May 14, 2017
It was one of those mornings when I was home alone and piddling around the house…sorting laundry, unloading the dishwasher, trying to find a system to organize the one million pieces of paper that had made their way onto the kitchen bar.
I walked into the living room just in time to catch the last minute or so of a maternity fashion segment on a morning show. The mom-to-be I saw on the screen was absolutely radiant. But as my eyes focused on the TV, this woman who looked completely together, began to sway as her knees buckled. Within seconds, she fell, albeit gracefully, to her knees as the show’s hostess tried to help before the entire segment broke to a commercial.
Upon the return of the show, the hostess reassured me and the rest of the stunned audience that mom-to-be was fine as she patted her now-seated back. As a TV pro, she then cleverly wrapped it all with a comment about how the incident clearly models being a mom, “You have no control! Welcome to motherhood!”
Preaching it on a Friday morning! I quietly testified to her “out of control” statement as I looked at my living room, scattered with football cards, leftover Easter baskets, crumpled socks, and a gigantic toy airplane that doesn’t seem to fit on any shelf.
Messes are minor chaos that make me want to pull out my hair, but that’s not what brings me to my knees. It’s the times when I do feel out of control about motherhood that I fall before Him. Times when I fret. Times when I question. Times when I fall short. Times when I just have to wonder how this whole thing is going to turn out.
“Lord, show me. Please show me some fruit of my labor.” I’ve begged the Lord to show me that the mothering is worth it. That one day they will remember the lessons that I’ve uttered and repeated. And the values that I’m striving to model. That I’m not completely ruining my kids’ lives when I lose my temper. That they won’t fulfill every. single. one. of the fears the world throws at mamas. That an imperfect mom can point to a perfect Savior.
So this Mother’s Day weekend, can we relax? Okay, not too much relaxing. Someone has to wash the breakfast-in-bed dishes and wipe up the marker smudges from the homemade cards. But can we rest? Rest even though we may not exactly deserve that “Best Mom Ever” label we’ll receive, but in knowing that we are the handpicked mamas for these kids we’re raising.
And whether we find ourselves in a good stride, radiating joy or on our knees wiping up milk and pleading with the Lord for help, He’s there with us. Patting us on the back and reassuring us that we’re going to be okay.
April 24, 2017
A few weeks ago, some friends graciously gave us tickets to a local Laura Story concert. Love her. If you’re not familiar with her music, you are definitely missing out.
Along with the tickets, our friends reserved front row seats for us. Front pew, dead center. We were closer to Laura Story than anyone else in the building. So close that we basically could have high fived each other had she taken the notion to do so during the show.
Standing during the worship songs proved to be a little intimidating.(Sidenote:I cling to that “joyful noise” verse.) I stood hoping/wishing/praying that her own voice and guitar would completely drown out anything coming from my mouth.
During the concert, Laura referred several times to her playlist and her tendency to deviate from it. This plan was a handwritten list of song abbreviations she had placed by her feet on the floor. I’m telling you, we were close. Close enough to take the list and get it autographed after the show.
I haven’t figured out what all of the abbreviations mean, but I do know that Laura said that she didn’t follow her plan exactly.
I guess that’s the way concerts go. I know that’s the way life goes.
We can have life all planned out, down to the details of hours and minutes, but really, how often does the playlist end up matching reality?
Just the day after the concert, I had my evening all mapped out, complete with eating nachos and watching basketball from the couch. These people I live with had other ideas. A few minutes into a pity party, I recognized my selfishness and apologized.
My apologies turned into confession before God the next morning at church as I looked around me and was reminded of my own frivolity. A couple who sat behind us had buried their grandchild earlier in the week. A couple to our left raised their hands in worship regardless of the health battles they faced. All the while, my friend’s impending out of state move…the second within a year…with two preschoolers in tow…weighed on my heart.
Major changes to life’s playlists.
I’m as capable as the next believer to quote some Scripture and nod my head in agreement when someone else’s life faces change and upheaval. “His will…” rolls easily off my lips in an effort to encourage someone. “His ways are higher” I can remind another who’s enduring an unexpected detour from their plans.
But when I’m staring at my own playlist, do I remember the truth of His Word? When I’m asked to obey His directions rather than give in to my own desires, do I trust? Because that’s what it really comes down to, right? Do we trust Him?
Do we believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that He is in control? That He is orchestrating the show? That long ago, before our first breaths, He wrote down our playlist, the storylines that would compose our lives?
It’s one thing to be a steward of our time and our gifts and desire to use them to serve. It’s another thing to have a grasp on our plans and goals and dare anyone or even the One to make us change course.
Yes, there are plenty of times when life seems out of key. We stomp our feet in protest rather than tapping along in rhythm to the soundtrack of our days. The design may include songs we don’t want to sing.
And surely, it’ll be full of anthems of praise.
Remember friend, God’s playlist, His divine plan for our lives, turns out to be a beautiful compilation. Sing it out for all to hear.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11
February 8, 2017
“Is it still winter?” my little guy asked. While the answer was, “Yes,” the confusion swirling around the question was understandable. After all, the sun was beaming down, raising the temperature to almost 70, enabling him to run around outside in a t-shirt and sandals with no socks. And his day in kindergarten had certainly encountered the month of February on the calendar. Didn’t feel like February. Didn’t feel like winter. Yet it was.
Not long ago, he was donning snow boots and gloves. We had enough snow to sled, build a snowman, and gobble up some snow cream.
The leaves of this bush were weighed down with the white stuff.
Now here it stands looking like a spring queen. A case of seasonal identity crisis.
Recently in a ladies’ Bible study, attendees were asked to write down what season of life we were in. Now that is a good question.
“Young married?” No, we’ve almost reached 18 years and we’re both starting to gray.
“Young family?” Tough one. I have a kindergartener but will also have a teenager within a few days.
Okay, cross “young” anything off the list.
“Retired?” Mentally, at times. In reality, way off.
So I settled on somewhere in the middle. A kind of in-between season.
In fact, I’ve known for several months that I’m in a bit of a resting season. Busy? Yes. I’m a taxi driver, top grocery purchaser, chief washing machine operator, and head chef among other things. Even though it often doesn’t outwardly look or feel restful, that’s where I am right now.
So often our lives are defined by the season we’re in. For many, the stage of family determines our season. Pregnancy and empty nesters and every phase in between keep us stretched. Career status, whether starting a new one or exiting an old one, can shape us. Our roles in ministry ebb and flow through the years. There are times when we seem to be involved in each opportunity that arises and other times when we aren’t as committed.
Then there are those stages we want to wish away. When the baby doesn’t sleep through the night. Or when there’s too much month at the end of the paycheck. Or when every line on our planners are taken.
But there are seasons when major family, career, or ministry changes aren’t present. Life has settled into a rhythm, an in-between season.
Are you in this season? At times, it may feel like wasted time. It’s not. You may wonder if you’re accomplishing anything during a down time. Here are three strategies to keep in mind…and keep you motivated while you rest.
Soak up the Word
While reading God’s Word is essential for any phase of life, there are seasons when we have more actual time to sit, read, and study. Often it’s during these times that we are nourished from the exhaustion of a previous stage or reenergized for what lies ahead. Time in the Word is never wasted time. Delve into personal study, beginning each day with a prayer for a hunger for God’s Word. Get involved in group Bible studies as well. Personal connections made during corporate study often grow some of the deepest roots. ("All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work." 2 Timothy 3:16-17)
Be Reflective and Thankful
Quiet time gives fresh opportunities to reflect on where we’ve been, experiences that have grown us, and an overall spirit of thanksgiving. I’ve discovered more than a few times recently when my eyes have welled with tears as I’ve watched my boys. This restful season has allowed me to be more reflective on the blessings I already have. I’m not consumed with hurrying to the next step; I’m thankful to be in the present moment. Count your blessings. Thank God for His goodness. ("Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; His love endures forever." Psalm 118: 1)
So often we spend our lives waiting for the next thing or striving to get to another step. A season of rest is a time to do exactly the opposite. It’s not neglecting goals or falling out of all activity, but stopping and finding satisfaction in the moment. Take advantage of some down time to rest in the contentment found in Jesus. ("A heart at peace gives life to the body..." Proverbs 14:30)
Seasons come and go. One of rest isn’t likely to hang around for long. Make an effort to enjoy while it lasts. Rest in knowing that while life may seem dormant for a while, another season will soon be in bloom.
December 17, 2016
It’s not that I haven’t been working on it. The tree’s up. Plenty of presents are bought. Christmas books have been read to the kids. Must be something about standing in the middle of a big box store less than two weeks away from Christmas that just made me feel as if I hadn’t done a thing.
It was supposed to be a quick trip in for a bottle of face wash, several boxes of cereal, and a few things for supper. It turned into a giant reminder of all I hadn’t done to get ready for Christmas. The stocking stuffers, wrapping paper, cute little baking supplies. Cue the mental list of what needed to be checked off my to-do list.
I slung my bags into the back of the minivan with a brief ba-hum-bug. Running low on time, money, energy, and apparently a good attitude, what did I have to offer to this last stretch of the holiday season? I hadn’t even baked one cookie I reminded myself.
Rewind a few weeks ago when I was asking myself that same question….what do I have to offer?
It was during the time our church family put on a Christmas drive-thru. We staged ourselves in different scenes to relay the gospel message to those who attended. They needed a boy Jesus to fill out the cast, so when our six year old took the role, his too-old parents got to tag along as Mary and Joseph. We loved it. It was an awesome way to get in the Christmas spirit and spend time with church friends and our own family.
Drivers and passengers heard about Jesus’ birth, life, and death as they listened to a recorded message. Those of us who were in the scenes basically had one job. To remain quiet and still, somewhat frozen in place.
But, do you want to know one of the best parts of the gig? The quiet. Quiet in 45 minute increments. Do that several times for a few nights and this mama found herself some quiet time. Time to think.
I wish I had a running transcript of my thoughts that weekend.
It began reverently enough. “Lord, use us. Reach these people with Your truth.”
In fact, prayer dominated my thoughts. Prayers of thanks and ones for discernment. Even prayers for the boy beside me to quickly rid himself of the wiggles.
Somewhere that ran off the rails. I mean at some point with all of that time to think a girl’s gotta mentally renovate her kitchen and contemplate some of life’s other major questions, “Should we paint the living room the color gray of the wise man’s vest?”
Staring at the wise men bearing their gifts for several hours leads to questions about them.
“I wonder if the person who bought that box he’s bearing used a 40% off coupon at Hobby Lobby?” It did look like an ancient relic, but I’ve been to Hobby Lobby enough to have spotted some there.
Eventually, my thoughts made their way back to ones with more significance.
“What did Mary and Joseph do with those gifts?”
“How did they feel as mom and dad when they received that royal visit?”
Those gifts, those offerings. My mind lingered on them for quite a while.
I imagined myself in the place of the wise men. Just plain old me, standing there. Surely, my box wouldn’t contain the same kind of gift. No gold or precious spice.
Most days I’m just a mom pushing my shopping cart containing store-brand Cinnamon Toast Crunch and boil-in-the-bag rice.
What do I really have to offer?
My answer landed closer to the little drummer boy’s presentation of a song rather than the extravagant gifts of the Magi. My hands seem to be empty of anything worthy to offer the King of Kings.
Or maybe not. Maybe they’re actually full of what I need to give to Him. I’m often weighed down holding what belongs in His hands. Expectations for the future. Hopes for my kids. My time. Boy, what a grip I struggle to maintain on my sacred time.
Perhaps those things we hold most precious could be our offerings of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Our treasures entrusted to Him. Emptying our hands to lay them at His feet. Then we could get back to the still, the quiet of the season…after we bake the cookies and wrap the presents.
Whether you’re running on empty or feel that your hands can’t hold another ounce, give it to Jesus this Christmas. He replaces our emptiness with His love and bears our burdens with His mercy.
November 7, 2016
Oh, this election. We are tired. We are weary. We are in need of miracles or the rapture.
And I know we’re out of time, but maybe just what we need is another candidate. Someone to boldly step away from the laundry and come into the limelight, leggings, ponytail, and all. Because at times like these, we need someone with nerves of steel, a strong back, and a solid resume.
We need a mom.
Think about it. Yes, moms are moms. But we’re so much more.
We are nurses armed with Star Wars Band-Aids.
We are teachers with reading skills and homemade multiplication cards.
We are short order line cooks whipping up PB&Js, nuggets, and homemade chocolate chip cookies without blinking an eye.
We are shoulders to cry on and ears to listen. We make more decisions daily after school than many do in a month.
Not that I’m asking to run…I’d actually run from the job, but take a look at some of my qualifications. I’m sure you are or know a mom whose resume would resemble mine.
I remember writing in a high school journal that I wanted to be the first female NFL referee. I even practiced the signals for holding and false starts. I am fulfilling my dreams. Every day, multiple times a day, I put my referee skills into practice. Time out for touching your brother for the skillioneth time today. Go to your room penalty for your bad attitude. Immediate confiscation of electronics for daring to roll your eyes at me.
Tell me that wouldn’t come in handy in dealing with some DC disagreements.
At this point, I’ve pulled off 27 birthday parties for my boys and a few events as room mom. Along with my First Man, I’ve baked enough cupcakes to feed a small state, created decorations from toilet paper tubes, and stuffed a mountain of treat bags. I’ve labeled Sprite as Yoda Soda and chocolate dipped pretzels as light sabers. All this with color-coordinating balloons in tow.
Hello, state dinners? Got you covered.
Whether it’s using buy one get one coupons or locating deals at local consignment shops, I can stretch a dollar. My humble budget has been pushed and pulled and I stay within my means. My sister-in-law, another mom, got three meals from a $3 package of chicken last week.
I have full confidence that a group of mamas could wipe out some national debt.
Legos. Enough said.
Any building, airport, infrastructure? Small-scale models are prepared.
The list isn't exhaustive. Counselor, seamstress, top negotiator, and others need to be added. But I have some reading logs, permission slips, and other important documents to sign.
Anyway, the deadline has passed for this go-around. Even a glowing resume can't turn back the clock. But come 2020, we’ll be looking for you Moms.