Coffee With Your Cream?!

I don’t like coffee.  

Before you cast me off let me try to win you over with this: I do like iced coffee.  Although, that may not be entirely true because what I like is hazelnut creamer with a little iced coffee added to it.  I probably only add the iced coffee to remain somewhat acceptable in a world of “you don’t drink coffee?!” die-hard, need it to live, coffee in your veins people.

Another thing I don’t like is a messy refrigerator.  I’m a little OCD when it comes to our fridge – “our” being the one in our home.  I have three kids and two labs so my OCD takes a forced back seat most of the time.  But give me hazelnut creamer and iced coffee in a clean fridge and I’m a happy gal. 

Which leads me to the day I opened the refrigerator door to find that my hazelnut creamer spilled all over shelves, through the vegetable holder and was now laying in a puddle below.  To make matters worse, I found it as we were rushing out the door with no time to clean it up.   Deep down inside I didn’t even want to clean it up.  I hoped it wasn’t as bad as I knew it was…but we all know how that goes.

The next day, I unloaded the fridge intending to sop up the creamer, possibly cry a little, and then open the brand new hazelnut creamer that now sat safely in the back of the shelf.  But, the more I scrubbed, the more I realized that my “clean-for-a-family-of-5” fridge was anything but.   I was slightly horrified at the smear of A1 Sauce and the several other unrecognizable things I had uncovered.  Until this moment I really didn’t think it was all that bad, it could have been way worse, it has been worse, but it certainly wasn’t as cleaned up as I thought it was before this disaster happened.  I began wiping down every bottle, spraying sanitizer and scrubbing every corner. 

As I did these things, I remembered a time when the “hazelnut creamer” in my life spilled out.  The one thing I treasured and cared for the most had turned upside down and spilled all over everything else that I thought was well.   At the time, life seemed pretty good, acceptable, clean enough, until God used this one thing that would get my attention and let it nearly unravel so that I would see more clearly.  Those moments of emptying the shelves of my heart were some of the hardest.  It took days, months and in some areas years to clean the grime of what had built up. 

Was it convenient?  Not at all.

Did I believe I’d survive it?  Honestly, no.

But was it worth it?  Absolutely. 

That doesn’t mean it stays sparkling clean after one good scrubbing.  It still takes work of deciding what is worth space on the shelves and what there is no room for, what will provide nourishment and what will be spoiled or cause clutter.  It takes consistency and time to slow down, to clean up the corners, to check every hidden place.  And the figurative “hazelnut creamer” of my life that had once spilled out because of my disregard is now regarded as something even more valuable, worth protecting, and highly treasured.   

If your “creamer” has spilled, don’t leave the door closed hoping it will clean up itself.  What you face may be horrifying, but what matters is that you’re willing to bravely take it on knowing God will see you through it. 

Open the door, get on your knees and begin.  

"Create in me a pure heart, O God,

                     and renew a steadfast spirit within me."  Psalm 51:10

Princess Kate and I

We mamas are our own worst critics.  We are also animalistic when it comes to protecting our young at any cost or measure.  God’s given us supernatural abilities to hear the unspoken, to see the details that go unnoticed by most, to calm a raging sea within our children and much more.  We caffeinate, we overcompensate and we give it our all every waking moment of their childhood.  We also have this amazing ability to rally around one another in times of need because we have this underlying understanding, a common sisterhood that seems unbreakable.  We got your back, right? 

Until we don’t. 

As a society this past week we have abandoned our friend, our sister, another mother because of “status” and “standards” and a 30 second film roll.  What we have been quick to forget is that the momentary footage we glimpse is not even a mere fraction of what makes a mother.  We all gasped at the heels, we all scrunched up our brows, we all looked up and down trying to find that post-baby belly, and we all began recalling the hospital gown that left our battle worn behinds on display for all to see.  Then it happened.  We united in numbers too vast to count and we unintentionally began displaying an ugly aggression of tearing down and minimizing another women, another mother. 

Princess Kate and I, we have this thing in common and let me honestly say, it’s painful. 

I sat in a ladies group, a small gathering of women I had grown to trust and love.  But one day I was told that “…you and your husband always match on Sunday mornings.  And your kids are always dressed perfectly – everything about you is so put together…” it went on.  Not in a complimentary type of way, but a bitter one.  My heart hurt for this mama who had shared her struggles.  I understood her and though she couldn't see it, we had been walking a similar path in motherhood.  All I could think of was “if she only knew.” 

If she only knew that our matching outfits are of no credit to me.  I don’t cheerfully rise early, pick out perfectly matching clothes and iron them while I sip coffee.  Not even close, mama.  I drag myself out of bed at the last possible minute because I am.not.a.morning.person.  I spend a solid 30 minutes trying to find anything that comes close to fitting.  Once I make up my stubborn mind, my husband dresses himself to compliment my outfit.   He’s always done it and for that brief moment in time I feel special and seen and reassured that he’s right there by my side – because taking one step in front of a congregation and/or crowd terrifies me every.single.time.  Those kids… girlfriend, if they look put together then Hallelujah! 

My priorities are:

1) Bodies covered +bonus for clothes that don’t have holes or stains

2) Shoes +bonus if they match, socks are optional

          That’s it.  We’re out the door… and always late (sigh). 

But that’s life, that’s motherhood. 
It isn't what it first appears to be if you edit out a small piece of it.  
It isn't what a filtered social media account gives glimpse to. 

And there’s no shame in it. 

I know for certain that “if they only knew” has crossed the mind of the princess.  Why?  Because mamas – no status, title, or prep-crew can change the pain of birthing a child!  Regardless as to how beautiful that red dress looked, how high those shoes were or how elegantly the couple stood there, birth is birth.  It’s God’s design and there’s not a thing we can do to change the course of it! 

The majority of us think of those hours after labor as a haze of Dermoplast, diapers filled with ice, mesh panties, and hair ties.  We could barely help ourselves to a hot shower let alone wave to a crowd.  Our bodies were stretched thin, we bore the pain with the breaking and cringed at everything our bodies did that no-one prepared us for.  One thing is certain, in all our similarities, not a single birth-story is the same as another.  Not a single mother mothers like any other mother. 

Princess Kate is no different.  Her lifestyle may be unlike the general population of parents, but just in the same, each of our lifestyles differ from one home to the next.  Did we ever consider that maybe she preferred grippy hospital socks over heels?  Maybe she secretly desired privacy and to experience the newness of a baby away from the public eye?  Maybe she felt just as uncomfortable as any of us would have felt hours after birth waving to a watching, judging world?  She is human.  She is a mama. 

Where is our compassion, our humanness, our understanding and empathetic ways that we so carefully navigate the rest of our lives with?  Where are the mama eyes that see a little more than the rest of the world? 

Princess Kate in her red dress and heels may not be as un-relatable like we all so quickly assumed.  Because mama, you are beautiful.  Your birth story is admirable.  Every stretch mark and every misshaped, unrecognizable place on your body is lovely.  Every weary moment that you press on and pour yourself out is one worth celebrating.  Whether it be barefoot or heels, red dress or over-sized sweatshirt, you do you.  Because who you are is amazing.  Don’t ever forget it, mama.  And don’t ever bring someone else down to prove it.  Don’t ever compare yourself to another.  Your kids were given you because you in all your glorious mess is what they need.  That is a beautiful, wonderful, indescribable thing! 

Bringing Ginger Ale Home

It’s the message that everyone knows the real meaning of and I can assure you is most dreaded by parents:  Can you bring home ginger ale?

The three of us mamas sat together over ice-cream where no small hands were trying to steal a bite.  We really covered much in our brief conversation, women have a way of doing that that’s fit enough for an Olympic sport.  We happened to be talking about sickness and the two others shared how their girls had recently been sick while I was utterly thankful that so far our kids had skipped out on this.  But no sooner did the thought cross my mind did the text for ginger ale come through.  My husband updated me briefly on the situation at home, our littlest was the one in need but for the moment everything was under control. 

The girls and I continued our evening, but my mama heart was concerned for my little fella and for Daddy who was holding down our fort.  I trusted he would let me know if I needed to come home right away and I also trusted that he was fully capable of handling our children, even if one was sick.  But after some time passed I checked in to see how things were and received no response, then that trust began to waver.  I wondered why I hadn’t heard from him and imagined that if he hadn’t reassured me everything was okay, then everything clearly could not have been okay! 

I headed home and picked up ginger ale on my way, all while picturing the scene that might unfold as I walked through the door.  I was preparing myself to be scrubbing floors, juggling buckets and up all night.  I thought for sure there would be a huge sigh of relief when I walked through the door because help had arrived…

Instead, they were all watching a movie together.  They were at-ease and completely under control. 

I was greatly relieved but could hardly believe how unnecessary all my worrying, anxiousness and preparing had been.  I had every reason to trust my husband’s ability, which I do, but nevertheless my desire to be needed and to intervene caused my trust to seem faltering.

It didn’t take long for my Heavenly Father to open my eyes to see my heart reflected in this momentary scene of another day in parenting.  God has never given me any reason to not fully trust in His ability to work for my good, to come through, to amaze me…in fact He’s gone above and beyond to reveal Himself in God-size ways just how much I can trust Him.  Yet I falter. 

We tend to pick up the pieces and try to figure out the puzzle in our own way, create our own picture, do it ourselves.  We rush ahead and insist on intervening with our own help when our Father is completely under control, unphased by the circumstances that tempt to distract us.   How often do we take the part we are to do, think it may not be enough and from that point try to make it more elaborate and complex, more seemingly necessary to building the Kingdom? 

In Mark 4:35-40 Jesus asks his disciples to get in the boat to cross to the other side.  Without question they obediently follow but when the storm hits and waves break over the boat they panic.  They wake Jesus and accuse him of not caring if they drown, they allow a momentary trouble to distract them from their destination. 

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 4:6-7

His Word makes it clear that we are not to worry or be anxious about anything.  We need to trust Him fully, knowing that our purpose and our position not only matter but make an eternal difference in the Kingdom of God.  It’s not up to our limited opinion to decide what needs to be done or how we should do it.  It’s up to our minds made up to follow God’s lead and be alert to the work of God surrounding us as we invest ourselves in His plan. 

So for the heart that feels like the “ginger-ale picker upper” in the Kingdom: Your part matters.

It may seem insignificant, unnoticed and unseen but it’s what the Father has asked and called you to do.  God doesn’t call you to busy you or keep you occupied until Kingdom come. He calls you in order to equip you to bring the Kingdom here to earth.  

God doesn’t need us to fulfill His plan, He wants us to be a part of His Story and to help lead others Home.  God desires for us to partner with Him and He will never turn away from a heart crying out to Him and for the soul pleading to be used by Him.  So don’t count yourself out, because when you feel purposeless you need to know that is a lie from the enemy who is out to destroy you.  You are loved by a God who created you on purpose, for a purpose and positioned you to live a life that impacts eternity.  Take care of the people and the things He has given you to care for today; love those He has surrounded you with in this moment; use your gifts, talents and abilities to bring glory to His Name; be present, be alert to His moving and follow His lead. 

 “Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.”  1 Corinthians 15:58

The Changing Table

It wasn’t planned and the decision wasn’t extraordinary, it was just a typical day and a realization that it was finally time.  Months ago we talked about how the day would soon come, we anticipated it and came real close to going through with it but it just wasn’t time and deep down inside my mama heart I didn’t want to rush it.  Life caught up with us, our attention was consumed with big boy undies, dashes to the potty and over-exuberant cheers of victory.  In the midst of it all, the changing table stayed right where it has been for three years – taking up much of the one bathroom that five of us share, holding washcloths, wipes and whatever anyone decided to throw on it. 

But one day, I knew it was time and that we didn’t need it anymore. 

The moving of the changing table came as a great relief until I began to scrub the wall behind it.  In that moment, in a pile of dust and random objects, the memories came flooding.  I remembered the moment it was given to us and how I imagined all the sweet-smelling babies it would hold.  With each swelling of my belly, I would anxiously, tediously set things in place upon it in preparation of their lives filling our own.  It was there through the late nights and long days, the dirtiest of messes and the added-up hours of leaning in close to smell soft skin.  It was where our babies would coo and squirm as we’d “ooo and awe.”  As they grew they would crawl up to the top to get a little closer as they’d tell us stories.   They’d stand on top to admire haircuts and wait for kisses. 

So much life and love had happened surrounding the changing table.  I sat down on a stool, looking around at a bathroom now completely undone in the process of change and in that moment joy and sorrow abided.  As my mama heart went through snapshots and years gone by, the gentle whisper came that this really is going to be alright, that better things are ahead and life requires adjusting from time to time.  God was using this picture of a parenthood milestone to give me a glimpse at the transition He’s asking us to make in our lives. 

Parenting is a thing I could understand from my human perspective.  Our children are growing and in that there is out-growing of things they once needed, things we depended on to care for them and raise them.  Many memories were made in those years of raising babies but much is to be anticipated as we transition out of the baby-phase of parenting.  Even as my heart aches at those days becoming only memories, I am rejoicing at the beauty of my children growing strong and the changing roles we take on as parents as they do. 

For months, God has been working in our hearts to trust Him beyond a perspective we can understand.  He was asking us to let go of things that we once depended on and in ways needed, places where there was certainly life and love surrounding, but places that were now in the way.  There’s an eternal perspective that we can’t quite grasp due to our humanness, a perspective that requires faith and trust in a God who knows our hearts and everything that we need. 

This day on a bathroom floor, in the midst of undoing I saw my heart.  A heart that has allowed God to mold and shape, to move out big things to make more room for Him, to rearrange and shift but also one that can get anxious in the process.  A heart that at times can slam to door shut and scream “WAIT! Are you sure?” as though God is anything other than sure. 

How silly it would have been for me to get up from that stool, get the changing table and place it back claiming I wasn’t ready for my children to outgrow it and that I liked the way it restricted our space.  What would I have looked like if I took all the things set aside to throw away and put them back, let the dust cling fast to the wall and slumped down in pride that I got it all back where it once was?  Instead I rose up from the stool and continued forward.  I cleaned.  I purged.  I made room.  Not only in our bathroom but in my heart. I decided that my small steps of considering when the day would come were no longer enough.

  “A child of God is never out of the notice of God” – Pastor Tom Sprowls, Jr.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.  See, I am doing a new thing!”  Isaiah 43:19

It is time.  Time to let go of the old, to allow memories to be enough and to open our hearts to changing.  Although we may not fully understand and it may look like an upheaval of a mess, it’s time to trust that there is freedom because of the process.   It is time to have confidence in a Father who will meet our every need as we adjust our lives to what He’s calling us to.  Time to believe that the same God who spoke creation into existence is creating another chapter of our story. 

There comes a time in all our lives when we can choose to stay in what we know or embrace the unknown where God calls.  A place that requires adjusting and changing, possibly unknown to us but certainly known to Him.  A place that is good, wholesome and revives the soul.  

And without planning and no extraordinary measures, you somehow just know it is time.

“My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.”  Psalm 121:2

"She wasn't born for greatness, she didn't go to school for it, she just learned that sometimes God has a plan so big only He can see it and all she had to do was believe.. yep, she was just a regular kid, just like you.”

-Veggie Tales

The kids were watching this movie as I was finishing writing and this was what I heard in the background.  That may just be extraordinary...

Clinging to Diapers

They say when you have multiple children that their personalities are each different and it couldn’t be more true.  Our youngest is the one who is particular and likes consistency, he’s the one who cries when it’s time to wash his blanket and isn’t a big fan of mom and dad leaving.  It took a great deal of convincing him it was okay when it was time to pack up the clothes that no longer fit to pass on to his baby cousin.  He was not pleased when they went from the laundry and into a bag, not into his drawer, and I would catch him pulling a too-small shirt back out and trying to fit it on. 

We’ve slowly been working on potty training.  One day he did it, he woke up and went running to the potty each and every time he had to go!  He continued to do so for several days but there was only one problem: his diaper.  All the convincing in the world with dramatic choo-choo’s and cars and boyhood heroes was not selling this boy on underwear.  There was no way our boy was giving up what was known and comfortable, even if it was time, even if it made sense, even if it was totally-awesome!  He clung desperately to what he wanted to hang on to even though what would be given was better.  Eventually I had to hide his diapers, in their place put the undies and stand by as he rolled on the floor trying to get back the familiar. 

As the days went by, he learned that this was his new normal.  The diapers were kept tucked away until bedtime and he began enjoying picking out what pair of undies he would wear each morning.  As a mama, I’m certainly rejoicing in the nearness of not changing messy diapers, but at the same time my heart is weeping a little as diapers make their way out of our lives. 

In the midst of this transition season of boyhood and motherhood I realized how much this spoke of a bigger picture.  How often God is doing a new thing and asking us to take hold of it, to jump in and enjoy what lies ahead, but how desperately we try to cling to the past.  This life inevitably changes, seemingly as often as the seasons do.  We no sooner get used to and acclimated to one season and a squall of the next hits us hard.  I’m guilty of spiritually laying on the floor, kicking, crying and pleading for life to remain the same, to just let me bask in the moment and not rush me onto the unfamiliar.  Yet my Father, whose plan and purpose far outweigh mine, patiently waits for my tantrum to end and for me to reach out my hand to trust him once more. 

Circumstances change, people change, relationships change, seasons change, locations change, careers change, family dynamics change…everything changes.  There certainly are some things that remain consistent throughout our lives, but as the years, days, moments pass and our lives continue on we experience transitions.  With each step we have a choice to let those things leave us bitter, leave us looking back, longing for what once was or we can embrace the new road ahead and trust our lives to a God who is Unchanging. 

“I the Lord do not change.” Malachi 3:6

Change can come in the form of something much anticipated that we have prayed for, waited for and dreamed of.  But it can also come when a loved one dies, when our lives seem to be uprooted and repositioned, unexpectedly and unchosen.  Through it all our God remains the same, the Unchangeable One.  His promises are sure and His foundation is solid.  When we root ourselves in His love and in His will, we can allow ourselves to ebb and flow within the waves of an ever-changing life.  Our security is then found on the sacred grounds of knowing that He is LORD regardless of our season.  Through the highs, we remain humble and through the lows, we remain sure.  We no longer need to be His children who are clinging to our diapers: those things we once needed, depended on and grew a liking to, the things we simply cannot hold onto forever.  We can trust that there is joy to be found in the new road ahead, a new normal that will allow us to mature and grow into who He has created us to be, all for our good and all for His glory. 

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.  See, I am doing a new thing!" Isaiah 43:19

The Blanket

As I’ve sorted through our baby things, deciding what to give to friends, what to donate and what to tuck away for keepsakes, my heart ached as I held onto the well-worn flannel receiving blankets that have swaddled each of our little ones.  Treasured within the soft linen were memories of those first days and months when our babies began their lives.  These blankets were thrown over our shoulders as we’d gently pat their backs and help ease their bellies.  Blankets that each baby was wrapped perfectly in by Daddy to remind them of the closeness they knew within my womb.  They were faded and stained and the sweet smell of innocence still lingered.  I held them close, remembering those precious moments.  As our little ones have grown, some of these were used by our girl to wrap up her baby dolls as she’d take the role of mama and fill it so well.  They’ve wrapped a cat or two, been used for capes and made their way through each stage as we’ve tried to keep up with the fleeting days.  This mama who doesn’t hang on to much, couldn’t bear the thought of letting them go so I tucked them away. 

One day when our town was buried in over two feet of snow, I pulled them out again.  Among these I also had one that was my husband's when he was a baby and one that had been mine.  I didn’t want these blankets to be stored away for memories to be recalled later.  There were still memories to be made.  I decided to stitch them together, just as our family has been. 

Beings that I’m not an experienced seamstress I laid it out on our kitchen table how I wanted it to end up and stared, confused and scared to mess it up.  I debated on whether or not I should do it or if I should pass it on to any number of well-able seamstresses I know.  I called in my husband and asked him for advice on what to do and as usual he gave me a place to start and helped me each time I would get stuck.  At one point we had it clamped to the doorway to hang straight so I could pin it.  I even sewed the wrong ends together and had to strip several feet of seam and begin again. One by one I pieced our blankets together and called on my mom and quilter-friend when I needed their advice.  Somehow in the midst of all my mistakes it was still coming together and turning out better than I had imagined. 

This blanket…

There is unevenness where I wanted straight lines.

There are bumps where I wanted it to be smooth.

             Mistakes were made and there are tears hidden beneath view.

             It isn’t by a professional but by one whose heart is swollen with love.

             There are memories laced in the fading and stains. 

             It isn’t perfect but it is ours.

As I was carefully and slowly finishing the seams and nearing being completed, I realized how much this blanket compared to mamahood.  I started out much the same way when our first son was born, confused and fearful of not getting it right.  In many ways I’d ask my husband, who had more experience with babies than I, what to do next.  Many things involved in this role that I could have passed on to outside help, to others who may be more qualified, experienced or knowledgeable than I, but things that by the grace of God I have been able to fill for my family.  We haven’t done it all the typical way, we’ve had to make our own path, find what has worked for us and find where God has willed us.  We’ve utterly messed up, got it all wrong and have had to seemingly start again.  I am daily brought to my knees pleading for help and asking advice from a Father who knows the depths of their hearts far greater than I.  

There is a God piecing together the story of our lives into His Bigger Story. 

                There will be unevenness but He will make your paths straight. (Proverbs 3:6)

                There will be bumps but He will make rough places smooth.  (Isa. 45:2)

                Mistakes will be made and hearts will be torn but He is close to those hidden in Him. (Ps 34:18)

                A story made by the Creator of all things, the Father whose hearts is swollen with love for His Children.

                Embrace the worn-in, weary, stained places that have brought you where you are.

                This life isn’t perfect, but it is ours to live.    

He is creating a beautiful masterpiece within yours…

 

WalMart, Pajamas and Grace

I’m outnumbered every day.  When my husband leaves for work, there’s three tiny bodies with big, big lives filling up our home and one mama trying to keep up. This season, of having little ones that depend on you for most everything, is a rough one.  Yes, it is extremely rewarding with hugs and snuggles and being wanted, with seeing them grow and their personalities shine, but it is extremely exhausting.               

I used to be brave enough to take my kids along for grocery trips, but since having our third it doesn’t happen much anymore.  My husband and I loaded the kids up and went to WalMart.  They were worn out from the holiday and so were we but it was a trip we needed to take and for the most part everything was going smoothly.  We were on our way to check out, anxious to leave, and we forgot cereal.  My husband walked to the back of the store to pick it up while the kids and I continued on.  There we were, men’s clothing on one side and what seemed to be one-thousand-tempting-displays-of-sweets on the other.  I felt like a walking circus, as though the store hired me to be their customers’ source of entertainment for the evening.  It was ten minutes of out-numbering that seemed like an eternity.  Our youngest was protesting about being confined to the cart, he wanted Daddy back and he wasn’t going to wait.  Now we were wrestling.  Our oldest was admiring the sweets, laughing as he said “what about this one mom?”  He knew I was stressed and was trying to relieve me but it was having the opposite effect.  Then there was our little girl, she was dancing in her own world, carefree of who was watching, what was surrounding her or of anything else.  She twirled down the aisle as I directed her each time a cart needed to pass.  Her dancing was sweet but I couldn’t play the role of traffic director for much longer.  Ahead of us were two elderly women looking at pajamas right in the middle of the aisle.  They were unsteady on their feet and I surely didn’t want to risk squeezing pass them in what little room we had.  At the sound of my “traveling circus” they both looked up and watched us draw closer.  I rounded the kids close to the cart, which was more like corralling chickens and we stepped off to the side.  The ladies watched and to my surprise, smiles spread across their faces. 

 Grace. 

They walked on by, and as pleased as could be one turned to me and said “How are you doing Mom?!”  My heart was instantly relieved at their free giving of understanding, of kindness, of patience in two simple smiles and a few kind words.   I wanted to remember their glistening eyes, wide smiles and the one woman’s gentle voice.  I wanted to remember the grace that she passed to me in one quick exchange.  Because one day, when my kids aren’t so small, I will pass a mama with her hands and heart full.  I don’t want to treat her and her children as an inconvenience to me and my schedule, as so many do.  Because you see, us mamas of little ones do have our hands full and we are often outnumbered.  

You may wonder why she brought the kids along or why she doesn’t have help.  I have a loving and more-than-helpful husband but that other mama you may pass may be going it alone.  Maybe her and her husband work different shifts to help with the cost of childcare.  Maybe she doesn’t have a reliable support system.  She may be silently wishing she could have come shopping alone because it would be so much easier and faster that way.  I’ve done it before.

You may wonder why the kids aren’t in bed, but maybe this is the only opportunity she has to shop.  Maybe, just maybe, she chose to go late to avoid the glares of inconvenienced shoppers.  I’ve done it before. 

You think she could have at least got out of her pajamas but maybe she hasn’t had time to do laundry.  Maybe she chose to spend time helping with homework or singing a lullaby instead of bent over a washer.  Maybe she wore all her decent clothes earlier that week and spends little on herself in order to care for her kids.  Maybe she has had a week of sleepless nights and literally forgot to get dressed before leaving the house.  I’ve done it before. 

You judge her parenting because her kids are whining and loud but maybe it’s been a hard day for all of them.  Maybe they are well-behaved children who are simply having a bad day.  Maybe mama did appear a little more like a raging bull instead of the tender-hearted parent she is, maybe she’s stressed and exhausted.  I’ve done it before.

I’ve been “that” mama so many times, because it’s part of being a mama.  My kids have been “those kids” so many times, because it’s part of being a kid.  Whether it’s a mama or a dad – us parents are far from perfect.  And I don’t ever want to forget it.  Whether it’s a boy or a girl, an only child or a “quiver full” – those kiddos are far from perfect.  And I don’t ever want to forget it. 

Maybe that parent and those kids are everything you assume they may be – maybe they don’t mind that they haven’t showered in a week and wear their pajamas out of the house.  Maybe they do spend their money on habits when it would be more wisely spent on childcare.  Maybe they wouldn’t come close to receiving a “parent-of-the-year” award and possibly not even come close to the running.  Maybe their kids haven’t been taught respect and manners.  But even then, does this give us reason to judge them, dismiss them, to insist they should have never had children?  But we do.  And these are the parents who need us to rise above the most.

Parents of little ones don’t need our judgmental attitudes, our gossiping tongue, or our inconvenienced glares.  They need gentleness, reassurance, a little bit (no, a lot) of encouragement and more than anything, a tangible Jesus.   They need us to be like Him, to reach them in their worst and through the ugly, mess of it all to lend a hand and help a heart.

The next time you see that pajama-mama, give her a smile, lend her a hand, hold a door, return her cart, let her know she’s doing a good job, please find a way to extend grace.  Your choice of grace just may change her day, change her heart, change that families world. 

"Generous hands are blessed hands."  Proverbs 22:9

"Therefore, encourage one another and build each other up."  1 Thessalonians 5:11

Treasure in the Dirty Places

It’s a mama’s worst nightmare – the dirt filled spaces beneath the cupboards, the oven, the fridge, and in the cushions of the couch.  Those places that might label us as less-than, as a failure or a mess.  The spaces that we often forget when we clean house.  The areas that are just too hard to get to.  The places where no one looks, possibly out of respect, but maybe also out of fear of just what may be found!  But we’ve all had at least one time when a visitor was searching for a lost set of keys, or something of the sort, and dared to lift the cushion...and as the cushion lifted, we can remember vividly how our hearts seemed to pause, waiting for the horror to be revealed:  would it simply be a coin they found or would it be a melted chocolate bar or something even worse?!  I bet that no matter what they saw, you probably shared a good laugh and I bet they came over again.  Why? 

Because it’s completely normal.

It’s one of his favorite things to do, he gets the flashlight and searches for anything worth finding.  He laid flat out on the floor and looked under everything intently.  I watched and felt my heart well with joy at his innocence. 

He was treasure hunting.  In the dirty places.

My boy wasn’t searching the toy box we just cleaned up, he was looking in the places I would rather turn a blind eye toward.  He pointed and repeated “ball, ball, mom-mom, ball,” as he excitedly beckoned me to pull it out for him.   I got down on my knees and looked past all the…well…you know, and got the ball for my precious child. 

Oh, how my heart needed the simple words He whispered.  I’ve been in such desperate need of His grace, of His forgiveness and of His love.  Yet I feel so unworthy as the “dirt-filled” places of my heart are revealed as His Holy light shines like a flood-light. I want to take all the times I raise my voice, lose my temper, and fall disturbingly short and brush them somewhere no one else can see.  But there’s almost always the eyes of those I love the most.  Little lives looking for an example to follow and reflecting that which they are given.  There’s a husband who just lavishes love upon this heart who is anything but deserving of it.  I am guilty of being imperfect, of most-often feeling as though I have nothing to offer and fearing that somehow I will let Him down.  I want to hide it, to cover it all and invite Him into a heart that is put-together, that pleases Him with good works and good words and feels like I have something good to offer.

But the Truth is that He wants none of that. 

          He didn’t come for my good works. 

          He didn’t come for the good words I want to speak. 

          He didn’t come for the times I feel good and feel like opening up my heart to Him.   

No, He came for it all. 

Because He alone is good.  It is His strength that is made perfect in my weakness.  It is His mercy that is made new every morning.  It is His grace that is sufficient.  What pleases Him most is when I lay down my life for His sake.  Not when I pick it all up and simply hand Him pieces that, from my earth-bound perspective, may fit sufficiently into His eternal plan.  Somehow I lose sight of the cross and I try to be god of my own life, planning and tidying places that can only be washed by His blood.  Un-necessary striving in a work that's already been completed on the cross.

 It is in the willingly open heart that beauty can be found.  The life that is laid at the foot of the cross to be used by the God who was willing to send His Only Son and pour grace over our aching souls.  Grace that says we are enough, even in the broken and fallen state we are in.  We are good because of His goodness. 

 Just like my boy was seeking through all the dirty, hidden places to find the treasure of a blue ball, our God seeks us.  He looks through all the muck and mire, the places no one else dare to look, the places where shame and guilt dwell.  His light floods it until treasure is found.  He is the One who makes all things new, who relentlessly seeks the lost and finds treasure in the most unexpected places.  He sees our hearts in the condition they are in, honestly, vulnerably and He loves us just the same.   

Because those dirty places?  Those places we think only we keep hidden? 

Well, they are completely normal.

They are part of this fallen world and we all have them.  What matters most is what we choose to do with them.  Will we stay hidden and settle for a life of less-than?  Or will we trust in His goodness and lay it all before Him as a treasure to be found by the Most-High, Holy King?  As His light dispels the darkness of our hearts, we shine for Him.  We no longer hang our heads with veiled faces, hoping no one notices or sees us for who we are.  It is through Him that we are made whole, where our confidence is placed and where we find life to the full.   He comes close to His precious children and He shows us the places that need His touch and that’s where the treasure is found.  It’s where the most brilliant stones lay waiting. 
 

 

“The LORD does not look at the things people look at. 

People look at outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.”  1 Samuel 16:7

 

"For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost."  Luke 19:10

“Let your light so shine before men that they may see your moral excellence and your praiseworthy, noble, and good deeds and recognize and honor and praise and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” Matthew 5:16 AMP

My Dearest Isaiah,

I often wonder who you would be today.  But I have to remind myself who you are.

I wonder if you’d be like your brother, bounding with energy and limitless curiosity and imagination.  But you get to run free, free of limitations and restraints.  You don’t have to imagine because you see it all - more than we can imagine as we’re restricted to this world.

I wonder how different life would be different with you, how much our lives would be changed if you had arrived - healthy, bloody, crying and quivering - full term.  But your “due date” was figured by our earth-bound expectation.  You age is not counted by years flipping past on a calendar.  You were not full to term but your life was full of love.  Immense love.

I wonder if you would have a wide smile and silly disposition that would make our days brighter.  But you have brightened hundreds of souls, brought them hope in the story of you.   God has used your brief life to continue His work.

I wonder if you would have the same dirty hands your brother and dad have - boy hands, hands that don’t scrub clean.  But yours are the hands and feet of Jesus in our world, continuing to spread the message of the hope and healing we find only through Him.  I see you written on the hearts of those lives your story, your momentary existence has touched.

I wonder what it would had been like to have met you.  But I one day will and no midwife, no nurse will hand you to me.  Instead, when I am called Home, there you will be.

I wonder who you would be but I know who you are.

You are the first life that ever planted in my womb to be grown and nourished by my self.

You are the life that forever changed us.

      Your Daddy hugs me longer and holds me tighter because of you.
       
      You have given us hearts that understand, hearts that have broken and hearts
                           that have found a Healer.

You are a gift from God my child.  He chose to bless us with the opportunity to care for you, to fill with love to you and to break for you.  He gave us you.

Your story is the story I tell.  Because you, my dearest Isaiah, mattered to me.

I loved you with everything I had.  I dreamed of you a thousand dreams.

As you have life fully, freely, abundantly with your sibling, we will continue to allow your fraction of a time with us to be used for His glory and His good.

I often wonder who you would be today.  But I know, I know who you are.

Love, 
Mama

Bath Time For Kitty

Peyton’s favorite toy is a small white kitty in which I think he believes is real.  He does everything with the kitty that we do with our real kitty, including giving it a bath. Almost daily he says “Mom, my kitty is dirty, can I give him a bath?” and usually he’s allowed. The last time the kitty got a bath with him, I gave Jayden her small pink puppy to bath. 

Which bring us to the day her kitty got a bath.

It was another Wednesday which meant Peyton had Cubbies at church.  That morning I sat down with him to go over his lesson while Jayden finished up her oatmeal in the kitchen. As we were going over his Bible verse, she walked in the room and I quickly realized she was not finishing her oatmeal as I had thought. There she was, in her nightgown, holding her soaking wet black kitty which was dripping all over the floor. She was as proud as could be having bathed her kitty just like her big brother!

“Uh oh! He’s dripping all over, let’s get a towel and dry him off,” I said.

Conveniently enough there lie a dish towel beside us on the floor. She picked up the towel, wrapped up the kitty, sat him on a stool and scrubbed him up. Not seeing this as much of a big deal, I let her go and went back to Peyton’s Cubbies lesson. She finished drying her kitty then sat near us to listen in.

When we were all finished, I figured I better go tackle the mess of water that I had assumed was all over the bathroom.

If only it were that simple.

I followed a trail of wetness through the kitchen, into the bathroom, and right up to what I expected to be the sink.  Instead, my eyes stopped at the toilet. 

The toilet.

A toilet that also happened to be filled with pee, wet toilet paper in and out, and surrounded by a drenched floor. This is the dreaded moment when I realized that little black kitten had gotten a bath in the toilet and my little girl, all this time, had been covered in water and pee. 

Into the bathroom she came, carrying her kitty, proud and ready to show Mama just how she bathed it all by herself.

“Jayden….did you bath your kitty in the potty?” I asked.

She shook her head yes without a care in the world.  It was now bath time for both a little girl and her kitty.  So I got her in the tub, put the kitty in basket with a load of laundry, and cleaned up the mess. 

I find myself relating to my girl.

Times when I felt I had a good idea, went ahead with it, did it on my own and when finished, looked at what I had done with pride.  Haven't you? 

Thinking, "Look what I've done!  What an accomplishment!"

Then, just like when Jayden brought me the kitty, we decide to let our Father in on what we've done.  We go to Him full of pride, ready to receive His blessing.  What we usually find out is that we've made a mess.  Our idea, as good as it seemed at the time, created a mess that ultimately He, Our Father, will have to clean up.  What we didn't realize at the time was our good idea was just that - our good idea.  We acted before we sought council from our Father.  

Our ideas, no matter how great, will soon turn into another mess without prayerful consideration and His guidance.  We need to seek Him first, spend time in prayer, receive His blessings before jumping into our "good idea."  

Because our "good idea" may not be such a good idea after all. 

Thank God for his grace and infinite love for us.  He helps clean up the messes we've made of our lives.  He washes us of our sins.  He gently wipes away our guilt and makes us new, only asking that we seek forgiveness and turn our hearts toward Him. 

Now when you ask Jayden, "Did you wash your kitty in the potty?" she shakes her head yes.  

But if you ask her, "Are you allowed to bath your kitty in the potty?" she will tell you no, understanding the potty isn't the best choice for a good bathing.    

Let us learn to seek God first, trusting that His ways are best.  Just as parents want only the best for our children, God, our Heavenly Father, wants only the best for us.

"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the LORD." Isaiah 55:8

"Guide me in Your truth and faithfulness and teach me, for You are the God of my salvation; for You I wait expectantly all day long." Psalm 25:5