A Beautiful Life

I inhaled the strong, rich scent of my morning coffee.  I don't often come close to finishing a cup without zapping it two, three, fifteen times!  But the sound of coffee percolating was music to my ears.  Another familiar sound was music to my ears:  my two girls upstairs playing together...nicely!  Okay, so maybe the nicely part wasn't as familiar as I'd like it to be.  My toddler's sweet sounds were also music to my ears.  He was exploring new territory every day as he learned to walk faster and faster and hey, maybe he could run after all!? Nope.  But he sure squealed with pride and delight as he tried, and tumbled once again, onto his cushy tush.  With the windows and doors open, there was a heavenly breeze.  The roosters were echoing each other's cock-a-doodle-do.  The birds were whistling their blissful morning's songs.  In the distance was the steady rumbling of the tractor's motor as my 11-year-old began his morning chore.  Life was good!

At this point, you may be waiting to read what went wrong.  Even as I recount this delightful morning, I'm remembering how many times I've spent my life waiting for the other shoe to drop.  It's sad.  I remember that morning well because it was only days ago.  But mostly I remember that morning well because, as I walked through my kitchen taking in those smells, sights, and sounds, I felt content and grateful.  I basked in that feeling for a while and I gave thanks.  I thanked God for the wonderful gifts He had given me.  So what ended up going wrong that morning?  Nothing.  And most likely everything.  

Nothing tremendous happened to rain on my parade.  The other shoe didn't drop.  There weren't any traumatic events or catastrophes in my little world.  

On the other hand, there was more disaster and sadness in the world around me than I felt I could handle.  At times, overwhelmed is too small a word for how I feel about raising children in these times.  Eventually, the sweet giggles and words my girls exchanged as they played turned to bickering and silence...and perhaps some stomping as one sister decided she was done with the game.  My sweet toddler turned testy tired toddler, as he had been missing one too many naps trying to keep up with his older siblings during the summer days.  And when the tractor needed more gas?  I ended up with more gasoline on my flip flopped foot than in the tank for the first attempt at filling the incredibly antiquated gas tank at the station.  Even after a shower, I could still smell the lingering scent of gasoline on my skin.  Yuck!  The upstairs sink wouldn't drain...again.  As the day grew, there was more bickering, fussing, and whining.  There were more spills and cold cups of coffee...endlessly reheated (a mama's gotta try!).  The day was far from perfect.  Isn't every day?

But I remembered those first perfect moments of my morning.  I have those perfect moments so often.  There are countless moments during my day when I stop and think I love this life you gave me God, when I think I have so much to be thankful for.  Is every day of my life perfect, blissful, and carefree?  Heck no!  You could spend a day with me and see how easily we fall apart, mess up, and let each other down.  I think that is the story with most of us.  That's real.  That's family.  That's life.  So we have a choice each day.  I am learning that I have a choice many moments throughout my day.  Will I focus on the frustrating pitfalls of the day?  Or will I focus on and give thanks for all of the little moments that are beautifully perfect?  Or at least perfect in my little world.  And your perfect will never look the same as my perfect.  My perfect will never--should never--look the same as yours!  And yet our imperfect wonderful lives are filled with opportunities and moments to give thanks.  

This is the life I wanted.  As Ann Voskamp wrote, Every day that you do the hard things that you don't want to do --you're building the family you always wanted to have.

That's the secret!  It's all of the little wonderful moments that make up a beautiful life.  It has taken me many starts and there have been endless distractions while putting together these few words.  I have had to answer way too many questions.  I have had to comfort a fussy babe and instruct a child on proper phone call etiquette.  There are crumbs under the table, pieces of grass on the floor, and too much cleaning that needs to be done before our out-of-town guests arrive in two days.  I haven't had a shower and my tummy is rumbling with hunger.  However, there is also beautiful perfection in this day.  The sky is blue and I hear the birds and chickens.  Perfect.  My soft babe nestled on my lap while I fed him a banana and his sisters giggled at his too-big bites, repeatedly kissing his cheeks.  Perfect.  My older boys have been outside, morning chores completed, playing a rousing game of Nerf gun wars.  Perfect.  Well, maybe none of it is truly perfect but it is imperfectly beautiful...to me.  It is my beautiful life. 

Linking up with Holley Gerth and Jennifer Dukes Lee today

Wanted: Weakness

If weakness is a prerequisite for God's all sufficient grace and power, then I've got this in the bag!  You know the verse I'm referring to, don't you?  My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. 2 Corinthians 12:9.  I know this verse; I believe this truth; I've written and prayed along these lines.  But yesterday I just laughed out loud as I rehearsed it back to God.  I expressed that if weakness was the requirement for the power and grace of God to show up, then I should see more of His power than any mama I know!

I admit that I may have expressed this flippantly.  Shortly after, however, I said it with vulnerability from an honest heart.  I feel that way so often!  I want to do this mama-thing ten times better.  I fail so miserably at times.  I struggle to feel adequate or enough.  My kids deserve better has been a common theme played in my head.  I lose my patience when my 5-year-old cries in the shower (she's not fond of washing her hair in a bath right now either).  I attempt a perfectly peaceful bedtime tuck-in but fall prey to lecturing about the tidiness (or utter lack thereof) of my daughters' bedroom.  I download devotionals and realize two months later that I never read them with my children.  Plain and simple, there are many moments during my week--or days--when I feel so helplessly weak.  I cannot alone change who or how I am as a mama.  

Oh I do know the mama that I want to be!  I know her so well.  She is full of grace, forgiveness, love and creativity...and most of all she always speaks with soft gentility.  (She does not have that too-loud and sometimes harsh tone to her voice).  She hears from God about how to raise her children and she executes it flawlessly.  So much so that everyone who knows her (or follows her on Facebook) thanks her for her wisdom and grace.  Okay, truth be told, that last part made me chuckle out loud.  If you know a mama like that, be forewarned that she is most likely sharing only the good.  None of us are that good all the time!  I've had to remind myself not to compare myself with her.  Comparison is a thief of joy and is never fruitful for me or my children 

But here's the truth:  even if I could attain this perfect mama status, I would need a hefty dose...and then some!...of God's grace.  Because I've found out that I am weak.  I cannot do any of this in my own power.  I don't want to!  I truly do not want to attempt any parenting without the love and help of God.  I have made an absolute mess of things, as a mama, plenty of times by disobeying his word or not following his example.  But I know that I can come back to his truth and example, and try again.  He has given me grace a thousand times over.  So while it's possible that I may always dream of a better version of me, I hope that my kids remember God's grace and love when they think of their childhood and when they think of their mama.  This would mean that his grace was certainly sufficient in my life and in our home.  

My favorite beatitude has always been Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Matthew 5:3  When I think of poor, I think of helpless.  No, I have not done an inductive Greek study of this particular passage.  But it has encouraged me more times than I can recount.  I have been reminded that when I am helpless, only God can get me through.  I want that dependence on him, no matter how uncomfortable it always is.  He has given me and my husband five little lives to shepherd...and they daily bring me to my knees, dependent on his strength.  I don't always love the feeling, quite honestly, but I would not want to have it any other way than finding myself helpless and in need of God's power and grace to get me through.

In a book I'm slowly reading, I read a few sentences that brought tears to my eyes as I identified with the author.  To preface the quote, she was having a moment complaining to God about her feelings of inadequacy and lack of beauty or charm.  I pictured how I so often feel as a mama.  This is what God impressed upon her heart: 

If I'd made you physically beautiful, you'd be admired.  If I'd made you with showy talent, you'd be held in awe.  If I'd birthed you to a wealthy family, you'd be envied.  If I'd given you exceptional intellect, you'd be relegated to ivory towers.  [If I'd made you a Pinterest-perfect, soft-spoken, patient and solely wise mama, you'd never depend on me to mother.]  Instead, [Stephanie], I made you a bit lumpy, gave you an unexceptional face, commonplace capabilities, unremarkable talents, [average mama-abilities].  You see, for the good works I prepared in advance for you to do, I needed an average, ordinary woman to [parent with grace and] identify with a great many others just like you.*

I took some liberty with the quote, but it spoke to my heart.  God encouraged me to remember that he never intended me to do this mama-thing alone.  It was never his plan for me to have perfect reactions, words, and insights all the time.  When would I need him if that is how I mothered?  Maybe you feel desperately in need of his power and grace in your parenting.  Or maybe in another area.  I think we all do in some area of our life at any given moment...if we're honest with ourselves.  His all-sufficient grace is there.  He gives us exactly how much we need every time we ask.  

*quote from Carole Mayhall, When God Whispers:  Glimpses of an Extraordinary God By an Ordinary Woman

I'm Having Coffee For Your Heart with my friend Holley Gerth today

Desperation, An Opportunity In Disguise

God, if I could have just one prayer answered concerning my mothering, it would be this:  please, please help me...change me...enable me to see and love my children through your eyes...please!  I'm desperately asking this of you.  I cannot love them on my own.

I uttered this prayer not long ago as I pondered attitudes and behaviors that I have encountered in my children that have perplexed me and left me feeling desperate.  Desperation.  Not the greatest starting point of a prayer of faith.  Or is it?  I can think of several biblical stories wherein the main character saw a prayer answered dramatically and speedily.  More times than not that character had finally come to a point of desperation.  

As I prayed and wept, I had one child in mind specifically.  To say I struggled with this one was putting it mildly.  Do I even like her?  I wonder if I should have ever become a mama?  I wish I had never become a mama.  I am so discouraged.  Why does everything turn into a battle?  I have no clue how to deal with her any longer.  There you have it:  the ugly, and yes...incredibly shameful place I was emotionally.  Those were statements I had thought or had spoken aloud to myself.  I felt unbelievably desperate.  Now, while I understand that a more seasoned mama may be thinking If you think you have it bad now, you haven't even approached the teen years...I am where I am and where I am is where I am.  Maybe mama, you can relate to how I felt, or maybe not.  Nonetheless, I think we all have experienced desperation before.  And I have decided it's a good launching pad for God to take over.

I had no idea that the same day I uttered this simple prayer to God, He would answer it in an unexpected way.  He answered it by giving me an opportunity.  And not even with the same child.

The school bus roared away as my oldest son meandered down the driveway.  After dropping his blue backpack on the bench he slowly unwrapped his granola bar.  I could tell something wasn't right.  He kept turning a paper over in his hands and reluctantly handed it to me, embarrassment shone in his deep brown eyes.  Somehow I got 10 demerits and I didn't even do anything!  I initially thought, What now?  The truth took a little longer to unravel.  He was partially guilty and partially innocent.  Regardless, some serious life lessons were going to result.  The most unfortunate of these was losing the privilege to attend the final fifth grade field trip...one I wished I could accompany him on because it sounded profoundly interesting!  I felt disappointed for him.  Honestly, I'm not certain that the punishment fit the crime in this case, but a consequence is a consequence and I am not going to bat for him on every issue.  He would have to suffer the consequence and learn from it.  

We talked, and I knew his dad would talk with him later.  He knew his wrong.  I peered out the kitchen window, watching him bounce the basketball in the driveway, and I hurt for him.  Oh, how I wished I could have been with him to remind him of good choices...and self-control...and consequences.  But he is on his own during the school day, facing tests of character regularly.  I couldn't change that.  Nor could I take away the sting of the consequence he would face.  But I could do something.  I could love him the way God loves me when I mess up royally--which can be a daily an hourly occurrence in my life!  Admittedly, I didn't ponder all of this until after my later interaction with him.

Before dinner, he came into the kitchen to collect the basket for our chickens' eggs, and he quietly whispered I'm sorry mom.  What are you sorry for?, I asked him.  I'm sorry that I got in trouble and for what I did.  That he would apologize to me--not one directly offended or wronged--showed me that he was remorseful and had already learned an incredible lesson.  I wrapped him in a bear hug.  I told him that I loved him no matter what!  He asked me if I would love him still even if he got 100 demerits.  I answered, without any hesitation, Yes.  I would love you even if you got 100 demerits.  I don't want you to.  I want you to make good choices so that your life is happy and fulfilled, because rules are in place for your good in the long run.  But I will always love you no matter what.

As he walked a little lighter to the chicken coop, I realized that God had unexpectedly answered my earlier prayer.  Does God ever move in my life as I expect him to?  He gave me a surprising opportunity to show love and grace to my child, as he continually showers me with love and grace.  I make poor choices.  I use my tongue as a sword.  I lash out when I feel frustrated.  I blame others when I need to admit my wrong.  I disappoint myself and God more times than I care to admit.  And each time I do, He reminds me that I am loved and there is grace.  There is grace to try again.  There is grace to start anew.  There is grace to seek forgiveness.  There is grace to wipe away the stains of my mistakes.  He doesn't lecture or berate me.  He loves me and he embraces me with tender mercy and grace.  I was able to do that for my son, without any hesitation.  I was able to see him and love him through the eyes of God.  

My own mama's eyes are often critical and fault-finding.  God is changing me.  He is transforming the way that I love my children.  I wish it came more naturally to me, to love them as God loves me.  But admittedly, I struggle.  There are circumstances and behaviors that I want to control, and when I can't I experience frustration and disappointment.  I am a perfectly imperfect mama.  Thankfully, God gives his grace to me in this journey too.  That evening, after the interaction with my son, I felt more at peace with the child I had in mind when I prayed my prayer of desperation.  I loved her more patiently.  I answered her more gently.  I squeezed her longer and took more time to tuck her in.  Surely I am learning that a place of desperation is nothing more than an opportunity in disguise.  

Linking up with Holley Gerth and Jennifer Dukes Lee today

Endless Love

I drove down the road, sobbing salty tears of frustration and discouragement.  Once again, I felt like such a failure.  Letting out an exhausted sigh as I parked my car at the craft store, I doused my eyes with saline to mask my miserable mama's cry.  I felt lousy and weary, but I was no stranger to those feelings. 

(continue reading my story at The Ruth Experience, where I am honored to guest post today)

Fog Days, Nerf Wars, and Messy Beds

I'm not going to deny that I was happy to reset my alarm and roll over for some extra sleep, when my husband informed me at 5:28 this morning that the kids had a fog delay.  Yes, you heard me right:  fog delay. It happens out here.  We live in the country and it's perfectly flat for miles.  When there is fog, it just sits for hours.  Buses can't move along more than 20 mph.  The two-hour delay turned to three and then turned to a "fog day".  This happens!  After my rowdy kids woke up the baby and I realized I really wasn't getting any extra winks, my happiness wore off just a tad.  

You know, I was supposed to have a few quiet moments, in between loads of laundry and during my baby's nap, to read.  And I know I was supposed to write completely mostly uninterrupted...with only one baby to occupy during that time, rather than baby plus four happy-to-be-home kids.  My plans changed!  

One of the first things I encountered when I went to my room after breakfast (well, after my kids ate breakfast), was a messed-up bed.  

I make my bed almost immediately after I roll out of it, so I don't love seeing it a mess an hour later.  But you know what, today I didn't care. In fact, it made me smile!  I snapped the picture to remind myself later--on days when I just might forget.  It made me smile because I heard what went on to cause my rumpled bedspread.

My boys had played a fierce game of Nerf-gun wars just before I came upstairs.  They squealed, laughed, screamed, jumped, ran (apparently onto my bed...or under the covers), and generally had a fantastic time of it!  As I re-made my bed, I considered whether my reaction should have been to teach them to respect other's property and belongings, and make them fix my bed.  But by this time, they were on to the next bout of energetic fun.  And I realized:  sure, I could lecture them or make them fix the mess they made, but I would rather re-make my bed ten times a day if it meant they were having a blast and enjoying each other's company.  Because in many families, that is rare.  And I don't want to squelch it.  Besides, if I shut my bedroom door, their war-zone square footage is greatly decreased.  And well, that's just not as much fun!

What took place next, after I allowed them to play, rather than harping at them for messing up mama's bed?  They went outside together.  They fed worms to our chickens (sorry if that picture isn't appetizing to you!); they played a competitive game of knock-out basketball; then they played catch for a half hour.  And now?  It is clearly time for another Nerf-gun war!  

I love that they are playing together!  Seriously, I think had I fussed about my bed and communicated "appropriate ground rules", they would have felt defeated and frustrated...and given up the idea of playing altogether.  We mamas can unintentionally inhibit our children from great play and enjoyment.  Oh that we would lighten up sometimes!  Yes, I am that crazy, possibly irresponsible mom who has allowed her kids to jump on beds and off of bunks beds.  I let them play outside when it is drizzling and chilly.  And I don't faithfully correct potty-talk.  I think life (the youthful, playful, innocent child's life) is too daggone short!  I want to them be allowed to goof off, be rowdy, and get messy...although admittedly, I don't love it when my 5-year-old runs out to play in a soggy yard wearing her brand new shoes.

Honestly, any time I catch my kids playing together happily, without my direction or coaxing, my mama's heart is so delighted.  I don't know if anything in this world brings me more joy.

Sometimes plans change.  Sometimes my quiet day full of baby snuggles, a couple cups of coffee, laundry, reading, and semi-uninterrupted writing turns into ruckus, messes, and mayhem...and more coffee is required to survive it at all!  But it is a gift.  One day, my bed will remain neatly made all day...but I sure will miss the squeals and the laughter of these fog days.  Today, my greatest delight is that my plans changed.  Outside, it is still completely foggy.  And inside, those boys of mine are once again at war--Nerf war, that is.

Linking up today with Holley Gerth and Jennifer Dukes Lee

Five Minute Friday: Door

Participating once again in Five Minute Friday, where the idea is to set a timer for five minutes and write about the given prompt.  Just five minutes.  I'm not very good at this--at all--but am forcing myself to do it.  Tonight's writing prompt is: door.



The thing about doors is that you enter and you leave through them.  I'm all about entering through a great door.  God has given me, in my life, some pretty fantastic doors to walk through...to enter into something, somewhere, exciting and great. But sometimes....sometimes he asks me to walk out a door.

Sometimes he asks me to walk out the same door that he told me to walk in.  It can be confusing.  It can be strange and even lonely.  And truthfully sometimes I don't want to heed his call to leave and walk out that door.  We just want answers.  We want to understand.  We don't want to wander or feel lonely.  But at times, walking out of that door can feel lonely.  We may feel as if we are wandering.

I have come to realize the amazing truth that I am never ever alone.  When God asks me to leave--to walk out of a door--he walks with me.

Stop, Still, and Listen

My little one kept leaning forward, looking over the bench.  After many attempts to hold him back while I laced up my tennis shoes, I heard myself.  Stop Blake!  Sit still.  Listen to me.  Do you want to fall?  I'm trying to keep you from getting hurt!  Now, before you think I'm completely ridiculous for speaking to a one-year-old, who's just learning words, as if he'd understand me, let me assure you:  I already know!  I heard myself and laughed almost immediately.  But, then I heard the words again, inside my own heart.  Stop!  Sit still.  Listen to me.  Do you want to fall?  Because...I'm trying to keep you from getting hurt.  

I heard those words in my own heart, as if God had said them.  Then I realized that he has said those words to me, many times over.  Stop.  Sit still.  Be still.  Listen to me.  I love you and what I want for you is for your good.  I don't want you to lean past me or go ahead of me.  I am trying to keep you from being hurt.  But how often do I listen?  How often do I trust that he wants the best for me?  How often do I believe that he really cares whether I fall or not?  Ouch!  The not-so-pretty reality is that I find myself, at times, in a place where I need to go back to the basics of trust.  Pure trust.

For me (and for most of us), trusting in my Heavenly Father is linked to a slew of other life issues, experiences, and relationships...and how I have perceived them.  I wish it was easier.  I wish I could trust inherently.  But, that's not the case.  I read a statement earlier that confronted me, once more, with the struggle that I face again and again:  Until we settle what we believe is true about God's character, we will always question his motives.*  

In this, I am like a little child, learning to trust and fully believe that my parents want to keep me from hurt and harm...that they want the best for me.  They aren't simply trying to rain on my parade.  My one-year-old is learning the word no, but he doesn't like it.  There are adventures in cabinets and under furniture and leaning over benches that he would like to have.  But he has to learn to trust that I see the bigger picture.  I see what can happen if he leans too far over the bench.  He has to learn to listen to my voice.

The hilarious irony for me is that I don't want full-rein of my life; I find great comfort in knowing there is a God who is ultimately the author of it all. Yet, at times I fail to believe that he wants the best for me.  Sadder still, at times I doubt his love for me.  When I have moved ahead of him--when I have chosen to take the reins rather than wait to hear his prompting--it has invariably left me hurt and wanting a do-over.  When will I learn?!

Answer:  when I sit still and listen to him.  When I slow down the chaos of my life to just sit.  And breathe.  And be.  Because if I can still myself and my thoughts long enough, I will hear gentle reminders of his love.  If I will just be still.  If I will just listen.  

There is a God who loves me and you.  He loves me even more than I love my babies.  He is capable of far more perfect love than I can give.  He longs to protect us, and give us good gifts, and see us made whole from worlds of mistrust and abuse.  But, until we settle what we believe is true about him, we won't fully trust him.  People have and will let us down--that's inevitable--but God is incapable of being anything other than loving towards us.  If we can put our trust in anyone, we should learn to put our trust in him!  

Lord, my trust and my faith are so small.  I want to trust you but then I doubt and waiver.  I can be so fickle.  Thank you for being patient and gentle with me.  No matter who has loved me well or who has completely let me down, help me to learn to trust you despite the hurtful memories or painful past experiences.  Your word promises that you have good plans for me:  plans to prosper me and not harm me, plans to give me hope and a future.*  When life gets too loud, help me learn to be still so that I can hear your voice.  When I doubt your love for me, please give me gentle reminders.  Thank you.

*quote from Grace for the Imperfect Mom 
*Jeremiah 29:11

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and Holley Gerth today.