You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June, 2007.
So, before I was even out of the bed today, LittleBit was up and rattling around at warp speed. Part of her whirlwind was the procurement of a long bendy straw (like, out of a waterbottle thing). Said straw makes mirror-shattering, animal-cringing, ear-bursting screams when blown with great force. Guess how hard she was blowing it?
After brief concern that we’d Raptured (or that the animal community was going to launch counterattack), I bumbled out of bed and asked her why she was waking everyone up this way.
“Well, it’s just that, I know we’re a family, but when Daddy’s gone, I just get mad and upset and anxious and I just want to make things hard for YOU. But then you punish me because that’s what parents do to their children and I can’t scream and argue and I have to be nice and, well, I just want to figure this out so I can tell you the most important thing.”
Ummm… psychologically speaking, I can see that D’s coming and going is weighing on her differently. Parentally speaking, I’d say she nailed it — when she gets upset and lashes out, she will be punished (because that’s what parents do, right??) and she’s not allowed to pitch a fit about it. At least she knows, right? And I’m so proud that my five year old is “trying to find herself,” seeking to discover what’s most important so she can share it with us (and others, I’m sure).
As the Mother of the Year candidate, what did I do?
Told her she needed to get on her knees and ask Jesus for wisdom and help so she could make good decisions. She did.
And I went to get a (much needed) cup of coffee.
I’m not sure if we need to brace ourselves for 13yo or if we’ll just have 10 years of experience by the time we get there.
Ok… only my bloggity brain fits in the thimble (the rest of it needs four clothes baskets; unfortunately, the laundry (like my thoughts) is running over, hence the blog).
did I actually figure out how to post a picture???
If so, this is a picture from Cape Town last summer.
EDIT: Well, I see it posted the size of Rushmore… now to get things scaled better… oy vey…
“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”
“everything beautiful in its time.” He’s done it, hasn’t He? Everything.
Sitting at an inanimate computer, wholly alive with a vast world mere seconds and mouse-strokes away, and God has made it, called it beautiful. In our generation, we have the privilege of worshipping freely not only through our primary body of believers, but across the globe through webcasts of services, podcasts of sermons, forums of those Kingdom-bound wherever they are, email lists of prayer needs and hearty praises. Beautiful.
“For such a time as this” you and I are privy to the gift of knowing someone whose face we’ve never seen — and might not see in this life — and encouraging them; iron-sharpening-iron over multiple time zones. What a privilege! I remember my grandmother, a product of the Depression, describing the extravagance of pen-pal letters during the leanest of times; how those few pennies spent on the tiny stamp conveyed blessing that encouraged for weeks to come until she had pennies to spend on one to reply. Surely, those simple postcards and hand scripted letters were beautiful.
In this time, it is beautiful that Heather has seen such an outpouring of prayer and love as she battles cancer and honestly shares her amazing faith with all who read. It is beautiful that Jeff and Dawn have been called to bless and “ignite” entrepreneurial believers — in their businesses, yes; in their walk with Jesus, even more so. It is beautiful that artists like Third Day, Casting Crowns, and Barlow Girl have forums where believers, young and old, come to ask hard questions and share life altering Scripture. It is beautiful that sites like Choosing Home and Christian Women Online encourage women to excel in God’s callings as women of noble character, wives of virtue, and mothers of love. It is beautiful that the passion for Christ of pastors and teachers like John Piper, Chuck Swindoll, Louis Giglio, Beth Moore, Joyce Meyer, Kay Arthur, and Nancy Leigh DeMoss is available (and contagious) any time of day. And it is beautiful that our home churches (big, small, or in between) are online and accessible to those looking for a local place to find eternal answers.
Personally, it is beautiful to me that through this box on my lap or the one on our desk, the most powerful prayer warriors I know, the best friends I’ve ever had, the “unmet” encouragers, family I miss and those I see regularly are all united, as we were intended to be. Rejoicing with one another, bearing one another’s burdens… this is Kingdom life. Right now, I do see darkly — through my circumstances, my understanding of His will, my walking out of His grace — but one day I will see Him face to face. And those faces I love will be there, too; those I’ve seen here, and those I’ll only see at Home.
Father God, thank You for the privilege of living in the age of total communication. Generations before us could never imagine the possibilities we are given through this technology. LORD, You are so Holy and so sweet to make everything beautiful — Thank You. I pray that as You call Your children to unity — in our homes, in our churches, in our communities, and across this globe — we will delight in each other’s gifts and seek to bear one another in weaknesses. God, there is a purpose in Your will and in Your Word; please teach me how to use whatever vessel You place in my hand to further that purpose. I love You, LORD. And THANK YOU for Your life poured out; on the Cross, through the Spirit, yesterday, today, and forevermore. Amen.
This morning, my fabulous husband took our Angels with him to go work on a construction project (our children are very well acquainted with power tools) which allowed me to grocery shop alone (Can you see my smile???? CAN YOU???? Heeheeeheeee!!!) and take my fabulous best friend to lunch. When I was all done, I called to see when he wanted me to come get the Angels. IttyBitty wanted to stay with his Daddy and Daddy’s friends, but my sweet girl was VERY ready to come home (there’s no air there).
Once at home, LittleBit and I unloaded groceries and cleaned the kitchen. Then, we sat down to play LeapFrog Bingo! After the first round, we decided to switch from shapes to addition facts and I suggested she get our abacus as a visual. She hopped up and ran down the stairs, stopping halfway to point her finger in the air, eyebrows raised, and say, “Now, Mommy if you want to play with the coins while I’m gone, that’s fine with me. You can even play with my coins. You can play with the color coins, too. Just be sure you put them back when you hear me thump-thump up the stairs, ok?” I said thank you for the generosity and waited for her return.
And it just made me smile, both when she said it and when she thump-thumped up the stairs again. Little Girl, Big Heart. Tiny wonder of her Mommy’s life, Biggest blessing we’ve ever known.
LORD, she is a miracle! And after the week we’ve had, today was the most undeserved gift; THANK YOU. Thank You for an afternoon to slow down and enjoy LittleBit, all by ourselves, puttering about and dancing and laughing and talking. God, I can’t fathom what it will be like when she’s fifteen, but seeing how fast these first five years have passed, I know it won’t feel long; please continue to burn off the dross in me and continue to bless and grow that sweet heart in her so that we’ll enjoy each other’s company as much then as we did today. I would love to pray that You keep them both little, cuddle-able, close, “safe” — but we both know that’s not Your plan or Your will. God, help us guide them to You with arms open wide, fingers spread out, ready to receive all that You have for them and for us (and ready to release, one step at a time, ’til their Yours alone and we’re walking beside). I love You, Jesus! Thank You for the gift of today!
You would have been 65 today.
“Nanny” to two little angels, retiree of the banking industry, avid reader, godly advice giver. Biblical scholar and boo-boo kisser. Cheesecake connoisseur, iced tea expert, and two-part kitchen harmony. Laughter personified.
We would celebrate by going out to dinner; you would have picked Truett’s or Cracker Barrel “So those babies can eat something.” We’d have them sing to you and you’d ask me something about the house so you could quietly slip your ice cream down to the little ones with a wink. On the way out of the door, you’d wordlessly hand me your “pocketbook” and say “Alright, ya’ll have to hold my hands, I get lost easy.” You’d lean down and kiss IttyBitty’s forehead when he tried to jump the way out instead of walk, but you’d never drop LittleBit’s hand; you’d stand back up to smile down at her and wink once more.
Though whiter in color, the wave across your forehead would still curl toward your eyes; “Now, I wish it would go ahead and rain so my hair can get back into shape. Alright now, you buckled in? Well, now, Sarah, I can’t find my pocketbook…” Here it is, Mama.
We’d get back to the house and IttyBitty would shout to you that there’s a cake on the table, but you’d still act surprised by the time we got there. You’d spend the next few minutes telling them what a WONDERFUL job they’d done on the icing and sprinkles, then they’d both beg to help you blow out the candles. I, of course, would be saying no while D lit them. We would all sing and you would grab little hands, raise your eyebrows, and all three of you would blow to beat the band. And you’d wink up at me, “You can’t ask a child not to blow out candles, Honey!” Instead of eating the first piece, you’d take one bite, close your eyes, “mmmmm” and announce that it’s THE best cake you’ve ever had while spooning the icing-thick bites into little bird mouths. I’m not sure you ever ate a whole piece of your own cake on your actual birthday; you’ve always been a good sharer.
Before bed, you’d read them three stories (one for each child and then, “Let’s read one more — Nanny’s not sleepy yet!”). I would shake my head in the doorway (because Mommy is sleepy) and watch them lay on your arms and wrestle for lap space. After sweet prayers and goodnight sugars, you and I would flop on the couch. “D, you just feel free to go on down and watch your program. We’ll stay up here in case the children need something.” He knows they won’t; you do too.
We would sit on the couch and talk about anything and everything. You’d once more tell me one of the same stories GreatKate used to tell, then you’d laugh because she told it over and over. You would tell me how beautiful and smart LittleBit is and how smart and funny IttyBitty is; you’d suddenly think of something I should do for D because “Now, he works hard! That boy doesn’t any let grass grow under him a’tall!” I would agree with you; “Ok now, you do it. I’ll call you tomorrow and see if I can help you with the Angels.”
By 11pm, we’d both be fading and I would try hard to get you to just spend the night. “Lord, no! Those babies need a normal routine when they wake up and I need to get back and finish some things. Oh! And Kat’s going to call me tomorrow, you know she and Jay are coming up next weekend, and we have to figure out…” You’d give me fifty details in less than five minutes about next weekend, what I’ll need to bring to dinner after church, what you found in your house that LittleBit could probably fit into. I would listen but not hard; I’d call you the first time tomorrow morning at 9, as usual.
After you picked up your purse and I shoved a piece of cake into your hands (“Sarah, why on EARTH do I need to take this home?! I need it like I need another hole in my head! And those children…”), I would make you promise me you’d call when you got back to the house. You’d remind me that I am NOT the Mama; we’d hug and kiss on the lips and you’d drive home. And you’d call when you got there.
“I am so sorry I won’t get to see you get married or rock your babies. But I know the kind of woman you’ll be, and I’m so proud of you. You just think of me when you’re holding them and I’ll be looking forward to meeting them when we all come Home!”
Happy Birthday, Mama. I love you.
I have NO clue how to change things around on my blog. At all. And, as an auditory learner, I’m having trouble with the written directions I’ve found here at WordPress and other sites.
If I knew how, I would put a couple of pictures on my basic template; I’d likely add tags for some of my favorite blogs as well. I would also post pictures of the fun we’re having here — it might be Shock-and-Awe for the FlyLady, but it would make any other visitors feel MIGHTY good about their own pads.
Also on the IDK list — I would love to stick a music code in, change the way links look within posts, find out what “post slug” means, etc etc etc. I think I need a Blanager — a blog manager. Don’t know if any such specialist exists, but I think that’s what I need.
Anyway, back to “deeper” thoughts next time. I’m gonna hit that “slug” button and see what happens (think I’ll need to pour some salt?)
and He requires kindness of me.
Apparently, I didn’t major in kindness. I majored in niceness. Raised a girl in the “real” South, niceness was obligatory; you smile when you meet others’ eyes, you ask about the checkout girl’s children, you know as many church people’s names as possible, you make or bake when someone is sick, you know fifteen ways to tell someone the truth without hurting them in the process (#1– “Bless your heart!”).
But kindness is separate matter.
Where niceness is convenient, kindness costs.
Where niceness is quickly appreciated, kindness is often unseen and unacknowledged.
Where niceness is temporary, kindness involves investment.
And leave it to my children to so beautifully — albeit, painfully — teach me that I majored in the one less Biblical.
We just spent 10 days in Europe on a business/pleasure trip without our Angels. Stunning, beautiful, amazing, a complete gift — and very, very hard. I LONGED for my little ones every day. I journaled to You, Father, over and over about what You wanted to teach me in their absence.
And then, mercifully, WE CAME HOME!!!! 
And then, ironically, we came back to reality.
In our home, reality is that though Daddy travels constantly consistently (check your address bar), Mommy is NOT supposed to leave. When Mommy leaves for more than 12 hours, small ones are GREATLY offended and feel it is appropriate to “punish” said Mommy by abandoning all manners and proceeding with their own plans at all costs.
There’s a movie title for this — Reality Bites. Unfortunately, that’s taken.
For the past several days, I have been fighting tooth and nail (Rescue Hero and Polly Pocket) to gain control of the messy interpersonal situation. Under our roof. Here’s where you remember that I majored in niceness. Did you know that niceness only lasts about 18 hours with ornery preschoolers? I just found out; thought I’d share. Over and over throughout the day, God kept whispering, then speaking, and finally shouting that it is KINDNESS that leads us to repentance; and the times I listened to Him and disciplined accordingly, REAL change happened. Much to my children’s loss, I didn’t listen much.
Last night, I cried at my daughter’s bedside (again) because I KNOW the way I’d been parenting was NOT consistent with the Word. I don’t know which got higher during the worst of it, my eyebrows or my voice; either way, no face lift needed but earplugs strongly recommended. And, faced with the immeasurable stain of my sin, I cried myself to sleep and prayed God would erase from their little memories the battle that was yesterday.
Weeping lasts for a night, but truly joy comes in the morning. We still butted heads over brushing teeth and getting dressed, but LittleBit went to work with Daddy today, so she was excited and slightly more pliable. IttyBitty, our quintessential homebody, was pleased to be staying home and dozed on the couch with me and was thrilled to then be on the floor playing animal dominoes (making houses, not matches, mind you). He wasn’t as thrilled when we had to leave the house to run errands, but he was pleased for the opportunity to talk my ear off (suffice it to say my daughter takes after me, he after my husband) and excited that there might be lollipops involved at the bank.
On our way home from our innumerable stops, I turned on my Insight for Living podcast. Months ago I downloaded Pastor Chuck Swindoll’s message, “God Expects us to Love Kindness.” I only have part one of the message, but it was the challenge I needed. I desperately needed to be reminded that HE IS KIND, THEREFORE I AM KIND. I needed clear pictures of what kindness looked like in the day to day; ways to flesh out the opposite of my own rebellion. My chilled heart needed a good scrubbing with His Word on kindness.
So now, I sit on my couch, completely humiliated by my own inability, my own disgusting niceness, and therefore READY for His strength to be made perfect in this unbelievable weakness. What will it look like?
Niceness plays with my Angels when I want to with the toys that don’t make noise; kindness plays with my Angels when they want to with the pennwhistle, harmonica, and drumset.
Niceness smiles and sappily says “Now, we don’t talk to Mommy like that” about a minute and a half before disciplining in annoyance or anger; kindness gives a firm but LOVING rebuke to the behavior and then scoops up the little one to hold since they’re getting over a 10 day hug deficit.
Niceness finds another activity they can do to occupy themselves so they don’t fight with each other; kindness sees the frustration as opportunity to show and teach real love and lets-all-be-in-unity.
Niceness says, “I will not do ANYTHING wrong as a Mother today! I will not, I will not, I will not!” Kindness says, “LORD, You know I’m going to blow it; please don’t let me blow it at them” and “Honey, I am so sorry I acted like a goober. Would you please forgive Mommy? I don’t ever want to hurt your feelings, I was wrong.”
They say going back to school isn’t easy as a parent; I believe it. This internship is more painful and trying than any I’ve ever had. But in a few scant years, I won’t have need to switch majors; Angels will be in the ministries and careers God has designed for them and the rest of the world is quite fine with niceness. So I’m hitting the books now, delighted that the construction paper on my wall proudly proclaiming my achievement will be written in Crayola, signed illegibly in 50pt font and shaped with safety scissors.
What a blessing! The best degree I’ll ever receive!
Father God,
How do You do it??? How can You parent me as gently and lovingly as You do???? It’s days like these that I roll my eyes at the idiot I become when I’m not right with You. Jesus, I am so sorry that You had to die because You knew this week was coming and there would be no beauty from ashes apart from Your grace; thank You for that sacrifice. Please forgive my stupidity and my selfishness; please continue to burn off the dross that is “me” and replace it with the precious gold of Your wisdom and Your grace. LORD, thank You for teaching me — for LIVING OUT FOR ME — true kindness; may my children joyfully come to You knowing that “…goodness and mercy shall follow [them] all the days of [their lives]” You are Holy and Perfect and Patient beyond comprehension. I praise You for Your love!!!
“I, even I, am He who blots out your transgressions, for My own sake, and remembers your sins no more.” Isaiah 43:25
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