My Daughter

 My daughter. The one who made me a mother, and who every day brings me to the end of myself. My patience is short, her questions are long. She is a leader. She is determined. She is nothing and everything like I thought she would be.

Yesterday morning, on the way to tend to a vacationing friend's garden (a blessing, as it will help to fill up our shelves for yummy eating through the winter), she was helping her little brother read their Children's Bible. About David, and how he protected his sheep from the lion and then His sheep from Goliath. About Daniel and how he was in the lion's den but did not get eaten. Her brother asked, "how did God do it?" She told him of His power. She said, "I will tell you how powerful He is. All He had to do was say 'tree' and there was a tree. There is nothing more powerful than God." So full of conviction, full of Truth, full to the brim with God-knowledge. How can I help but grow to be like her?

Lord, protect her believing heart. That when the enemy tries to convince her that what she believes is not real, she will have a strong foundation to stand on. Let her strength in You carry her on this path You pave ahead of her, and in her weakness may she draw closer to You.

And give me what I need to be the mother that she needs.

Super power

He came up behind me. "Mama, look at how fast this shirt makes me run!" And then he was gone, sprinting through the kitchen and into the dining room. I chuckled and remarked at how he was as fast as lightening.

And I thought, "if I had an outfit that gave me super powers, what powers would I want to have?" I surprised myself when I realized that instead of wanting super speed or x-ray vision, I wanted things like never-ending patience, or infinite wisdom in being a wife and mother.

Then He surprised me by reminding me that I already have all of that in Him. When I wear the cloak of the Spirit, I have love, joy, and peace. With His armor I have a full supply of patience and wisdom. In His Word are all of the super powers I need to navigate this life well.

Now if only I had the super-power to remember that I have these super-powers.

Striving to live

We sat together, my good friend and I, enjoying the cool air (that a few weeks ago we considered hot!) after eating some yummy dinner. We talked about kids and marriage and life, and I said, "I just wish it would be consistently good. Why is it that we have days that are effortlessly great and days that really just take work? Scott and I can have a really great day, and then something happens the next day and it seems like we are having to work through a conflict. Wouldn't it be nice if it wasn't so hard?"

And then today, sitting outside reading the Word and listening to the birds call to each other, He reminded me that, yeah, it is hard, and by the way, He already said it was going to be.

Romans 8:15-17 "So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God's Spirit when He adopted you as His own children. Now we call Him, "Abba, Father." For His Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God's children. And since we are His children, we are His heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God's glory. But if we are to share in His glory, we must also share in His suffering."


The Study Bible says about these verses "Jesus is heir to all of God's promises, and as those who belong to Jesus, we share with Him in that glorious inheritance. However, just as it was for Jesus, our path to glory is also marked by suffering. We experience the difficulties that come from striving to live righteously in a world dominated by sin."

Life is hard because there is a real struggle in our souls between what we ought to do (living righteously) and what we want to do (the cravings of our sinful nature). God's original law, though good and right, only served to show the people what they were doing wrong. It didn't bring with it any means to stop doing the wrong. That's where Jesus came in. With His death and resurrection, we are given His Spirit, and the Spirit lives in us, enabling us to choose not to be slaves to our sinful nature and to walk righteously. By His grace and power, may I strive to have more and more days where I choose not my sinful nature, but His righteousness.

My children are not my own

My mind and heart spin. Round and round they go with anger, frustration, worry, mostly anger.

My boy has something wrong and everyone is sending me in circles, with no end in near sight. I tell myself all the Truth that I know. God is bigger than this. He already knows the answers. I have learned that I can trust Him with everything, including my boy. And still He leads me.

I lift up trembling hands, offering it up to Him. If I could leave it there at His feet then I wouldn't be in the emotionally and physically wound situation that I'm in. The problem is that then I take it back. He's my boy. And then I remember that he was His boy first.

And then he looks at me and smiles and says, "I love you, Mommy. More than you know I do." And then he's my boy and I'm picking him up and hugging him close and he's got his arms around me, playing with my hair. And I'm melting, and I'm frustrated, because the people who control this situation are telling me that there really is not so much a situation as I think there is.

And then I remember that really He controls this situation, and round and round I go.

And now I choose to stop. I choose to remember that my boy isn't really mine. And even if I have to tell myself the same thing over and over and over, I will remember that in Him lies the future of my son.  

In this world I will have trouble, Hudson will have trouble, but we can be encouraged because He has overcome the world (John 16:33). And because He has, in Him we have. So I will take it to His feet and leave it there. And I will rest in His calming presence, as His peace guards my heart and my mind (Matthew 11:28, Philippians 4:7).
 
"Bless the Lord, O my soul, O my soul. Worship His Holy name. Sing like never before, O my soul, I'll worship Your Holy name. The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning. It's time to sing Your song again. Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes." 10,000 Reasons by Matt Redman

And we won't even go into the fact that this morning I have to take Remi to the doctor because she did something to her thumb and now it is stuck bent and won't straighten out...

When mothering is like one big long contraction

I had just gone down to the basement to tend to laundry when they started. "Mama! Mommy! Hey Mama! Mommy!" Already dangerously close to blowing my top, I realized that they weren't going to stop until I answered them. Leaving the laundry and stomping up the stairs, I threw the back door open and screamed "WHAT!?!?" The dispute over there being too many people on the trampoline was easily settled (umm, by me grabbing the guilty party off) and I went back inside to finish my laundry. It had already been a stressful morning. It just seemed like my kids were at odds with each other and I felt like I was having to correct them every 10 minutes.
Back inside, God gently drew my attention to the fact that I was stewing over it all, and I literally felt how tense my body was. My jaws were clenched, my brow was furrowed, and my body was tense with frustration. Immediately I was taken back in time to a few years ago, when my dear midwife was helping me through my difficult labors. After a contraction she would whisper to me, "Okay, now that's over. Just let it go. Relax. Take a deep breath. And we will wait for the next one."
When I have a particularly hard day and it seems like the kids are testing my patience over and over again, instead of letting it go I let each 'offense' pile up, and I get more and more upset each time. Then it gets to the point that I explode, and have to apologize for it later.
What I need to do is take a moment, relax, and let it go when my children seem particularly difficult. I need to remember those sweet words from my midwife, so that I will be able to calmly handle the next trial that will come my way on this journey of mothering and schooling three young children.

My Warriors

My little warriors. I pray every single day that they will keep those warrior hearts. For there is a great battle that is being fought every day for the souls of my children, and it will continue as long as they are alive. One day they will have to make a choice, and my prayer is that God will have the victory.

Mini-me and great cathedrals

So yeah, God basically made a miniature copy of me when He made Libby in my womb. Here's proof. (side note: I have finally gotten used to seing that poor little gap in her mouth)

And, I got this in an email from a friend of mine this morning, and though I would share it for all of you beautiful (even if tired and ragged) mamas who happen to visit my blog.

Cathedrals

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this ? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel'? I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please'. I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package and said, 'I brought you this'. It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription. 'To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees'.

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:

No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names

These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished

They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.

The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.' I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard
God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day,
even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked is too small for Me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder, as one of the people who show up at a job they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime, because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours, and presses all the linens for the table.'
That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then if there Is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there!

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Great Job, MOM!