Take a Minute

Yesterday, Abigail woke from a much needed nap earlier than Simon. She doesn't wake ready for the next thing. She needs a few minutes. She came into the living room and curled up in the sunny warmth of the green chair. We sit it close to the wall because sometimes you feel as if you will be dumped out on your head, as if your body weight has somehow made the chair determine to take revenge. She started staring out the window.

What are you thinking about?

Nothing. I'm just looking at the pine cones. 

Do you want me to get the tree book so we can figure out what it is? 

Yes.

I retrieved the tree book from our library. Smiling while remembering that I got it for competing in the 4-H National Forestry Competition. Don't tell my forester father, but I can't identify the conifer standing on the east side of our house. We got the book out and narrowed the tree to the spruce family. Beyond that I can't tell. No matter what it is a sparsely-limbed and poorly-coned spruce. We identified the other two spruces we could see from our window.

It was a sweet time cuddled in the chair, looking and talking and guessing. I am so glad I didn't walk passed her. I am encouraged to remember to take a minute to be with them. It fills us all up.

Question Tuesday!

I ponder a lot and question myself a lot, do you? Especially in my role as mommy, I find myself always asking "could I have done this better?" or "why did I say that?" and so on. I believe in extending myself grace as the Lord does, as I am human, but I also believe in improving where I can. I know that it's no surprise to God when I mess up (nothing is a surprise to Him!) but it is a surprise to me!
One thing I really am trying to focus on with my son is actually focusing on my son. I'm usually found juggling about 12 things- my phone, (ooh, a text!), lunch, picking something up, AND talking to my little guy. Not often am I just looking him in the eye and talking to him. Did you know that that is one of the key ingredients in feeling included and part of a family? Sincere conversation and personal time spent. And yet, does he feel that when I'm texting and dusting and talking? I know it's not realistic to sit all day and look into his eyes while we converse, but do I do it much at all? This is what I'm working to improve.

Do you have anything you want to improve in your mommy-ing?

Unconditional

Love never fails

1 Corinthians 13:8

When I Am Kind

When My Heart Is Ugly

God will never love you more than He does right now, nor will He ever love you less.

For by grace you have been saved through faith; 

and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God;

not as a result of works, that no one should boast. 

Ephesians 2:8-9

When I Speak Kindly

When I Yell at Little Ones

There is nothing you can do to get God to love you more than He already does, nor is there anything you can do that will cause Him to love you less.

Look the level in the jars doesn't change! It is like His love.

I don't need to take advantage of it by staying on the right, but when I creep over there He still loves me!
Sometimes I need to be reminded.

Why Come?

Before I became a mom, I worked for the YMCA as the supervisor of an after-school program in an inner-city environment. I could mother a building full of children ranging in age from four to seventeen! I thought motherhood would be a breeze. I didn't realize one very important, even crucial factor--

those children went home after three hours.

Nor did I realize how much I relied on the staff of five that worked with me creating this program. They had ideas and the ability to clearly communicate those ideas. They listened to stories and helped with the daily ins-and-outs of being surrounded by children. On rotten days when I was less than I wanted to be, they
helped me feel normal,

because they had those sorts of days too.

Then I became a mom. I had it down.

• Till Abigail hated to eat.
• Till I tried to get her to enjoy eating, every day for the past four and 5/6th years, 1764 days (Yes, I did the math.)
• Till Simon came along and searches for ways to create a new and boy-kind of chaos.
• Till . . .

Really, I was a great mom. I had it together for all of two hours and 30 minutes (the recovery time for a C-section). While I was lying in the recovery room imagining my little girl, chatting with the nurse, waiting for my toes to react to my brain, I was with it.
I didn't stay "with it" very long. I moaned with a pillow over my head instead of getting up. A little girl we had waited and prayed for became a burden, a heavy burden I did not enjoy and wasn't bonding with. And I faked it. There were many people who prayed with us for this child, and I didn't want to disappoint them by being remotely insufficient for this task of raising children.

Then I started talking, and I've kept talking ever since. See, this motherhood thing is hard. It is hard to wake up to little voices in your head before your own voice is in your head. It is hard to remember that mommy is also woman and wife. It is hard to not swear when the toilet is so clogged that it overflows onto the bathroom floor. It is hard to make dinner everyone can enjoy and to insist that children try everything. It is hard to hear the good and the bad about everything that comes close to your child and to then make some sort of decision about it.
This motherhood thing is also lonely. It is why I keep talking when my mom needs to take her call waiting. It is why I still get a little pouty when my husband leaves for work. It is why at odd and random parts of the day I hurry to the computer to check blog updates when I know everything is updated by 10 AM.

And MOPS is a place where we can come and be and share and talk and take care of ourselves and each other and get ready for the next day. You see, we weren't meant to be moms alone. For centuries, communities were built in such a way as to encourage womanly togetherness--going to the well, front porches, quilting bees. I can hear the chatter as they went, sharing the joys and burdens of mothering children.

And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. 

A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart. 

Ecclesiastes 4:12

God knows we need one another; He created us. (It gives Him the inside track). I will admit that one little one can do me in and two can make it that much more difficult. But drawing on the strength, experience, wisdom, and joy of other mothers equips me to enter into the lives of my children as a whole person. That is why I seek out other mothers. That is the meaning behind our trips to the library and play dates. It is why I come to MOPS.

Reminder:

MOPS 

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

6:00

Cherry Tree Alliance Church

Some Lessons Teach the Teacher

The little girl walked up to me. Mommy, I accidentally wrote in the book.

Well, Abigail, what does that mean?

She hangs her head, A spanking.

Yes, what book did you write in?

The Apple Strudel Soldier.

A library book.

Why did you write in The Apple Strudel Soldier?

I thought it was a coloring book.

I could tell she was searching for a reason that sounded acceptable. A coloring book is an appropriate place to write. Things were getting out of hand, I had to tackle the “accident” and the writing and if we continued this line of questioning I am sure we would get into lying and other subjects this Monday morning mother wasn't prepared for.

We were sitting face to face--she on the couch, I on the ottoman. She was worrying over the consequences. I wanted to address the disobedience and “tweaking” of the truth.

Abigail, you knew this wasn't a coloring book. It is your favorite library book. We will have to tell Miss Diane when we take it back.

Do I have to have a spanking? She asked tearfully.

Yes, Honey, you have to have a spanking. You know you are not allowed to write in books.

A quiet voice--Ask to see what she wrote.

Abigail, show me where you wrote.

She opened the book to the title page and pointed to a pen mark not a centimeter in length. Eyelashes are longer. The frayed edges of this old book are longer.

Oh, Abby. I can't spank you for this.

Relief covers her face. There will be no spanking.

Mommy, I'm sorry I wrote in the book.

Oh, Sweetheart, I forgive you. I am sorry I scared you, that I was going to spank you without cause. Will you forgive me?

Yes. She replies.

Mommy, I'm sorry I wrote in the book. Will we need to tell Miss Diane?

No, Honey, we won't.

Her eyes give it away. Her body tense beside me gives it away. She isn't convinced. Not of the forgiveness. Not of the love. Not of the relationship damaged in disobedience, but repaired in forgiveness.

To read more please visit A Lettered Legacy.

Failed

I make plans for myself and my family. Sometimes those plans are verbalized. Often they are unwritten subtleties, unconscious expectations.

These are my enemies-these silent objectives.

They taunt me when unmet. They use names like unworthy and inadequate. On occasion they whip out the really powerful adjectives to titles I already claim: bad mother, loser wife.

Unspoken goals have powerful voices.

All too often I agree. I add my own label: failure. I claim that name for myself, worrying that my husband is disappointed and angry and that my children are being scarred beyond recognition. I carry that weight with me day in and day out till I can no longer stand under the burden.

I cry.

I seek out my husband asking if I am the failure I believe I am. I don't believe his answer.
I ask if he is disappointed in me, angry with my performance. I don't believe his answer.
I question my mothering listing all the times I could have done things differently. I don't believe his answer.

I pray that this burden be lifted, that I be forgiven for being less that everything, that I be made a wife and a mother worthy of these dear ones in my family. And I read:

Not that we are adequate in ourselves to consider anything as coming from ourselves,
but our adequacy comes from God.
2 Corinthians 3:5

And He speaks.

And I rest assured that in spite of my shortcomings, in spite of my weaknesses, in spite of my inadequacy, He will care for my family. For He loves them more than I ever could. He created them just as He created me. He knows that we together are but dust. In His love for all of us--husband, wife, children--He will make me adequate for this call to motherhood.

No Excuse

Alright Ladies,

For those of you who claimed more than one love language, there is a handy-dandy little quiz right here.
The 30 Second Assessment. Incidentally, there is a quiz there about your apology language here.

The 5 Love Languages Quiz

and just for good measure, in case they are in conflict,
GreaterQuest-5 Love Languages Quiz.

Check it out and I expect reports :).