A Breakthrough and Things That Make Me Smile

Just a couple of random thoughts swimming around today.

First, my kids always surprise me. I stay on them about arguing, using mean words and voices, and the notion that they have the right to put their hands on one another. I could live in a sea of laundry, dirty dishes, and crumb-showered floors if they would just get along. Last night my oldest surprised me. She'd been away at her dad's all weekend, and Sunday nights I usually have to begin the transition - goading the switch between the behavior allowed at his house and what is allowed here. It can get ugly.

Her little brother and baby sister were in her room which she will sometimes tolerate, but only for short periods of time. Once they touch something they shouldn't or swipe candy from her purse, the good-will and tolerance comes to an abrupt end. I listened from my recliner in the living room as the little ones started to get into her things, and I waited for the screech from her that will typically follow their undesired behavior. I cringed as I waited for it. But all I heard was her asking them four times in a calm, quiet voice for them to "Stop it." and "Please don't do that." When I realized that she was really trying to have self-control, I stepped in. I had to praise her for the restraint and let her know she had handled her frustration properly. This morning I am still in a state of amazement. I don't think I broke up any fights or had to referee any arguments this morning either... my amazement grows.

On a lighter note ~

Yesterday as I drove the two little ones home from church, I heard my baby girl instigating an argument with her brother. He continued the argument and made it worse. Usually I tell him it's silly to argue with a baby. Instead I told him, "You know you aren't supposed to argue with her. She doesn't understand what you're saying, she just repeats what you say." Then she hollers, "Yeah! I a BABY!"  O.o  (I laughed out loud at her little outburst.) I think there's more going on in that little blonde head of hers than she lets on...

This morning I glanced at my son who was changing his clothes in the middle of the living room. I noticed the clothing he had pulled out - I just shook my head and told him, "Bud, that outfit looks kinda crazy." He shot me a look then said with absolute confidence: "It is NOT crazy. It's awesome."

I let out a burst of laughter that earned another 'look.'

Matthew & his "awesome" outfit.

Opening the Blinds

This is going to be one of those raw, open, candid posts that will have me struggling with regret and wondering whether or not I really should have published it....

First, Romans 7:18  "For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not."

I can't be the only woman (wife, mom,  friend) who struggles so much with her walk in Christ. Those confusing few verses in Romans 7 where Paul says (in paraphrase), "I know what I should do but it is what I don't do, and what which I hate is what I do.." more often than is reasonable, that sums it up for me. (I promised in my first post I wouldn't pretend everything was wonderful and perfect.) And it's trickling downstream. It hurts to see  some of my weaknesses seeping into my children. I wrestle back and forth between being strong in my decisions, encouraging them to do what is right, and having the type of temperament God would be pleased with; and being weak, lazy, whiny, and bad-tempered - the example of what I shouldn't be. (My mouth is what I struggle with the most. I do penance reading the entire book of James.. ) Lately it is really eating me up inside (how I know the Holy Spirit is in there somewhere). I can't expect my children to be what I am not.

Somewhere along the way I have come to realize that my battle is not fought in a few moments of reading my Bible and with an ardent but very singular prayer. My battle is one I must fight daily, sometimes even hourly, to combat emotions, the tendency to become distracted, and the desire to do things that make me happy instead of making my Heavenly Father happy. I must read daily, and I must be in prayer constantly. I must be aware at every moment where my thoughts are and how I should properly handle the circumstances in my life. My desire is to be reflection of Him, but those desires mean nothing if I don't make a personal, diligent effort to change bad habits and to be sure that I am not distracted by meaningless things. Which, sadly, happens often because distraction takes my mind from worries, frustrations, and the fact that I am completely inadequate. I take it upon myself to create an escape instead of looking to Jesus to confirm my identity.

I desperately want my children to have a godly example to follow in me. I can make tons of happy memories for them. I can give them the very best of everything. I can pass down traditions and teach my girls what I know about womanhood. I can make great meals, make park and library trips, be at every event they want me to come to. And I can feel great about all of that. But if I don't teach them how to be godly young people, if I don't teach them to love one another, or teach them responsibility (the right way, for the right reasons) then in truth I've given them nothing. First and foremost I want them to desire to please God, and right behind that I desire for them learn how to overcome 'self' and let God shape their lives into what pleases Him. They need my example. My prayer this week (hour by hour) is that God would fill me with His Spirit. I am asking for His wisdom. I am asking Him to put me in check when I start to lean in the wrong direction. There is no way I can do this without Him. To be the wife and mother my husband and kids need, the wife and mother He wants me to be, I have to commit my entire life to Him.

The chapter I'm studying and meditating upon is 2 Peter 1. It speaks of the believer and how he (or she) is identified by his fruit (the ways other people recognize that he is a believer). If you struggle with the things I mentioned in this post, read and study this chapter. (If you go to church with me, you'll recognize it as the book we're currently studying in SS.) We should pray and ask God for wisdom and guidance, but we must also make the effort and sacrifice our own desires to please Him. I am confident it is there we will find peace and rest, and the blessings that come when He is pleased.

Understanding God's Love: From a Mom's Perspective

I sat down this morning to write a loving note to each of my daughters explaining what was expected of them at home and giving them biblical basis for each responsibility. I started with Hannah (13) and explained that God's first commandment to us is to love one another. Then I explained the importance of having a heart of service, and moved to personal responsibilities. I felt led to confirm my love for her, and explained that God gave me the responsibility to teach her to be a young woman who loves Him, and who is a reflection of Him. It occurred to me that she may struggle with her identity in Christ as I have throughout my life. More often than I care to admit I wonder if God cares about me, how He could love me, why He would bother. I wrote this to her, and I wanted to share it because I know many people struggle with understanding God's feelings for them. For reference, Ava is our two year old daughter, Hannah's baby sister.

"I know you don’t really understand God’s feelings for us, and sometimes neither do I, but maybe this will help you understand it a little better. You, Leah, Matthew and Ava are my children and I love you all dearly. You are much older than Ava, and you see how easy it is to love her even though she is a pain sometimes. You also have an awareness of her that the younger kids don't have. Consider your love for Ava. If she does something that makes you mad, but then hurts herself, or is hurt by someone else – how does that make you feel? Are you quick to forget that she made you mad, and don't you want to run to her and give her comfort? How about when she is so cute and sweet and she throws her chubby little arms around you and hugs you SO tight? How about when she says she loves you - without you telling her to? She doesn’t really understand love or how to show you she really loves you, but when she says it, doesn’t it melt your heart? God knows that we don’t really know how to truly show Him we love Him. We disobey Him or make wrong choices, yet when we call to Him in need, He always runs to comfort us. When we say we love Him and really mean it, or try to love Him in our own way, I believe it melts His heart, too. We are made in His image, so our feelings for our children (or baby sisters) reflect His feelings for us. But, remember that He is perfect, so His love is perfect too! Think about this when you are trying to figure out who you are to God. Just as you are my child, you are also His!  

All my love, 

Mommy." 

I sat here with tears in my eyes as I realized that God recognizes my attempts to show Him that I love Him. I believe with all my heart that even though I don't have it quite right, He sees my pure intention and is thrilled, just as I am thrilled by my own children. As I grow in faith and obedience, my love and the ways I show it will grow too. Doesn't that just bless your heart?!? 

What's For Dinner, Mom?

Believe me, tonight you don't want to know. I spent part of the day cleaning up around the house, and another part out and about picking up some things needed for the weekend. When I got home I was rushing to get dinner ready, pull my clothes in from the line before it rained, dress my nine year old in a spanish dancer costume and custom-create a hairstyle and send her off with her dad to her school's fall festival, while keeping my littlest one off me and out of danger. Spaghetti seemed a good choice - it's quick, filling, and there are usually leftovers. The meat was cooking in the skillet and I added salt, pepper, garlic, oregano, and a dash of chili powder. When I put the spices back onto the rack I hollered because I realized I had grabbed the ginger instead of the garlic powder (ew! and, in my own defense, they are the same color!) Oh well. I couldn't do anything but try to mask it, so I tossed in some extra chili powder. I added the sauce to the meat and started the water for noodles before I pulled the last of the clothes from the line. As I put the last few things in my basket, my husband, his cousin, and my daughter appeared in the back yard armed with a video camera and a blow torch (?). Apparently there was a huge, menacing spider dangling from a tree limb and they meant to annihilate it. Of course I had to see what all the fuss was about. I followed them to the edge of the woods and there he was - the biggest, ugliest, grossest spider I'd ever seen. I'm pretty sure I could see his eyeballs, and I need my vision prescription updated. My husband's cousin brought the torch up to it and we all watched with heebie-jeebies as it fell to the ground. I'll leave the rest of the details out, but suffice it to say that there is one less big spider in the world I need to worry about. We talked for a few minutes and I casually walked back in to stir the sauce - which I found spewing all over the wall, stove, and counter top. I had left the burner on high instead of bringing it down to low where I simmer (as opposed to boil) spaghetti sauce. I tried to salvage it. Half of it had boiled down and part of it was stuck to the bottom of the skillet. Scraping the loose sauce from the top of the bubbling, churning mass was almost not worth it.

There have been few times in my life when I had to say I blew it. Today, I blew it. I say we eat the salad and garlic bread and call it a night. 

Yes, this is that spider. 

Motherhood: A Journey or a Destination?

Before I was married and had children I would often imagine myself as a mother taking care of babies, dressing them in cute outfits, fixing their hair, feeding them, playing with them, and savoring all those sweet moments. I always knew I wanted to have a quiver full, the bigger the better. My young adult years were nearly terrifying because I was confident Jesus would return before I could get married and experience pregnancy and motherhood.  As early as five years old (nearly six) I knew I wanted to be a mommy. I remember being given a pretty baby doll for Christmas that year that I completely fell in love with. I loved her so much that in my six-year-old mind and heart I ached for her to be real. Kneeling beside my bed with her in my arms I tried to convince God that if He really loved me, He would make my baby real. I closed my eyes tight and fervently prayed with all the faith in my little heart, "Please God, make her real!" I opened my eyes slowly and with great hope only to be heartbroken and disillusioned. She was still hard and plastic, painted eyes wide open.

The Lord tarried and it happened. I was blessed to be married and to be with child within that year. When my first child was born I was quite confident in my mommy skills. Nursing was tackled within a few weeks, a flexible schedule was implemented and it worked out beautifully. Sleeping through the night was typical after about six weeks, and overall, I felt pretty lucky. Baby number two was easier than the first, even after returning to work eight weeks post-partum. My daughters were four years apart with gentle natures. If this is all there was to it, then I had arrived - motherhood was conquered.

Then they started to grow up. They wanted to do things that didn't require my help or guidance. I was lost. No one told me they would want to do things that didn't include me! Then I was really heartbroken and disillusioned!

Four babies later (now thirteen, nine, four, and two) I am bewildered. Completely - in the words of one of my dearest friends in the world - befuddled. Thinking I had it all figured out was such foolishness. Knowing what I know now I laugh at the notion that I had any clue how to survive it. I fully realize that it is not a destination at all. The passing years, the tough experiences, the knock-down drag-outs, the treasured moments, the boredom, the hectic schedules - all have contributed to my experience on this beautiful journey referred to as motherhood. The journey begins at conception and extends into eternity. For me, it is the thing that defines a large portion of my soul and has replaced most other things that were once relative to my identity. First, I'm a daughter of God; second, I am a wife to my very best friend; third, but certainly not the least, I am a mother to five distinct and extraordinary souls. My constant prayer is to become the mom that God wants me to be to the four little people I have the privilege of bringing up. This journey is the most important of my life, because I am responsible to show these little people how to be productive members of society. I am responsible to teach them to be self-reliant and resourceful. The scariest yet most crucial responsibility is teaching them about Jesus and showing them how to live their lives with Him at the center. If not for this element, there would be no hope to have a successful, rewarding, or even tolerable journey... I strive (though often fail) to walk daily with Him and teach my children to do the same. One day they will begin their own journeys and I will do my best to be an example they can follow!

Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate. (Psalm 127:3-5 KJV)

You Know You're the Mom of a Cheerleader When...

... the kitchen becomes a practice area for cheer jumps at 7:30 in the morning. Standing over my coffee at the kitchen counter a while ago (yes, I got a full cup this morning, nice and hot!) we were chatting about school and the coming weekend when suddenly she erupts into a full jump, arms swinging and legs flying. I just shake my head. Clearly she is not at all concerned about where and when she bursts into cheer. Clapping and hand motions follow me everywhere. The other day I caught her teaching my son to "H-U-S-T-L-E." He's four. Now I hear it even when she's not here!


My little secret: I love it, and it is exactly what I signed up for. ;)

Sanity in a Cup

There are mornings, and then there are MY mornings. I feel some days like I'm running as hard as I can to keep up with the clock but falling just short of being on time. Is there anything more frustrating?! I desperately need a cup of coffee before I can think clearly and make sure everyone is on time. It is imperative that I creep as quietly as I possibly can into my 9 year old daughter's room because I don't want wake up my 2 year old who shares the room with her. My mission every morning is to get a cup of coffee made and to swallow at least half of it down before my baby girl wakes up. Hah. What is the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result! Alas, most mornings my creeping is in vain. Baby girl wakes up at the slightest creak of the door and is on her feet faster than a microwaved kernel of popcorn. "Hi Mommy! I hun-gy. Git me?" [Sigh] It begins. Will I do it differently tomorrow? Probably not.

I sweep baby out of the crib while coaxing sister out of bed and limp out to the kitchen (because my ankle is sore from an injury that happened a few years ago and it aches every morning). Baby is dropped her into her high chair and I fumble around for a clean bowl to pour cereal into. Meanwhile, my husband and 4 year old son are still asleep, and my son usually wakes up with the mood of a grumpy 80 year old man -  I try to keep my baby girl quiet while I start the coffee. (Remember - insanity!)  One would think I would remember the auto function, but most days I don't. The water is poured into the machine and I am pulling the coffee bag out of the cabinet when in my peripheral vision appears a blonde-haired boy with an "I want food" look on his face. I put the coffee bag down, fumble around for bowl number two, and pour his cereal. By this time, my 9 year old daughter has entered the kitchen and is chatting mindlessly about her fundraiser and about some kid at school who poured yogurt into her lunch box.. blah blah blah... all I can concentrate on is the coffee pot. It's like drowning and reaching for the life preserver but no one will toss it out to me!! Three out of four are now eating breakfast and I finish preparing the coffee pot. I push the "start" button and feel relief flowing through me. By now baby girl has finished her cereal and is banging her spoon on the tray and clamoring to get "OUT!" In my gut I know it's a bad idea, but I clean her up and let her loose anyway.

Coffee's ready! I pull out my mug, find my favorite creamer, and pour some hot, steamy, creamy goodness. My sanity. My vice. I take a sip. It goes down hot and smooth. I savor it, that first sip of the morning. There's nothing like it. My eyes close briefly as I anticipate sip number two, but my reverie is interrupted by an argument between my son and 9 year old. Something about a cereal box and who had it first, and in the scuffle somehow a bottle of water is spilling out its contents onto the table. Seriously - don't these kids know by now not to provoke me until the first cup of coffee is gone? I grab a towel to sop up the mess while scolding my kids for arguing. In confusion I turn around mid-swipe because I don't see or hear my baby girl. Calling her does no good - I must investigate. She's not in the kitchen, dining room, or living room. Please, Lord, please.. not the bathroom...  In the back of my mind I see a flash of my coffee cup on the counter, cooling off fast...

After a thorough sanitizing, I bring baby girl back to the kitchen and give her some juice. Distraction is the key here - I'll be able to finish that first cup of coffee while she drinks her juice. Agh.. it's too cold. Sixty seconds in the microwave will warm it up to near-perfection. I put it in the microwave and mash the buttons, then do a quick check of the kitchen. 9 year old making her lunch, baby girl drinking juice, son crashing up Hot Wheels on the table while he munches on his cereal. I hear doors creaking and water running in the bathroom so I know my oldest is now up and about. Beep! Okay, now a few sips. Not as great as the first, but I take what I can get.

"Mommy!" I hear from my oldest. In the bathroom she is having a breakdown because she has a football game to cheer for this afternoon and she can't get her ponytail right. Again I set my cup down. I spend a few minutes pulling her hair up and smoothing it out, painstakingly combing it against her head because she is obsessed with perfection - if there is a lump she will let me know it. Once her hair is done I check my phone for the actual time (all my clocks are set ahead a few minutes) and realize it's time to drive my 9 year old to school. I run a brush through her hair too, stick a barrette in it, then drag her out the door. Halfway to her school I realize I left my coffee cup on the counter in their bathroom. [Sigh.]

Twenty minutes later I return home and find relative calm. My husband is now up and the two littlest ones are bouncing around on our bed. My oldest is in her room getting her things ready for school. I grab my cup from their bathroom and head for the microwave again.

This over-nuked, pathetic cup of coffee holds a moment of balance and rightness with the world. I finish it, though it has lost that loveliness it possessed earlier this morning. I have high hopes as my second cup is poured and I prepare to sit a moment and ponder my day. My husband calls to me because he needs a shirt ironed. (I do this for him because there are some things I don't do.) Reluctantly, I walk away from a perfectly good cup of coffee.

Tomorrow, in all likelihood, I will do it all over again. But I promise myself that at first opportunity I will go to the coffee shop, purchase a large cup of mocha something, and I will sit in the car with the doors locked until my cup is empty.