Today I'm joining hundreds of other writers to write for five minutes flat about one word. No hyper-editting. No backtracking. Loving and encouraging your fellow writers. Won't you join us over here? Today's word: mighty Nothing makes this mama of two boys feel more inadequate than when five o' clock rolls around, I'm trying to make dinner while the kids are fighting in the next room, and I'm wondering why on earth I didn't order a pizza for dinner. I think how calm and peaceful of a person I was less than an hour ago, and somehow all of that collectedness flew out the window as soon as my five-year-old jumped into the car at the bus stop and immediately began antagonizing his younger brother. Why did I think I was qualified to raise these children who send me over the edge of my sanity faster than the blink of an eye? Where was this temper than rages within me when I was in my twenties? As I stand here and try to dodge grease splattering from the skillet while at the same time trying not to trip over my toddler who refuses to stay out of the kitchen for more than thirty seconds. In those nano-moments between the yelling and the tattling and the tripping over small feet, I say the only name that can make me mighty when I am weak. When I am failing. Jesus. It's all I have time to say but it's all I need. He gives me the grace that I so desperately lack. He fills in the spaces when I wonder if I'll make it until bedtime. He is my mighty warrior in the battlefield of my life filled with calls of "mama" when all I want to do is lay my head down on the pillow. And even though order is not restored I somehow manage to get food on the plates while the kids are still alive. He's my power in the midst of the chaos.
Today I am using my blog to do something I've never done before: to promote another blogger's book. Lisa-Jo Baker is the creator of one of my favorite websites, and has just authored her first memoir, which will be released April 1.
Although I've only read the first three chapters, I can already tell this is going to be an awesome piece. What I love about Lisa-Jo is that her writing is in no way pretentious or self-important. She has an uncanny way of cheering mothers on while at the same time being completely, inextricably real. While taking in first part of the book, I laughed, cried, and nodded my head in agreement, sometimes all within the same page. If you are looking for a book about how to be the perfect parent, or a step-by-step guide to raising godly children who obey all the rules, then this book is not for you. But if you are looking for writing that is authentic and genuine, which will remind you of the glories of motherhood without trying to blanket the trials and tears, join me and the hundreds of others who have already pre-ordered their copy of this spring-summer read. You can pre-order yours right here.
There is a phrase I often hear come out of the mouths of moms. "I wish there were more hours in the day." Or, "I wish I had more time…" I've muttered something similar more times than I can count, and often find myself looking at the clock wondering where the day has gone. Sometimes I am delighted at the fact that it is almost eight-o-clock, because I know that the kids will soon be in bed and I'll get a few minutes to unwind and talk to my husband before laying my exhausted head on the pillow. Other times I wonder how I'm going to get everything I need to get done before eventually passing out.
Time. It is a precious commodity. And yet so often we feel as though we waste it or wonder where it all went. As a stay-at-home mom, time is the resource I have the most difficult time managing. Or am I just being too hard on myself? Over the course of the past several years since having children, I've pondered this question and there are a few things I've learned.
Make a to-do list if it helps you, but don't let it define you. Often I get half way through my day and feel as though I've accomplished nothing, when in fact I've gotten a lot done. I've made my kids' breakfast, helped them get dressed, packed my oldest son's lunch, started a load of laundry, and so on, but somehow I think I should have done more. Having a list, even if simply for the sake of checking things off, can give me a visual picture of everything I've achieved. However, if I beat myself up because I haven't finished all the items listed at the end of the day, I need a reminder that raising kids requires grace, both for myself and my children. Spending a few extra minutes to help my child understand his homework is more important than the dirty dishes in the sink.
Making memories is more valuable than having a spotless house. I am a tad OCD when it comes to clutter. But having kids has loosened me up and made me realize that my kids need a space to have their toys strewn everywhere without me interfering with their fun. And when my son asks me to play Legos with him? That is more important than the clothes which need to be folded. These days are limited, and there will come a time when he's not asking me to play with him anymore. Legos may not be my favorite pastime, but I can do a pretty mean Lego Batman voice and make my son giggle until my heart swells.
There are moments in your day you don't want to rush. Time with God. Time with you kids. Time with people who matter. There was a recent quote from a blog I follow that really stuck with me. God doesn't ever say, "Hurry up and come to me." He doesn't speak to me when I'm rushed or constantly looking at the clock. He speaks to me when I'm quiet. When I'm still. In the same way, my son often needs a few minutes to collect his thoughts and tell me what he needs to say. If my attitude is rushed and anxious, I will not hear it. And if I don't listen to my son at five, he's less likely to talk to me at ten or twelve or sixteen.
I also relish the hours I spend with my husband, extended family, and friends as well, and never want them to feel as though the time I spend with them is unimportant. If needed, I schedule it. I am intentional about clearing a space when, even if my kids are with me, I can enjoy their company without worrying about the need to do something or be somewhere else.
A busy life does not equal a fulfilled life. The older my children get, the more packed our schedule becomes. Between church and school activities and sports and extra curricular interests, the calendar is often filled before the month even begins. However, I've learned that we need at least a day here and there to simply do nothing. Sometimes "nothing" may mean watching movies all day with my family. Or playing at the park. But the schedule is clear for whatever we decide to do on that given day. I've met families who barely have time to breathe before their next dinner or outing or event. And they are not happy. They are exhausted.
As I look back on the years I've spent on this earth, the glimpses that stand out the most are the ones where I was loving the people I've been blessed to have in my life, and loving them well. Responsibilities and deadlines will never cease in this lifetime, but I don't want to forget to make memories that pass beyond the present. God, help me to remember the things that last. To look ahead.
It's Friday. Where hundreds of writers come together every week over at the lovelyLisa-Jo Baker's blog to spend five minutes writing about one thing. One word. No hyper-editing. No getting in your own way. Just writing, flat out. The most important rule: encourage the writer who linked up before you. Won't you join us?
Today's word: small
GO:
It is a lie that so many mothers feel victim to believing. That our efforts are small. Our work, our day to day life, the difference we make in the bigger picture of this world we call home. Our wiping of baby bottoms, drying up tears, cleaning messes and preparing lunches. Does anyone notice? Is what we're doing making an impact?
Somewhere, in the moments between getting my son on the bus and chasing my two-year-old away from another dog bowl mess, I find a piece of quiet. And it is in those cleansing moments that I sense the Spirit speaking to me in that still voice. So gentle, so patient. Never rushed. Never weary.
It all matters. I am shaping tiny souls for Him, through Him. With his grace.
It matters because of the Love I hold deep within me, that I pray everyday radiates through the clay that God is shaping day by day, hour by hour. Sometimes in ways I don't understand just yet. Other times with revelation I didn't know possible.
But each step toward Him, toward my ultimate destination is one of glory. His glory. Not my own. He keeps me from knowing the full extent to which I reflect Him at times to keep me humble.
May His essence radiate from me more fully each day. May the small light that is my life shine more and more.
My five-year-old and I snuggled on the couch a few nights ago as I sat listening to him read his bedtime story. I was so gratified. So filled with pride. But more than that, he was proud of himself. We've been reading one page a night for several weeks now and have almost reached the end. He sounds out each syllable and puts it together as I smile cheer him on and think to myself how big my boy has gotten. I close my eyes and think how far Chris and I have come on this journey called parenthood, with all it's ups, downs, twists and turns.
Looking back on that evening I realize it's a beautiful illustration of a lesson I'm learning. Day by day, moment by moment. I have to let my kids be free to fail. To struggle. To learn things for themselves. To see me fail and no it's okay. For weeks, when we presented Jaden with a new book he wasn't familiar with he'd say, "I can't read that. It's to hard." We'd push and encourage him to try, until we eventually caved and either picked another book or read the more difficult one to him ourselves.
But what do these actions teach our son? When something is difficult to walk away? To never try anything you're afraid might be too hard? No, this is not the kind of message I want to send to our kids. So finally one night, we sat and we made it through one page. And then another and another. One step at a time.
To see the look of sheer joy and fulfillment on my son's face afterwards was more reward than I could ever need.
I know not every battle will be as simple as making my child read a book. There will be times when I need to step in and fight for him, and situations he's not equipped to handle yet. But there will also be times when I have to let him grapple. To fall to brush himself off, and to get back up again. Sometimes only to fall again. Because these trials are part of growing up. Of learning to stand on your own.
Watching my sons struggle is one of the hardest parts of being a mother, because my maternal instinct begs me to swoop in, do the hard stuff for them, and make everything better. But if I'm constantly doing all the difficult things for my children, they will likely grow up thinking they can't do anything for themselves.
I want to raise boys who are confident in their God-given abilities, not boys who are afraid to try.
God, give me the wisdom to know when I need to put on my lioness suit, sweep in and save the day, and when I need to back off. Help me to raise children who are not afraid of failure, because failure is part of growth. May they become strong men of faith, sharing your love without fear of timidity. Amen.
"'See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in Heaven." Matthew 18:10
My mom is on a purge cycle that has lasted for the past few, oh I don't know, years? She likes to go through their attic and mail me her findings from my school years. Most of the things she sends me I look at, think, "Why?" and throw in the trash. Moving as much as we have over the past six years does that to you. However, several months ago I made my trip to the mailbox and discovered this little treasure, which I wrote circa 1992.
So I was 13 years old. And apparently unimpressed with the church service which was taking place while I scrawled it out on the back of their bulletin.
I chuckled off and on for the better part of the afternoon after receiving this poem, which my mom had saved all these years.
It made me think about church, faith, and even after decades have passed, the boredom can still seep in if I allow it. My spiritual life can become as dead as the leaves lying under the six inches of snow in our back yard if I am not constantly stimulating that muscle, that need, that ever thirsty, never satisfied taste for living water.
Sometimes I feel as though I'm waiting for that next "big" thing to happen. That next milestone or move or valley or opportunity. I become restless, searching for the next door or window, only to find it isn't there. But the great cost in living this way, in feeling this constant internal turmoil is that I miss the grand moments that are happening right there in front of me. Tiny miracles. A sunrise over a fresh blanket of snow. A new word or phrase from my two-year-old. A question from my oldest son which needs a well thought out answer instead of being brushed off.
Cuddling with my little ones on the couch and chasing them around the play hut as they play hide and seek? That's important. Making sure my son understands his homework? It matters.
Today, after being stuck in the house for the better part of three days between sickness, snow days and school cancellations, we went to Chick-fil-a for lunch. Although it was blistering cold out, the sun was shining the the fresh snow, the sky was a clear blue, and a beautiful day for a drive. On the way home, Jaden requested to ride on the "bumpy road." An unpaved, dirt road which is haphazardly placed between our road and one which runs parallel to ours. My kids love it. So as we're bouncing around, putting all of our SUV's four-wheel drive capability to the test, I let myself soak it the joy of this little fragment.
In this life, we will never fully "arrive." We aren't satisfied because we are eternal beings, our souls ever aching, always hungering for our Father and home is in Heaven. That next "like," next hit, next trip or pair of shoes or event? It will come and pass, but we'll still be craving more. In the same way, as followers of Jesus, our journey to become more like him never ends. There's always another step, another leap, another leg of the race. He is the only One that can truly satisfy, but that the same time we must constantly refill our cup until we reach our everlasting destiny.
There are seasons when we need to act, to move, and moments when we simply need to be still. To listen. To wait. Oh God, do I loathe waiting. Ironically, one of my favorite verses in Scripture is Psalm 46:10, "Be still, and know that I am God." Perhaps because so often I cling to those words, knowing they will quiet my spirit, even if just for a little while.
God, give me the wisdom to know the difference. To not look down at my pedometer and see that I've taken twenty steps when you prompted me to take one. Help me not to become spiritually vapid during the stillness but ever anticipating, ever hungry, ever yearning for You.
As I wait on God, I am comforted by these words from Sidewalk Prophets. I hope for anyone else out there who is feeling restless, they give you peace as well.
"Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." Psalm 27:14
I lost count of the number of unfinished books I have sitting on the shelves and in the library tab of my Nook. Oh, I've finished plenty at some point or another. But it's crazy to think of how many I've opened, excited by the smell of the newness of it or the title glowing on the tablet, only to put it down several weeks later and leave untouched for months or even years. There are so many aspects of life where this habit is easy to fall into. Our health. Our fitness. Our finances. Our relationship with God. We think that our in our inertia, something will change despite our lack of effort and unwillingness to act. I'll quit smoking after I have one more cigarette. I'll start my new exercise regimen right after I eat this donut and watch Grey's Anatomy. I'll talk to my kids about Jesus as soon as I read this article about how to talk to my kids about Jesus. That last one? Me. Guilty. It's not that I don't share. But I sometimes I hesitate or stumble over my words. It's awkward when I feel as though it should be easy. You see, and I'm going to be completely honest here, when it comes to sharing the Gospel with my kids, I often struggle. I overcomplicate it. I confuse even myself. There may be some moms out there who have it all figured out and impart the greatest news of all eternity to their children with grace and ease, but me? I'm not one of them. Maybe it's because to me, telling my kids about my Savior is one of the most important things I could ever do, and I don't want to mess it up. And seeing my kids follow Jesus is my life's greatest desire.
Let me just interject here and say I know it is not up to me. That it will be the act of faith my children take and the grace of God that saves them. Not me, certainly not me. But do I believe I play an oh so important role? Absolutely. One fact I've learned about kids: Kids are simple. They haven't taken philosophy 101 and will not bombard you with questions about why God allows bad things to happen to "good" people. Kids, at least at my boys' ages, believe because you believe. And while I know it will not always be this uncomplicated, at this stage in their lives I need to embrace where they are. Having discovered that, I found a series of books that Chris and I began reading several months ago with Jaden which he absolutely loves: The Hermie the Caterpillar books by Max Lucado. I discovered Lucado's adult writings a few years ago and have grown leaps and bounds in my walk with Jesus as a result of them, but I recently found that he also has books for children. The Hermie series does an amazing job of explaining prayer, forgiveness, and growing into the unique person God created you to be. When we first started going through these books with Jaden, he wanted to read them every night.
I also found a great children's devotion, which is a little above Gabe's level but is perfect for Jaden: Five Minute Devotions for Children by Pamela Kennedy. It is filled with beautiful watercolor pictures and draws parallels between various animals and the way God cares for each of us.
Another hard lesson I've learned: comparing my kid's spiritual walk to other kids, or whatever I perceive theirs to be will not only drive me nuts, but will not accomplish anything. When I see another mom post on Facebook that her four-year-old just accepted Jesus as her Lord and Savior I think, "That's wonderful. Beautiful." I really, honestly do. But I also wonder, "Am I missing something here? Is there something I should be doing that I'm not?" Then I remember, that with all the moms and dads God could have chosen to parent our two amazing boys, he chose us. He chose us for a reason. Our kids are as special and unique as the fingerprints their messy hands leave all over the house. They, through their own act of free will, will make the decision to follow Jesus in their own time. I believe it. I trust it to be so. Lastly, if we earnestly seek God's help in our parenting, He will give it. He will give it abundantly. If we need encouragement and reassurance, He will give it freely. A few weeks ago I was beating myself up about all of the aforementioned things, and my boys left for a couple of days with the grandparents to give Mom and Dad some much needed alone time. When they returned, we were refreshed, missed them terribly, and after showering them with hugs and kisses sat down to dinner with family, which included two of their cousins. One of them suddenly says excitedly, "Can we say the grace?! Can we say the grace?!" And then I realized my little Jaden was saying the dinner prayer with them while he was away. And they were joyous about it. It was just what I needed at that moment in time to say, "Keep going. You've got this." It was huge. With any aspect of my life, if I want to see growth I have to act. I have to be intentional. And my kids? Well, if I'm not talking about Jesus then chances are they aren't going to be either. I can take them to church, AWANA, Sunday school and the like and all of those activities are time well spent. But the people my kids look to at this oh so important, fleeting stage in life for the answers, the lessons, the grace and the discipline are their parents. God has carried me this far, and I know He will be just and faithful to guide my steps on the journey ahead. I cannot do it on my own, but with His strength lifting me up, all things are possible. Things beyond my wildest imagination. "Come to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know." Jeremiah 33:3
As the holiday season approaches, it can be easy to get lost in the clamor of finding the right gift for everyone on your list. I remember when I was little, it used to seem as though Christmas would never get here and now that I'm an adult with two kids I often find myself saying, "It's Christmas again already?" The years seem to fly by at a lightning fast pace and sometimes I wish I had a pause button or could slow things down a little. That is one of the reasons I love to take pictures. There's something magical about being able to freeze a moment, to capture it and be able to look at it again and again, even though that small capsule in time will never repeat itself.
Christmas is a very special time of year and ever since having children five years ago, it's become more important than ever for me to remember the true meaning of this holiday. I want my kids to see that it's not about the tree or the gifts or Santa Claus or reindeer. All of those things are lovely and bring wonder and delight to the season as well, but they should not be our focus. Christmas is about the birth of Jesus Christ, who gave up all the beauty and glory of heaven to become a baby who would grow into a perfect man and die on our behalf. During the past five years as this time would approach I constantly questioned myself and pondered how Chris and I would keep our kids centered as parents. Do we tell him there's a Santa or immediately dismiss the idea? How many gifts should we get the kids? Should we tell the grandparents to limit the number of gifts they get? And on and on. I nearly exhausted myself, forgetting in the midst of it all that Christmas is also about joy. Family. Enjoying each other and the gift of relationships. The truth is that the biggest way my kids will see the true meaning of Christmas is through me and Chris. If we show them the happiness and love we have over the coming of our Savior, that joy will translate to them. Worrying about it will do nothing but add to my wrinkle lines. Every family is different and it's important to remember what works for some may not work for others. Some choose not to introduce Santa at all. Some do extravagant gifts and some don't. Stockings hang from the mantle in some homes and others don't have them. As fast as the past five years have moved, I am sure of this. My kids will not stay small for long. And even though Santa is not our focus during the holiday season, seeing my kids faces light up when they see their video message from Santa or hear his bells when he enters a room truly melts my heart. Their imaginations soar and they are allowed to enter into a enchanting place in their minds which for me was cut far too short. I have no intention of ending that place any sooner than necessary.
Today I am participating in Proverbs 31 Ministries' blog hop as we study A Confident Heart by Renee Swope. This is an online Bible Study which will be taking place over the next seven weeks.
The topic I chose for this post is a #movingforward story.
This week I had one of those epic mom fail moments. You see, for those of you who don't know me, I am a stay-at-home mom. My oldest is five and started kindergarten this year. I honestly never thought kindergarten could make a mom feel so unorganized and inadequate. When I was his age (yes, I said it), I spent a total of three hours at school and took a nap there. My son is there a full day, has no nap, and comes home with homework and a folder full of flyers, papers for parents to sign and return, and announcements every day. But I digress.
So on Wednesday I had one of those moments when all I wanted to do was find a hole to crawl into and bury my head. I feel as though I've been in a fog the past few weeks and it finally culminated a couple of days ago when I was given a not-so-subtle alarm to snap out of it.
My haze started in mid October when our family faced financial difficulties as a result of the government shut down. Later that week a long distance phone call to my parents revealed that my brother, who suffers from drug addiction, had been arrested. A couple of days later our furnace stopped working, leaving me stressed about our already shrinking bank account.
In the midst of my haze, I somehow forgot that my son got out of school three hours early on Wednesday. There was no flyer sent home and as a mom of a high maintenance two-year-old who relies heavily on reminders of dates and changes in schedules, I was out of the loop. So that afternoon I heard someone banging on our front door while my youngest was napping. Of course, my first response was annoyance because I didn't want them to wake my son.
Imagine my surprise when I look out the window and see my kindergartner standing there with my neighbor and her two boys. My neighbor with the perfectly manicured yard, who is head of the PTA and highly involved in the day to day activities of the school. My neighbor who was kind enough to walk my son home from school when his oblivious mom forgot.
I thanked her repeatedly and my son, fortunately, could've cared less who walked him home. So did I move on? No. I spent the next couple of days worrying. Far too little time rejoicing in the fact that my son was safe, and too much time wrapped in my insecurity over what others would think. I would be know as that mom. The scatter-brained mom.
I am so grateful for Chapter 5 of A Confident Heart because Renee reminded me that what others think about me is ultimately unimportant. What God thinks of me, however, is endlessly important. And to God, I am a masterpiece, created in Christ Jesus to do good works. Yes, I will fail. I will make mistakes. But if I learn from them and confess my sins before God, He is just and faithful to forgive, to give me a clean slate and remember my sins and mistakes no more. Thank you, Jesus.
As I move forward, I find so much freedom in praying and speaking God's promises aloud. I will continue to meditate on them each day. Speaking aloud gives my mind less room to be distracted. I spend far to much time feeling anxious about the opinion of others, and must move out of the shadow of insecurity and into the light of my Savior. He is the God of second chances. A God whose love is perfect even when I am not. I will stop looking in the rearview mirror, dwelling on my past failures, and look to my bright and shining future. A future declared by My Father to have purpose and meaning. A plan to prosper and not to harm.
My inquisitive five-year-old. He has his Daddy's engineering brain.
We had family photos taken the other day. The shoot was on a farm out in the middle of nowhere, and although the scenery was beautiful and the weather was perfect, I found myself trying very hard not to get lost on the way there. My husband works relatively close to the studio, so I drove separately with my five-year-old and twenty-two-month-old boys. After spending an hour getting them dressed and ready and trying to keep them from ruining their outfits, we climbed into the car.
As soon as we pulled out of the driveway, the questions spilled out of the mouth of my oldest. I also noticed the car was on E.
Where are we going? Why? Why are you slowing down? Why are you stopping here? What's the car in front of us doing? Where's Dadda? Did he take the blue car?
I wondered why I hadn't turned on the DVD player. Oh yes, because we created that rule. No DVD player for trips less than an hour. Why did we create that rule again?
The questions continued. At the first twenty or so, I answer with calm. Around question forty I am losing my patience.
Patience. It's a word I've thought a lot about lately. A characteristic I strongly desire to be present as I raise my children. Because not only is it vital if I'm not going to lose my ever-loving mind, but it goes hand in hand with love.
Cocking my head and yelling at him to be quiet, well, that's not love. Have I done it? Absolutely. Did I regret it? Yes. Have I lost my temper? Yes, all to often.
I've heard several women in my life say that they never ask God to give them patience because they know the result will be a trial which tests this virtue. In other words, patience must be learned. And I agree that it is like a muscle which must be stretched and exercised in order to grow. Especially in circumstances when we are waiting on God. For an answer to prayer. For something in our life to change.
But in that moment, I didn't have time to learn a character building lesson. I had time to mutter two words, "Jesus. Help."
I turned my head slightly and told my inquisitive boy, with as much serenity as I could muster, that I was trying to find my way to a place we'd never been and needed to concentrate. I told him to enjoy the drive and listen to the music.
To my complete amazement, he did what I asked. He was quiet for the remainder of the trip.
Now, will this always happen? I'm sure it won't. But can I call on the name of Jesus to give me the stillness I need? You bet I can.
Galatians 5:22 tells us that patience is one of the fruits of the Spirit. Another words, a supernatural ability. One that goes contrary to my flesh. When we receive Christ and are given the Holy Spirit, this seed is planted. Others include joy, peace, kindness and gentleness. The more I abide in him, the more these traits will grow and become evident.
In raising kids, there are times when I need the power of the Spirit right them and there. Sometimes, He simply tells me to step away for a moment if I am able. I know that a minute in the next room will not give my boys time to kill each other.
Other times, stepping away is not an option. And while I know my patience will be tested and grown as I continue my walk with Him, I'm so glad I can call on his name in those moments when my exasperation is at its peak. "....But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it." 1 Corinthians 10:13
A few months ago my friend Misty and I met for
an impromptu play date at the park.
As we were chasing our kids around, she asked me a question that made me
chuckle. "So what do you do
all day?" It's a question we
often ask ourselves as mothers, but not many are brave enough to put out in the
open. We soon discovered that I
spent most of the day doing "damage control" with my eighteen-month
old son, who enjoys rampaging through the trash and emptying cabinets, and she was going through the
separation anxiety phase with her 10-month-old daughter. Activities that, in the grand trajectory
of life, may not seem to matter.
Times when it's easy to question whether we are really making an impact,
doing something valuable with our lives.
Then comes social media. Pinterest, Facebook, Twitter, you name
it… everyone's seemingly neat little lives posted for the whole world to see,
and endless opportunities for mothers to make comparisons which lead to
feelings of inadequacy. We talked
about the perfectly made crafts we see mothers doing with their children on
Pinterest, and I wondered if anyone posted advice for dealing with the consequential
headache.
Our conversation reminded me of a parenting
devotion I recently read by Jim Daly, who states that one of the pitfalls we
often make when raising children, especially when we spend significant time
looking at social media, is that we compare other people's
"highlights" to our "blooper reels." Although there are some exceptions,
most moms aren't posting on Facebook about their son's decision to redecorate his
room with poop or their daughter's spontaneous meltdown on aisle ten of the
grocery store. And when we compare
these types of moments to someone else's "highlights," when the kids
are behaving and playing nicely, not only do we set ourselves up for disappointment
but we miss out on the blessings and gifts God has given each of us, uniquely
shaped and made to reflect His glory.
Paul writes in Ephesians "For we are
God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the
good things he planned for us long ago." (Ephesians 2:10, New
Living Translation)Not
God's rough draft, scrap work, or mistake. God's masterpiece.
Embrace this truth, fellow moms. Although there will be moments, sometimes even days, when it
feels like your life is simply one huge mess, each event tells a beautiful
story. When we step back and see
the connectedness, how the way we handle the discouraging times affects the course of our lives, we can then catch a glimpse of the
bigger picture. Then we realize that
even when covered in spit up and poop, if we love God and love our children
even the "blooper reels" really do matter.
Last week my oldest started kindergarten. It was a big transition for our family, so I dealt with it by keeping myself busy for the entire day, which wasn't hard to do since we were leaving for a five hundred mile trip to my brother-in-law's wedding the next day. It was a rainy, dreary day so I drove to the bus stop with my youngest in tow to drop him off and pick him up and made small talk with some of my neighbors who were waiting at the stop with me.
Then it happened. One of the neighbor ladies, who I've never talked to much before, asked me a question ruined my entire afternoon. She asked me if I was pregnant.
Now, if I was pregnant, even a tiny bit, the question would not have stung. But I'm not. Not in the slightest. Just, no.
I've never been the type of person who's been able to disguise how I'm feeling very well so I'm sure my face said it all. I gave her a simple "no," after which there was much backtracking on her part.
I went home and scoured my closet for a dress to wear to the upcoming wedding only to find that of course nothing looked good enough anymore and every dress accentuated parts of my body that I wanted to hide.
At this point I had two choices. I could internalize the comment, which is my natural reaction, or I could reach out to the beautiful women around me. Beautiful on the inside and out. I chose to do that latter, and I am so glad.
I found encouragement. I found lots of "What the…." I found empathy. And I felt better. So much better.
Having kids changes your body. Having two c-sections changes it even more. And even if you lose the baby weight, chances are you will never look like you did in high school. And that's ok. The blessing of having two little ones running around the house, laughing, playing, and sharing memories is worth so, so much more.
Having friends to walk the road with you and be with you through the ups and downs…well, that's priceless.
I've just had one those weeks. Those weeks when you have so much on your plate and you don't know how you're going to get it all done, but don't see any way of removing anything from the packed schedule. The school orientation, the soccer practices, and the emotions which spin around the major milestone of my oldest child starting kindergarten. And after being awoken in the middle of the night and dealing with insomnia afterward, my emotions are definitely running higher than usual.
On such days and weeks, it is so easy to focus on the negative. My sleep deprived brain wants nothing more than to take little words spoken out of context, get defensive over anything and everything, and say the first thing that pops into my head, no matter how sarcastic or insensitive it sounds. A loud squeal from my toddler or bickering heard from the other room grates on my nerves to the point where I think I might explode.
Even if we allocate our time wisely, we all go through those times in life when we feel overwhelmed. Especially when there are school aged children in the house and classes are starting again. Fall is just around the corner. Gone are the lazy days of summer even though sometimes taking a nap sounds like a little piece of heaven.
When I have days and weeks like this, sometimes even months, it helps me to stop, even just for a few minutes, and reflect on all the beautiful things God has blessed me with. I have two delightful and healthy boys who all of my family and friends love and adore. I have a hard working husband who is full of integrity, faith in God, and commitment to his family. I have a roof over my head and options of what to eat and wear each day. I have a wonderful and caring church family and a place to grow spiritually. I have some amazing friends. And best of all, I can come before my gracious, infinite God in prayer to ask for the strength I lack, which He willingly gives.
It isn't always easy to focus on these things. Our nature fights against it and we are surrounded by miserable people who want nothing more to make us as unhappy as they are. But when I focus my mind on the good, when I fill it with God's word and meditate on the beauty and the grace that is present in so many ways, the benefits are more numerous than the clouds in the sky. "...Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things." Philippians 4:8
It's Friday. Where hundreds of writers come together every week over at the lovelyLisa-Jo Baker's blog to spend five minutes writing about one thing. One word. No hyper-editing. No getting in your own way. Just writing, flat out. The most important rule: encourage the writer who linked up before you. Won't you join us?
Today's prompt: Last GO:
We live in an ever-changing world. Many things do not last. Yesterday's technology is today's garbage, text messages and tweets often precede face to face conversation, and a game of candy crush saga is more important to some than engaging with the people surrounding them. Often, I feel as though I'm simply trying to grasp on to something that is just out of my reach. To taste the real.
One of my greatest desires for my sons is to raise them with a faith that will last. A love for God which will stand the test of time. Despite all the questions, the hardships, the days when they just don't want to get out of bed in the morning and they wonder why they took that job, they days when it seems easier just to blend with the crowd than make a stand for what they know is honorable, true and worthy.
I want them to come to me openly with their questions and to understand that it's okay not to have all the answers. That it's okay to ask God about the uncertainties that are deep in their heart and that on this side of eternity, we will never be completely and wholly fulfilled.
But God, in all his infinite goodness and unending love, he is answer that will last when everything else comes to an end. When nature shifts in the shadows and the seasons change from one to the next, He remains unchanged, forever.
I am a worrier. During periods of my life when there are a lot of changes taking place, I often have nights of little to no sleep. My mind races. I go through thousands of different scenarios in my head of things that could happen. Things that could go wrong. The "what ifs." My thoughts will go into the future, outside of the grace of God, constantly wondering instead of just trusting. Spending time in an endless wheel of stress that does nothing except add more gray hairs to my head. Because that's exactly what worrying accomplishes. Nothing.
When we worry, we're basically telling God that He's not big enough to handle our problems. To take care of us. That somehow he's unaware of what's going on in our lives.
Over the past few years, I have become much better at letting go. God has put me in situations where I had no choice. With moving. With finding a home. With finances. With making new friends. I had to surrender and simply say, "God, you've got this. I am counting on you." It is still a constant battle, but I'm learning each day.
In a week, I will be facing another major change in which I have no control. My oldest son will be starting kindergarten. It will be a major transition and I know it will take the entire family some time to adjust. And although each day I pray for the Lord to protect Jaden and ease him into this new phase of his life, I can feel the nagging of worry in the back of my head threatening to take over.
How tired is he going to be after being in school for nearly eight hours? Will he eat at lunch or piddle around like he often does? Will he adjust to the structure of having almost his entire day on schedule? And then there's the big one…will the teachers and staff remember his tree nut and peanut allergy?
Yes, my son has food allergies. We carry an Epi-pen everywhere. But that is another blog post for another day.
I have to admit, it will be a breath of fresh air to not have to listen to the constant bickering and whining between my two sons. To not have to play the mediator the entire day. But I sure am going to miss my sweet boy as he enters this new phase.
God, help me to remember that you love my son more than I do. You know the number of hairs on his head and knit him together in my womb. He is yours and you will take care of him, each step of the way.
"Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?"
I have entered uncharted waters with my boys, and they are very turbulent at times. These are the moments I don't share on Facebook. Facebook is my place for sharing the "highlights" of my sons' lives. The fuzzy, cuddly, Hallmark moments, such as this picture of the two of them reading together. I live for these moments, and there are a lot of them. But then I leave the room for two seconds to go pee or change out of my PJs and hear nothing but yelling and whining as soon as I am absent.
My youngest hit his older brother over the head with a light saber a few hours after this photo was taken. He also has a new habit of pulling Jaden's hair.
My oldest recently started telling us "no" when he doesn't want to do something we ask him to do. He also has begun making faces, rolling his eyes, and crossing his arms across his chest to show his anger toward our response.
These are issues we are working through and trying to learn the best ways to handle each situation as it comes. Time-outs and taking away privileges are punishments we already enforce, and they are usually effective. But I also need to do a better job of managing my children's time, especially my five-year-old. And by that I don't mean micro-managing every second so that they can't enjoy being kids. I simply mean setting boundaries.
I am currently working on a list of daily chores for my five-year-old. Many of the ones I've come up with are things he already does, so it's more about organization for me and coming up with a system. Some of the tasks include feeding the dogs, helping with laundry, picking up toys, etc. Some of the chores will just be part of living in this home. Others, he will receive a small allowance each week which will be divided into three separate jars: Give, Save, and Spend. I will keep everyone up-to-date on how these ideas progress. Putting things in writing is my way of keeping myself accountable.
My point is this. My kids are not perfect. They are far from it. As Romans 3:23 says, "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." My job as a parent is to train them up in the way they should go. To not check out mentally and start a game of Words with Friends create a new board on Pinterest when I don't feel like dealing with the turmoil. To address the issues which come up on a daily basis and to discipline when needed. To explain the reason for punishment in a way my child can understand and to listen when he has an earnest question. To give positive reinforcement when appropriate.
There have been tears, and I know there will be more to come. But no one ever said being a parent was easy and if they did I'd like to know what planet they came from.
God gave me these precious gifts and entrusted them to me. I know that without His strength, I will fail. But with His help and guidance, I can advance through this unmapped area of mothering. "Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it." Proverbs 22:6
My boys spent the better part of an afternoon playing with a drain hole. Not with toys, not bouncing in around in the shaded float I bought for my one year old, but pouring water into a drain hole and removing the cover. And they were absolutely delighted by it. A simple activity. Two brothers. Nothing but smiles and giggles. Here's the thing. I want to bottle up that joy. That contentment over something so small and mundane, and store it forever.
We grow up and we forget to take pleasure in the every day. Waking up in the morning to a new day. Hearing a hummingbird buzz by your ear. The smell of the foliage after the rain storm. We get lost in the deadlines and the bills and the cleaning and laundry and we forget to breathe and take a moment to slow down, rest, and take in the unordinary that has come to seem ordinary.
My boys have more toys than they can play with, access to more cartoons than they can watch in a day, and three sets of grandparents to spoil them. But what makes them happiest, what makes them laugh until they are breathless, is when I am a kid again. When I chase them around the back yard, play hide and seek with them, and act so silly I forget my age. I hear the endless cries of, "Again, Mama, again!" and although they wear me out completely, it is so worth it.
I need more of those moments. Because they grow up so fast. Too fast. I blinked and my oldest son was five, blinked again and my youngest will be two in a few months. God, help me to push through the tiredness and enjoy these minutes, these hours, when my kids are small. Tomorrow they will be older. Different. And a day closer to being an adult. "Let all the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19:14
He is my rocket. My firecracker. My never-stops-moving, easily excitable, constantly curious, and very defiant Gabe. Gabriel, as the Hebrew calls him, strong man of God. Our choice of a name for him was very deliberate, as the stories of this archangel have brought a depth of understanding to some of the mysteries in the heavenly realms. And at the very young age of twenty months, he is already proving to have a very strong personality. He fights me on everything whether it be what he's eating or how he's treating his big brother, and the only time when he is semi-still is when he is strapped in his car seat.
I absolutely love and adore him. I could literally eat his cheeks. When I hear him say "bubble," which is one of his newest words, I just want to smother his face with kisses.
Even when he keeps me up at night and stresses me to the point where I have to get fitted for a night guard to keep me from clenching my teeth.
He stretches me as a mother in new ways that were never there with my calm, goal-oriented and focused first son. While I used to turn to God when I had reached my breaking point and felt as though I couldn't drag myself out of bed another day, now I begin my day with Him. Or at least I try to. I know that I cannot direct and streamline the endless energy of this little wonder without the help of the one who created him. He knows him. He was a glint in his Maker's eye before he was a tiny embryo in my belly, and I've been tuned, after trying and failing, to the fact that without His guidance I am simply a blind person floundering in the dark.
I pray. I pray that he will use every ounce of the stubbornness and spiritedness in him for God's glory. That these traits would make him a tenacious force for Christ, and not his reason for stumbling. And when he does stumble, that he will learn and grow and become stronger instead of bitter and defeated.
I pray. I pray because in doing so I am inviting the Maker of the universe and the Creator of my son to have an influence in my son's life, in the life of my family. Free will gives me the choice. To invite Him in or leave him out.
When I invite Him in I have peace. Not because I know the end of the story but because I know the One who's writing it.
So I leave my Gabriel at the feet of the One who made him, and I kneel at the foot of the cross asking for all his grace and mercy as I raise this boy who I hope will live to embody everything his name implies.
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
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