Sunday Scripture: Through Him

"I can do all things through Him who strengthens me."

-Philippians 4:13

 

Five Minute Friday: In Between

I'm linking up again for Five Minute Friday, where an incredible community of  women let go of writing rules and should do's for the joy of just writing. One prompt. Five Minutes. No editing. Check out Lisa Jo's site for all the details and join the fun!

In Between…

 GO

The phrase stirs uncomfortable.

Wedged in between my two big sisters in the backseat of mom’s maroon Isuzu Trooper II. Waiting to be noticed in between high school boyfriends. Wavering in between sizes as my body grew three times carrying three babies. Then waiting three times again--maternity clothes too big, but favorite skinny jeans just a dream-- in the blah of in between, trying to shrink back to the body I remember as my own. In between houses, in between best friends, in between churches, in between dreams.

The in between makes me want to hurry up, get to where I’m going, to where I want to be.

Yet, maybe there is something good about the in betweens? Something more than uncomfortable?

I love sitting in between Noah and Elias for special couch snuggles watching Monsters Inc. yet again. Feeling there soft and squishy little boy hands in between mine, hearing their silly comments and funny questions in between their favorite animated scenes.

I love the time in between afternoon and night. Yes, dusk is what they call the in between. Where the Lord’s fading sky masterpiece and cool breeze gifts make back porch dinners the perfect thing for in between play time and bed time.

And really, isn’t all this life we live in between? In between the beginning...formed from dust by the Maker’s hands and then molded in my mother’s womb, and the next beginning…reunited for eternity with the Maker in glory.

Hmmm….yes, all is in between. How will I choose to view the in betweens? How will you?

STOP

Five Minute Friday: Rhythm

Rhythm...

GO

I remember the feeling of tapping my foot. Tap. Tap. Tap. Seven-year-old small me sitting in the middle of the big sanctuary stage at my first trumpet recital, trying to find the rhythm, the beat. I must have tapped my black patent leather shoe twenty times before I took the biggest breath my little lungs could hold and blew the first note of Hot Cross Buns.

It’s been 24 years, but sometimes I still feel like that little girl with the crimped hair and missing front teeth, desperately trying to find the rhythm. To know for certain that my feet, my fingers, my heart, my life are centered on the right beat before I make my first move.

But unfortunately three crazy little boys are not the patient audience that attended my inaugural recital. I don’t have time each morning to wait until I feel perfectly prepared before playing my mother song. If I waited, I’d probably be tapping for a long, loooong time.

So I’m learning to find my rhythm in Christ. Learning to listen, desiring to synchronize my steps with the Spirit and trust that as I follow God I will play well the song story He has written just for me. 

STOP

This post is part of Five Minute Fridays, a kind of creative exercise flash mob where everyone writes on the same prompt for five minutes all raw and beautiful just for the sake of writing. Click here to check out what others are saying and join in the writing fun!

Dad's Day

They adore him because they know him.
They trust him because he is trustworthy.
They respect him because he is respectable.
They laugh with him because he is silly.
They wrestle with him because he is strong.
They walk around with tools in their pockets, pencils behind their ears, and black socks pulled high up their ankles because they want to be just like him.
He is adventure and approval.
He is snuggles and security.
He is wild and stern and tender and he delights in who they are and who they are becoming.

He is their Dad. They are blessed.

And I am blessed to watch this beautiful story unfold of a dad and his three boys.
I am Mama. I am Wife.
Yes, I am blessed.

Five Minute Friday: Listen

I'm linking up with Lisa-Jo for my first Five Minute Friday. The assignment, the gift, is to write for five minutes on the topic given without worrying about self editing or over thinking or finding the right words. Just write.  So here I go.

Listen...

GO

Listening. It’s where life happens. It’s where the leaves’ rustle and songbird’s song and squirrel’s scurry combine into nature’s symphony. It’s where shovel into dirt and dump truck wheels on concrete sing a boyhood masterpiece. It’s where God’s still small voice becomes loud enough to hear because I’m still.

Life is in the listening.

Without the listening there’s too much of me talking. Talking that tries to control little boys who were made for moments of wild. Talking that stir up frustration inside because controlling is futile—though training is fruitful. Inner talking that sounds like self pity and says poor me when the day is full of serving and I just want to be served.

But to listen…to listen is to hear the Spirit’s whisper reminder that I’ve already been served the greatest gift by the Greatest Servant. To listen is to hear my Jesus tell me how he was all poured out for me, his child, and if I pour myself out for his children, too, then he’ll fill me back up. Service is not for the poor but for the rich, so I am rich in spirit when I serve.

But some times, lots of times, I don’t listen. I don’t hear those sweet, true, convicting, redeeming, life-giving words because I don’t stop to listen.

Stop. Receive the gift. Listen.

Yes, LIFE is in the listening.

 

STOP

Thank You, Monday

Monday mornings can be rough.

Today. Monday. Yes. Rough.

Little boys waking up grumpy after too much fun jumping the afternoon away in their cousin's birthday party bounce house.

And now before anyone has even gotten out of PJs, there's been bickering and biting, wailing and whining, crying and complaining, ungrateful grumbling, and disgruntled disobedience.

Ever have one of those mornings? A morning when you just want to send everyone back to bed and pull the covers over your own head and not emerge for a really, really long time?

I know my attitude has turned as sour as theirs and I only want summer sweetness...but sometimes don't know how to get there.

"Apart from me you can do nothing." Jesus' words from John 15 broke through.

Ahhh, Jesus.

My joy dwindling, my mood despairing, my words discouraging...I decided to choose Jesus. And in that choosing I saw silly moments sparkling through the Monday muck.

 

And I chose to give thanks...for the voices that whine are also the ones that say, "I love you, Mommy." And the hands that steal toys from a brother are also the hands that hug him. And the time I don't have alone is the time I am gifted to spend training and being trained by the three little blessings given from God's heart to mine.

It's peaceful for a moment now. The baby sleeps. The big boys turn roots and sticks and avocado seeds into wild treasures and jewels unseen. And we're almost rounding the clock to lunch time and nap time and our favorite time when Daddy comes home.

And I give thanks, too, that Monday mornings don't last forever.
Hello Monday. Thank you for coming. And I'll be thankful when you're gone.

Hello Monday

I'm linking up with Lisa Leonard for my first "hello monday" post.

It's pretty simple. Just sharing some hellos as I look forward to a brand new week.

Hello brothers working side by side. 

Moments of happy togetherness bless my heart.

 

Hello reaching. 

Jude is reaching new milestones of mobility each day.

 

 Hello investigating. 

Elias is Mr. Inquisitive. WHY?? is his FAVORITE question!

 

 Hello delighting. 

Watching Noah delight in dirt helps me to see the simple things as special things, too.

 

 Hello Memorial Day.

I'm thankful for the men and women who have served this country faithfully and sacrificed for our freedom with their very lives. You are not forgotten.

What are you saying hello to?

Three Gifts

Every day these three little guys stretch me, challenge me, tickle me, 

climb on me, hug me, kiss me, frustrate and amaze me.

And every day they bless me.

Every day...a gift from God. 

 

"Every good and perfect gift is from above..." -James 1:17

Thank you, God, for these good and perfect gifts. 

Faith Steps

In the whirl of life with little kids, days and weeks and years can blur together, each one melding with the next. Through the sleep deprived fog I know that I have nursed babies, made meals, washed dishes, beamed joy over my children, wept alone, laughed and cried with friends, and on and on the things that make up daily life.

Most weeks by the time Friday finally finds its way here I can barely remember what happened on Monday. (Most days by dinner I can barely remember breakfast.) But through the blur I can clearly recall one significant day almost three years ago.

It was a Wednesday morning. September 1, 2010 to be exact. Noah, then a toddler, had splashed milk from his cereal bowl all over my jeans, and another kind of milk had leaked through three layers of clothes to the surface of my teal sweater, thanks to the gift of nourishing my two-month-old Elias. But I was already dressed. And I wasn't going to be late this time. So I blotted all the milk as best I could and got my little crew out the door.

I walked into the church sanctuary feeling disheveled and disoriented. Uncertain and intimidated. It was my first time at this new mommy group and I didn't know a soul. But God had prompted me to go. So I went.

I didn't know what to expect. But I was expectant.

So many times I had prayed, Please God, just one real friend. Just one friend to share heart and life and mommyhood with.

I had no idea how God was going to answer that small plea with relational blessings beyond measure.

I could write a whole series on exactly how God used this mommy group to build authentic, life-giving relationships. How I went from feeling lost and isolated,  a new mama floundering alone, to feeling encouraged and hopeful, a mama connected in community and flourishing because of tangible love and support. (And maybe someday I will write more about that.)

But right now I will tell you that this mommy group was a lifeline. A gift. God asked me to step out in faith and when I did, he was faithful to meet my needs. And I am forever changed because of it.

Today is another day I know I won't soon forget, even when the mommy fog rolls in thick. Today, after three years of Wednesday mornings of fellowship with kindred spirits traveling the motherhood journey together, I walked out of that church sanctuary for the last time.

Not because I have stopped being blessed by that ministry or stopped loving those sweet women. But because God is again asking me to step out in faith.

The wonderful mommies at my table with our crazy scarves at our final tea.

He's asking me to take what I've learned about connecting women, encouraging and equipping mamas just like me, and help invest in the beginning years of a new mommy ministry at my home church. I'm excited for what God has planned. But it's hard (really hard) to leave the first place where my heart as a mom found a home.

But I know that the significant relationships I built will last. And I believe there are new moms who will walk through our church doors, not knowing a soul, looking for a friend. Maybe God wants me to be that friend.

I don't know fully what to expect in this next season. But I am expectant.

*     *     *

What faith steps have you taken? Have you ever given up a blessing? What did God do in the season that followed?

to be Mama

I wiped a hundred salty tears and gave a thousand kisses;

At least two noses wiped snot on me—not within my wishes.

I made breakfast, lunch, (and thirteen snacks?) and now dinner’s on the stove.

To Target, Costco, Trader Joes my mommy van I drove.

My hands are raw from doing dishes, yet there’s still more to be washed;

Like endless training of the two-year-old who keeps saying “Oh, my gosh!”

I painted pictures, built dragon caves, cleaned pee in every room.

And caught myself saying crazy things, like, “You don’t deserve to use the broom!”

When did cleaning become a “privilege” for them, but for me my daily  “plight”?

I guess when vacuum attachments are special swords for a special dragon fight.

I folded laundry, changed twelve diapers, then refolded stacks once more—

Sneaky boys stealing laundry baskets to creep like turtles across the floor.

Sometimes I feel like a zookeeper, trying to keep animals in their cage;

Please tell me I’m not raising monkeys and climbing is just a stage.

Then for one moment my world was perfect: 

Brothers building towers, babe nursing at my breast.

But then I blink…

And one boy throws a block and the other boy screams 

And the baby bites me with his two tiny chompers so I’m screaming, too, 

Which makes the baby wail and I just want to rewind time 

And hit the pause button on that one precious moment of serenity and sweetness 

And leave my life frozen there 

FOREVER.

But I can’t.

Because I’m a mama, and my boys are growing fast.

And these crazy chaos days feel loooong, but surely they won’t last.

Soon, little boys who want to kiss me with peanut butter faces

Will be replaced by teenagers with scruffy chins and braces.

The little arms that reach up high and around my neck squeeze tight

Will soon grow manly muscles and sprout tall past mama’s height.

So please, dear Jesus, help me to stop and savor these crazy days,

Help me to remember every boyish giggle and adoring baby gaze.

Help me to delight in all their growing—each funny noise and silly word,

Help me to put aside my to-do lists so each child feels he’s heard.

Help me to look past crumbs and milk drips to see the gifts and not the mess,

Help me to find more words of praise and honor, and criticize much less.

But mostly, gracious God, help me to turn to you each moment of each hour

To find wisdom, patience, strength, and grace—to be Mama by your power.