banshee when I tried to bathe him.(He had never had a bath). I see a boy who could not walk or run without falling. I see a child who did not speak. And I think of an Occupational Therapist who gently said, "You know he's autistic, too?"

These images flash in front of me as I wait for the performance to start. And then I push those memories to the side, and I watch my sons on the field... and I see miracles, and I am greatly humbled.


It is not for us to know God's purpose or His plan. I struggled with infertility for countless years. And God plucked two boys out of orphanages on the other side of the globe and matched them with this crazy old woman. Why? I can not say. But if we are able to glorify God and be a testimony to His glory and good works, than that is more than enough for me.

The next time someone asks you, "Have you seen God at work in your life today?" please share your miracles! If I am asked, I will gaze with love at two teenage boys, and tell you, "I see Him at work every single day."

Reflections on a Band Parent's Rookie Year

The only mementos of my high school band years are an old letterman's jacket, a baton, and some yearbook pictures. Somewhere along the way, I got rid of my rifles and flag pole, but the memories -- they remain. I loved it all: the sweat, the tears, the losses, and the triumphs. But time marches on, and in this chapter of my life, I'm a high school band Parent. If life unfolds as expected, I'll be one for four more years.

I really thought I had a good handle on things, certainly knew why I wanted my sons to be in marching band, but I didn't realize how much I would learn in my Rookie Year as a band parent.

* I can never say "Thank You" enough to my own parents. They were there to drop me off and pick me up, at all hours. They encouraged me, they sent in money they didn't have, let me go to band camps to refine my skills, made me practice for hours, sat in cold bleachers and under a hot sun... simply and profoundly, just because they loved me. I took this for granted as a child, now it humbles me.

* This isn't your Mama's band. Gone are the days when students packed a sack lunch, loaded equipment on school buses and went off to competitions. Bands roll with 18-wheelers hauling equipment, and parents hauling trailers. Shows are now full-fledged productions with giant backdrops and assorted props. Parents are setting up tents, generators, and grills at competitions to feed children. They haul countless coolers of bottled water and gatorade. They set up satellite tv so the band dads (eh, everyone watches) can watch football scores between performances. We're a mini hard-ware store: hammers and wrenches, duct tape, bungee cords, and velcro. "Do we have more zip ties?" 

* Don't be afraid of the rookie mistake. Understand it, embrace it -- You're a rookie and there's a lot to learn. When you have to work the concession stand the first time, volunteer to be a runner, don't go straight to grilling. Ladies, forget fashion, dress comfortable at the competitions. Pack an extra jacket. If you're wondering "How can I help?"  don't be shy. Pitch in, and keep pitching in. Pick up trash, run errands, and learn. Let the other parents know you care and are going to be around a while... they will really appreciate your help because we need more parents involved. Bands can not function without a good band boosters program! This year - rookie, next year - grilling.

* I never realized how much my band director did for me. I didn't realize it when I was in school, but band directors are truly a very special breed of teacher. Who among us but the most devoted would take a couple hundred teenagers and teach them how to achieve a goal greater than themselves? Who would give up their weekends, summer evenings, and family time so they can teach our children how to bring out their best efforts? Who does not give up, even when students want to give up on themselves? Who helps us teach responsibility and hard work ethic to our children? Who is self-less enough to put up with the assorted concerns of the parents of a couple hundred teenagers? Go tell your band director "thank you"... then do it again.

* You're not the only one. You're not the only strict parent. You're not the only parent who still teaches values and morals. You're not the only parent who cares about your children. You're not the only parent who worries about their children. You're not the only parent who is proud of your child. You're not the only parent who wonders how they're going to pay for things. You're not the only one worried about sending them far away for camp. You're not the only parent who wants something better for their child. And for some of us: You're not the only single parent... It takes a little time, but as you meet other band parents, you find out: You're not the only one, and you're not alone.

* God is alive and at work in all of our children. They might not even realize it, but every day our children demonstrate His love in their actions. They demonstrate His love when they help a younger band student learn how to fold their jacket, when they give pep-talks and encouragement. His grace is apparent when they defend one another, speaking up for those who can not speak up for themselves. They demonstrate His care when they give of themselves. When their band-mate is thirsty, they give them drink. ("Did you get some water?") When they're hungry, they make sure they eat. ("My mom sent pop-tarts, who wants some?") God's unity is alive when students gather to pray before performance, and when they give thanks afterwards. 

In these band students, and their families, I see displays of God's love everyday. Unexpectedly, but powerfully, my rookie year has been a lesson in hope!