A Mother's Work Is Nevah, Evah Done! *gasp*

It's Fiction Friday, and Dancin' On Rainbows is hosting.  Here is my contribution...a little something special for the mama's out there. Please feel free to print off and give to your mom (or your husband--eh, hem!). Anyway, enjoy!

Nevah, Evah Done! *gasp*

A Godly mother’s work—nope—never done. There’s no

Mistaking that. For when she ends
One worthy task, another’s one’s begun.
To-do list long. Chores mile wide. That’s not the
Half of it.
Eyes on roam, and ears up tall, she’s
Ready to outwit.
‘
Socks from the dryer, matched, then put away, but

Wait, “I need that special shirt tonight,” her Honey calls to say.
Ohhhhhhh…can you hear her dismay? “Mayday! Mayday!”
Reality invades her--and fast--as she hears her daughter screaming.
Keenly, Mom’s able to redirect,

Incite her child’s mind to dreaming.
Satisfied, she sits for a moment…(tick tock, tick tock)...

Never mind the clock--Its ticking, her
Enemy. Dinner must be started, though,‘cuz she’s a
Volunteer at church this evening.
Even there, no reprieve—she’s on call, don’t you see—a
Ringtone or text away. And come what may,

Every wandering thought
Veers home anyway.
Endless energy
Required. Lasting love of Christ transpired.

Does a Godly mother’s work ever meet its end? Well, let me begin, with my
Opinion.
No. It is only a beginning to a larger end. That day, when her Lord
Exclaims, “Well done. Good and faithful servant”
!

Well done, Mom.

Head on over to Dancin' On Rainbows for more great fiction!

Springs of Gloom and Cheer

It's Pattering's Fiction Friday, and Yvonne at My Back Door is hosting.

Springs of Gloom and Cheer

Tears were not an item originally intended for my grocery list, but they were scribbled all over it now..

Milk.

Eggs.

Bread.

TP.

Can’t. Do. This. ANYMORE.

I QUIT.

Moments earlier, as I sat at the kitchen table trying to organize my day, the sight outside my window grabbed the shirt of my heart and wouldn’t let go. My daughter was blasting out a happy song while springing up and down on the trampoline with her favorite doll.

Up and down, singing her merry melody.

Up high with a playful kick, a bounce to her feet, then down on her bottom and up on her feet again.

Such was the state of my emotions on and off since childhood, but lately, the bouncing had seemed unbearable. Shouting on top of the mountain of cheer. Sighing in the valley of gloom. Sometimes three times in the same day.

I quit.

I’m tired of the trampoline.


“Hi, Mama,” Lilly said as she tried to catch her breath. “Mama, did you see me on the trampoline? I was jumping really high. Molly and I could almost reach the sky.”

Yes, I’ve been there many times. “I know, Sweetie, you sure you didn’t touch a cloud?”

“Maybe. What’s wrong, Mama? Your eyes are crying.”

I forced a smile. “Ohhhhh, they’re just love tears, Baby Doll.”

“Oh. Well, did you see us fall too, Mama? I landed right on top of Molly and made her sad.” Lilly rocked her Molly doll back and forth, just like I had rocked Lilly so many times when I’d made her sad with my topple down of emotions.

“Molly knows how much you love her, Sweetie. You’d never fall down on her on purpose, would you?”

She smacked a kiss on the doll’s braided hair. “Nooooo, never,” Lilly vowed through gritted teeth. “I love my Molly tooooo much,” She snuggled her close as she sprang to the next room.

And I love you too much, Lilly. I juggled the spinning saucers of solutions in my mind, trying to catch each one before they broke in self-defeat. My sister had been begging me to see a counselor. My best friend was absolutely certain that it was time to let the doctor prescribe some meds. My husband knew that a good workout and diet plan would balance out my hormonal teeter-totter. My spiritual mentor reminded me to pray more, memorize more Scripture. Truth be told, I knew ALL of the advice was sound, but I lacked the clarity to know what to do first.

God help me. It’s too confusing. I can’t do this.

Lilly’s piano lesson shattered my defeated thoughts. “Mommy made me mash my M&Ms. Do, Doooo,” Up and down her warm-up scales she went, pedal all the way to the floor. Over and over. Each note ricocheted on the walls of my nerves. “Mommy MADE ME MASH my M&Ms. Do DOOOOO!!!!”

Eyes shut now, I could hardly bear the extra noise causing confusion to swell within my chest. I leaned against the kitchen counter, then melted into it.

“Sing with me, Molly,” Lilly coached. “Now this one’s extra important, Molly, okay? So sing it with all your heart to Jesus. Open the eyes of my heart, Lord. Open the eyes of my heart.”

Lilly’s precious voice singing the song I'd sung to her over and over again invited my tears to join in. They streamed like hot summer rain down my cheeks.

“I want to see you. I want to see you...”

That’s what I want too. Lord, show me what to do.

“…LOUDER, Molly. To see You high and lifted up. Shining in the light of Your glory Pour out Your power and love. As we sing holy, holy, holy.”

The Holy Spirit poured out His counsel to me, and I knew what to do...

While Lilly and Molly sang up and down the scales of “holies,” I laid down my pride and picked up the phone - because I was tired of the trampoline.

“He lifted me out of the pit of despair,

out of the mud and the mire.

He set my feet on solid ground

and steadied me as I walked along.”

Psalm 40:2 

***"Open The Eyes of My Heart"
Words and Music by Paul Baloche

*****If you or someone you know needs help with depression or mood swings, I’m here to pray. Also, don’t hesitate to call a close friend you trust, a compassionate ministry leader or a professional Christian Counselor.

A few ministries I trust are as follows:
http://www.hopefortheheart.org/site/PageServer?pagename=hlp_one_on_one
http://www.needhim.org/
http://cornerstonethefoundation.blogspot.com/

If Walls Could Tattle

I'm so excited to be a part of Patterings Friday Fiction today! I haven't done so in quite awhile. I've been working on this story on and off in my spare time for over six months, and it's finally finished! I pray it reaches the heart of a family that needs the message it has to offer...

For more great fiction, go knock on Yvonne's Back Door. She's hosting the story-telling this week.

If Walls Could Tattle…

I always knew my bedroom closet was small, but now its walls were closing in on me. It was as though the blouses hung there only to smother me, the belts to strangle me.

What is wrong with me? How did I get here? I could hear the baby screaming in the next room, but she sounded miles away. Echoes of “Mom?” “MOM!” “Where are you, Mom?” came from the voice of my preschooler, but his voice was getting farther away, almost to the place where I could hear the Sesame Street theme song.

I just need a few minutes. Pleeease, Lord, please give me a few minutes. “God, what is happening to me?” I whined.

In double time, the activities from the week gone-by sprinted through my mind. I sat curled up and hunched over my knees on the floor, shoving the stinky shoes as far away from me as I could with my fists.

My heart was racing as I recalled each day, though I don’t know why. I spoke at a MOPS event on Monday. Couldn’t have gone better. Tuesday was Amber’s 18-month immunizations. Lots of tears, but no side effects like Joey had at her age. Wednesday, laundry and church. Now what happened on Thursday? Thursday was a blur, and my heart began to race faster. Thursday…was that yesterday?…Oh, I talked to my mother on the phone, then a nap. Or maybe that was two days ago…

I tried to breathe deeply, but I couldn’t drink in enough oxygen. A pain went through my forehead, while the pounding and thumping of my heart continued. Now the phone was ringing. I wanted to get up, but couldn’t. I heard my mother’s voice over the answering machine in the room beside me.

“Lori, hey, this is Mom. This is the third time I’ve called, and I tried your cell phone too. Are you okay? I’m starting to get worried. Please call me.”

I wanted to pick up, but knew I couldn’t. She’ll think I can’t handle being a mom—again.

Joey was nearer than before. “Mom, where are you?”

Bare footsteps squeaked on the floor next to the closet. It was as if he could hear me breathing. Then a trio of knocks tapped on the door.

“Mom?”

“Just a second, Honey,” I squeezed out of my falsetto voice, the only way I could fake a calm.

“Gramma, I found her. She’s in the closet, just a second.”

I heard him plunk the phone down on the bathroom counter and then tiptoe clumsily out of the room. Why did he have to pick up the phone? Pulling myself to my knees, then to my feet, I steadied my stance against the closed door. I took a deep breath to calm myself for the realities that lay ahead of me as I opened the closet door. The piercing sounds of Amber’s cries, no longer muffled, shot straight to my nerve endings. 

“Hello?” The mirror in front of me reflected a plastic smile, but it couldn’t reveal my bitterness toward this unwanted phone conversation. “Yes, Mom, I’m fine.” I combed through my matted, tangled hair with trembling fingers and rushed to comfort the baby. “I was in the closet because I was getting dressed, Mother,” I snipped, nearing Amber’s room.

It was as if I were fifteen again, and no one in the world could understand me. Not even me. But especially my mother, I thought. Her words fell on deaf ears. “How long has the baby been crying, Lori? Has she eaten? You know you’ve got to feed her more often than you did Joey, right? She’s not like Joey. Each child is unique, Lori.”

“Um-huh,” I said, trying my best to ignore the experience I detested in her. I knew I could never measure up to her perfection.

“Lori, are you listening? You know I love you, right? Is Dave helping you around the house? I’m worried you might have post-partum depression, Hon. Do you feel sad and overwhelmed?”

What would she know about overwhelmed? “No, Mom,” I huffed, “I’m not sad, and I’m not overwhelmed.” I bounced Amber up and down across my chest, nearly gagging over a whiff of her reeking diaper.

Joey walked in and handed me a remote control. “Mom, I can’t understand the TV. Can you fix it?” The sound of Spanish voices blared from the next room. “Hurry, Mom, I’m missing the best part,” he whined, pinching his nose to avoid the smell.

Interrupting her unsolicited expertise, I announced, “Mom, I’m gonna let you go. I gotta fix the TV and change a diaper, okay?” I paced back and forth as she droned on. “No, I don’t need your help. I’m fine. You just called at a busy time, that’s all. But I really need to go. I’ll call you later.”

Before she could start her next sentence, I handed the phone back to Joey, and I fought back the tears.

***

Two more of Joey’s favorite shows had passed, as well as two more tantrums from my toddler. And now the only sobs I could hear were my own. The bedroom closet, which held close my secrets of overwhelming sadness, had now become my closest companion.

Author's note: If you need help with postpartum depression, PLEASE stop lying to yourself, and do NOT hide. Your husband, a family member, your church, a licensed Christian counselor or a reputable doctor can help you find a solution. Even if you have not had postpartum with previous children, it can happen. I know, because it happened to me...

Also, I'd be happy to pray for you or even share my personal story if you need extra encouragement. Just press the "Email Me" button on my blog sidebar.

In the Key of HE,

Allison Faith's Special Ministry

I slept in the other morning, which I hardly ever do, and I came down the stairs to find my daughter in my chair having MY quiet time. Well, it was her quiet time, but it blessed me to see her catching this vision of her mama.

I'm posting this merely to capture it as a photo in my mind forever. I hope it encourages you who are reading in some way.

She and I sat down last evening to put the frame around it and share her favorite memorized verse. It convicted me and reminded me how important this verse is in the Christian life. He has saved me, and I have HIS Spirit living through me each and every day. Will I be faithful to this gift today? Tomorrow? Each moment?

Sleepin' in shouldn't even be in my VOCAB! :D Thank you, Allison Faith, for reminding me why I get up before you each morning! You ministered to me!

On a side note: Allison picked the colors, the fonts, the design, the frame, everything. That makes it that much more special to her mama! :D

In the Key of HE,

Maybe We Should Hang Out At The Well Longer...

Natalie at I am (not) is hosting At the Well today, and wow, is her place beautiful!!! What a perfect person to host this week's topic: Our homes. She says, "Our home is an extension of who we are. How does your home reflect who you are?"

This is an incredible subject, so well, why don't we hang out a little longer at the well? Sure, it would be more comfy to sit in my cafe style living room sipping a freshly brewed latte from my espresso machine, but my laundry is stacked a mile high, dirty dishes line my counter and sink, and well, my kids may or may not be out of their pajamas yet. No, I'm thinkin' we better just stay here. It's easier than having to admit that I'm a classified, certified "Messy." Thank goodness I don't live in a glass house. I'm thinkin' a stained glass one is more in order. Catch my drift?

This would've been my exact thoughts a few years ago, but God has set me free from them. First of all, He's helped me to develop the discipline to at least keep things picked up, AND to make my kids responsible to help around the house. Secondly, He's helped me to accept the way I'm wired. Not everyone is built to be a Domestic Diva, and that's okay. The Lord wants us to be good stewards of what He's given us, so we must develop the discipline to do so. But He also wants us to be good stewards of our gifts, our talents and our salvation. It's a constant balancing act, but I believe my home reflects that balance most of the time.

If our home is an extension of who the Shaws are, then what you will see is a family who is seeking to follow the Lord's priorities for us. Sometimes, the homefront is messy and unstructured while our service to others is in full force. Every now and then, the smell of pine cleaner mixed with coffee will seep through the screen windows, hopefully with a melody of loud praise songs bursting from my daughters and me (and no, I don't let them drink the coffee...that's so I can keep up with them). My teenage son does his share of chores as well, but his tune is more of a grunt and a few deep groans. ;)

I think...maybe...I hope that if our family lived in a glass house, that people would instantly want to come in. I hope they could see past the occasionally messiness and lack of structure and see our hearts instead. I pray that they would want to join in with our devotion times and prayer times. I have a feeling they would enjoy being entertained by my two highly imaginative daughters. Maybe they would even enjoy playing some basketball in the backyard or playing a game of the Wii with my son. Hey, I wouldn't mind a little help with the homeschool work, either. ;) They might want to skip meal time, but snack time is pretty nice... They would see a lot of laughter and just as many tears. Hopefully, our realness and lack of pretense would draw them in and not scare them away. We often pray that we would be a home undivided with hearts that serve the Lord. We've got a ways to go there, though. ;)

So that's my story. Have I made you want to come for a visit or have I scared you away? Regardless, you're welcome anytime, but you miiiiiiiiight want to leave your expectations for perfection at the door. Purty please? ;)

Joshua 24:15b
"...as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord."

Tangled Reflections

Yvonne at My Back Door is hosting Fiction Fridays today, so hop on over there for more great fiction.

The bathroom mirror reflected more than outward appearances that day. Nancy’s grim face was lined with frustration, and her eight-year-old daughter was shrieking with anger.

“Moooooom, You’re hurrrrrrrrting my head! STOP!” Splotchy patches of pink covered Melissa’s tear-stained face.

“I’ve told you a hundred times to comb your hair every day, Missy.” Nancy’s biting continued. “These are your consequences. When you don’t comb your hair out, it gets tangles. Then when you do try to comb your hair out, it hurts. It’s as simple as that.” She couldn’t help patterning the strokes of the hairbrush after the rhythm of her nagging tone.

“OUCH, not so hard, Mom. It hurrrts.”

Her shrill sobbing sent a twinge of pain through Nancy’s forehead. “Yeah, well it hurts me when you don’t obey me. Your room is a mess. The house is a mess. YOU’RE a mess.”

Having had enough of her mom’s condescending tone and painful grooming, Melissa shouted, “FINE, then give me the brush and I’LL fix it.” She yanked angrily away from her mother and grabbed the sweaty hairbrush from her.

“Go ahead, you do that!” Nancy slammed the bathroom door behind in a huff.

I’m so sick of the whining. Doesn’t she know how much that grates on my nerves? Nancy grabbed a wet towel off the floor and started up again. “Wrinkled wet towels get moldy, you know.”

As she stomped through Missy’s messy room, she stepped on a sharp Lego. “ow, Ow, OW!” She could still hear her daughter sobbing behind the closed door as she hopped on one foot through the hallway.

Why do I even bother? “NOBODY helps me around here, and I’m just so sick of all the mess. PLEASE STOP CRYING.”

“I hate it when you’re frustrated! Why can’t you just be patient?” Melissa lashed out at her mother loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

Even through the walls, Melissa’s tantrum sent waves of frustration through Nancy’s body. She put her hands over her ears and proceeded to the kitchen. “Better start getting supper ready. Who even cares that I haven’t had a chance to clean up from lunch yet?” She slammed a pot down on the stove burner. “No ONE. That’s what I thought.”

She looked out her kitchen window and noticed a hummingbird outside as she washed her hands. Her stained-glass sun catcher reflected a convicting message: 'And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:7.'

All of a sudden, she noticed the house was totally silent. Oh, thank goodness, she’s finally quit crying. "I’m so sorry, Lord. Please help me to spread peace instead of anger.”

Nancy began to feel compassion for the small trauma that her daughter was experiencing and decided she would turn it into a teachable moment. I’m the mother. I’m supposed to be the calm one. Before she could get to her, the wailing had begun again.

“Ma-maaaaaa. Help!”

Nancy ran the rest of the way. When she opened the bathroom door and looked at her daughter in the mirror, she could not believe her eyes. Although her heart was racing, she kept a tender tone. “Sweetheart, what did you do?”

Little Melissa was standing in a pile of jet-black hair. She sniffled and whimpered in between words. “I—was--sooo—mad—at—you. I wanted to make you mad, but now…” She looked in the mirror again and started to yowl. “Now look at iiiiiit. I look like a weeeirrrrrdoooo.”

Scooping Melissa up in her arms, she overcame the horror she felt at the sight of her beautiful daughter’s hair. It was ruined beyond help. Melissa’s school scissors lay on the vanity surrounded by locks of tangled curly hair.

God, please help me work through this tangled mess I’ve made.

“Sweet Missy, I am so sorry for my anger,” Nancy whispered into her daughter’s hair-filled ears. As she noticed a near bald spot right above her ear, she kissed it tenderly. “Next time we’re mad at each other, Mommy will just stop and say a prayer, okay?”

Melissa whimpered. “I’m sorry, too. She dug her shagged hair into her mama’s neck. “I feel so ugly, Mama. Can we stop and pray now?”

Yes, the bathroom mirror reflected more than outward appearances that day. Nancy’s grim face was lined with regret, and her eight-year-old daughter was sobbing with sorrow. But the glorious reflection of God’s grace shone brightly through it all as they prayed.


*Scripture reference taken from the NIV.

In the Key of HE,

A Day In My Life As Mama, from A to Z

This is a mini writing challenge I did for Faithwriters a little while back. I thought it would be fun to share here, since it is singing my lifesong (well, a somewhat dramatized and exaggerated form of it) in the form of the alphabet.

The A to Z Challenge

1) Use the entire alphabet - A to Z
2) 26 lines - it does NOT have to be a poem - and try to stay on one topic!
3) Alphabet letters can appear at the beginning, middle or end of the words--for example: Xerox Example Fox
4) No word limit

************

Austin, AnaLee and Allison, aka, the “A” Team, are part of the sanctification process for me. Before I say much else, please don’t hold the following information against me or report me to the authorities.

Caring for the “A” team is a blessing, but it isn’t always a picnic. Drama—our home is all about it, as I am probably considered the capital "D" Director of it. Except for an occasional calm day, there is almost always some sort of ordeal.

For one, my oldest child—my new GIANT son (now taller than me)—is beginning to seem a little like Jekyll and Hyde. Growing into a Gigantor overnight isn't easy, I'm sure, but it has to be easier on him than it is on me. He used to be my little compliant baby boy, but now I’m compelled to keep all eyes on him—even the ones in the back of my head. I know I can’t be there every second, but I regularly remind him that God sees, even when I’m otherwise occupied.

Just when I think I’m getting through to him, it’s time for my second child, AnaLee to work the drama. Keeping an eye on her is not a problem at all, as she makes sure she is in my constant view (and earshot). Lots of love can be lost between the two of us if I am not loving her God’s way. Maybe that’s because we are so much alike. Needing extra time in the spotlight, she regularly belts out her favorite song.

“Open the eyes of my heart, Lord" will bellow from her throat voice loud enough to open my ears wide, too. “Pretty, sing pretty,” I remind her. Quick to earn my praise, she then sings the way God made her to sing, bringing this mama to tears.

Running around the house all the while—or should I say “RrrrUFF”ing around the house, is my youngest, as she is a dog freak. Speaking in Spot’s language, she will beg all of us, any of us, to pull her around on her leash as she dutifully plays her role of ‘Man’s Best Friend.’ To add to the chaos, our REAL dog, ABBY (yes, another “A”), decides to snip and snap at Ally-Spot, because she doesn’t like the competition. Unruliness can become an issue, so I often have to step in before someone ends up getting bit by ONE of the dogs in the family.

Visiting friends regularly comment on the less than ideal noise level in my home, but they are kind to stop before making me feel too terrible about my parenting skills, or the lack thereof. What’s this desperate, dramatic, David-like mama to do? X-rays of the head may be considered in my near future, but I'll have to keep you posted on that idea.

You may be thinking about calling ‘Super-Nanny’ on my behalf, but first let me request a favor: Zoom out, and you will see a mama who loves her kiddos, all the way from A to Z, and I’m so thankful that God never stops parenting ME.

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, 

that we should be called children of God! 

And that is what we are!” 

1 John 3:1a

How bout ya'all? Any of you need a blog post to write? Give the challenge a try if you dare!

In the Key of HE,

A Mother's Testimony At the Well

"Each day of our lives we make deposits
in the memory banks of our children.
~Charles R. Swindoll, The Strong Family

A little girl, asked where her home was,
replied, "where mother is."
~Keith L. Brooks
 

Great quotes. I thought they would be particularly helpful to start the topic brought up by Penny who is hosting us At the Well today. Thanks to Chelsey for continuing to sponsor the At the Well meme each week.

As I thought through Penny's topic of encouraging our daughters, I couldn't help but think back to my own childhood. Especially since my mom passed away two years ago this week (Sept. 11th, 2006).

I regularly feel the void of a mother/daughter relationship from the "daughter" side of things. My mother was physically and mentally disabled, so I wasn't taught many of the domestic lessons that many moms teach their kids. But, praise the Lord, in His infinite grace and goodness, He gave me a mother who depended on Him for her every breath. Her chronic pain and depression could have turned her to many other ways of coping, but instead she chose the way of the cross. And guess what? I now carry that legacy. So does my sister.


This is the last picture my sister and I had with our mom before she passed away.

So my focus of Penny's three questions (which I will list at the end of this post) is her #1 question: "How do you encourage your daughters in relationship with the Lord?

I teach them what I learned from my mama--to depend on the Lord for everything, to love His Word and to love the church. That is the best encouragement I can give them, because all the other stuff I'm sorta wingin' and learning from others as I go along.

I wasn't taught to follow a recipe for a meal, but I was taught to follow THE recipe for living.
I wasn't taught to clean house, but I was taught to live a clean life.
I wasn't taught to iron, but I was taught to take my wrinkled life before the Lord for perfecting.

And I'm overwhelmingly thankful I learned from her that it is in being weak and broken that I can truly be strong, God-strong.

I'm not saying that the teaching of domestic duties should not be emphasized with our daughters...nothing is farther from the truth. The Bible talks about these important qualities in Titus 2 and Proverbs 31. I'm only saying that I'm probably not the source of expertise on them... ;) I'm hoping as I meet other mothers at the well today I will glean wisdom and insight into improving these areas in motherhood. And maybe someone else can glean from mine.

I truly, truly, truly pray that each woman at the well sees my heart on this subject and that my testimony can encourage another mother who thinks that she can't do the parenting thing for whatever reason. Think about it: if you cannot do one other thing, you can show your daughters how much you love and depend on the Lord, how to open their Bibles and live by it, and give them the love and affection that Christ has given you.

Deuteronomy 6:5-9 (NIV)
"Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates."

Would love for you to meet us at the well for discussion today. Here are Penny's questions for discussion. Which one can you tackle?
Discussion Questions:
As mothers we have the ability to shape furture generations through our children. Our daughters are not only ours but first and foremost daughters of HIM. The relationship they have with Jesus will affect all they do, now in our homes and later in their own. Having a married daughter expecting her first child, I have been blessed to see this all come full circle, Well almost, the circle seems to grow bigger all the time. I am really excited about sharing this week :)
#1 How do you encourage your daughters in their relationship with the Lord?
#2 How do you encourage them in areas of domestic service in your home?
#3 How do you encourage them in their future of loving their husbands and their own children, and also being content if marriage isn't in God's plan for them?

What's on your mind when you read these? Pleeeeeeeease take the time to share, and to go and learn from other Godly wise women at Penny Raine's blog. I can't wait!

In the Key of HE,

Stop, Look & Listen

Actor & Comedian Ray Romano is quoted as saying, “The more I go through parenting, the more I say I owe my mother an apology.” Too funny and TOO true! As a mother of an eight, ten and thirteen-year-old, I can honestly say that I don’t know what I’m doing a good majority of the time. Some days, the goin’ is pretty good. However, when “those” times come—the ones where behavior problems, entitlement issues and disrespect rise up---then I lean on the wisdom of the great parents I know who have gone before me.

One of the best nuggets of advice I ever received on taming “those” behaviors was several years ago from a mother of five. She suggested starting with three things before trying any kind of punishment: 1. Get eye contact (have them stop what they’re doing and look me in the eye), 2. Cut back verbal freedom (no interrupting…stay still & listen) & 3. Require a verbal and physical response (“Yes, mom.”). After laughing under my breath at this simplistic method, I decided it was worth a try--and let me just say, I was amazed at the results. When I expected them to pay attention to me, look me in the eye, show respect in the middle of it, and then have them agree with me at the end, (as long as I applied it consistently,) we had a whole new relationship of great conversation, mutual respect & order in our household.

Could the same be true in our spiritual lives as well? One might be quoted as saying, “The more I go through parenting, the more I say I owe my Heavenly Father an apology.” The correlation is truly amazing. God is our Father, and “those” times come for us as His sons and daughters, too. Could the same three actions listed above apply in the relationship with our Father as well?

Action #1: Give Him Eye Contact

“I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? Psalm 121:1
“I lift up my eyes to you, to You whose throne is in heaven.” Psalm 123:1
“But my eyes are fixed on You, O Sovereign LORD; in You I take refuge…” Psalm 141:8a
“A discerning man keeps wisdom in view, but a fool’s eyes wander to the ends of the earth.” Proverbs 17:24
“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith…” Hebrews 12:2

Point #2: Cut Back on our Verbal Freedoms

“But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear.” Matthew 13:16
“Be still, and know that I am God…” Psalm 46:10a
“but I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother,
like a weaned child is my soul within me.” Psalm 131:2
“even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent, and discerning if he holds his tongue.” Proverbs 17:28
“….turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding…” Proverbs 2:2

Point #3: Grant Him a verbal & physical response

“…I answered, ‘Amen, LORD.’” Jeremiah 11:5b
“In Damascus there was a disciple named Ananias. The Lord called to him in a vision, ‘Ananias!’
‘Yes, Lord,’ he answered." Acts 9:10b
“I will hasten and not delay to obey your commands.” Psalm 119:60
“He replied, ‘Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it.’” Luke 11:23
“This is love for God: to obey His commands. And His commands are not burdensome….” 1 John 5:3

If we can ask children to “Stop, Look & Listen” before they cross the street, maybe we can remind ourselves to do the same before we kick off the comforter. And the exclamation mark can be to end our day in obedience! This is impossible to do on our own, friends. Just as a youth needs a loving parent to help him do these things, so we need our Daddy’s help as well. When we ask Him for it, He will not disappoint us: “’Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit,’ says the Lord Almighty.” (Zechariah 4:6b) By the guidance of the Holy Spirit, hopefully each of us can be heard quoting the following: “The more I submit to His parenting, the more I say ‘Yes, Lord’ to my Heavenly Father in place of an apology.” Amen and AMEN!

In the Key of HE,

One, Two, Skip A Few

Allison doesn't like to wait. She's my youngest of three, and she typically manages to find some way to get what she wants (within the boundaries, of course). If I'm not available to get or do something for her right when she wants it, she works her way down the family "chain." Whoever wants to get rid of her the fastest (she talks a LOT) usually caves in to her request. It's not always like this, but more often that I'd like to admit.

We're working on this formed habit, but sometimes she just says something that totally cracks me up. Last month I told her that I'd look at dogs on the internet with her in a few minutes, and she said, "Do you mean Mommy minutes?"

I asked, "Mommy minutes?"

She put her hand on her hip and looked up at me with all four of her eyes, using her other hand to help her talk. "Yeah, mommy minutes. Your minutes are longer than mine."

I could not contain my laughter or the urge to pick her up and kiss her cheeks all over.

So this morning, she did it again while I was giving her older sister the morning snuggle. "Mom, is it my turn to snuggle?"

"A few more minutes, Honey."

Then she sped-said, "One, two, skip a few, 59, 60.....One, two, skip a few, 59, 60....okay, it's been a few minutes."

Ohhhhhhhhhh myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.


I can't help but think how many times I've said "one, two, skip a few, 59, 60" to my Heavenly Father. I did yesterday. And even this morning. Why is it so difficult for this baby daughter to wait, especially since I KNOW that He has good things in store for me? I'd rather pull an Allison and go from one thing to the next until I get my way...but He wants me to wait--wait on Him. And after I've learned to wait on Him, He wants me to wait on Him patiently. And after I've learned to wait on HIm patiently, He wants me to wait on Him patiently with joy and contentment. He wants nothing less than this kind of adoration and trust from His baby girl.

So Lord, here I am today...one, two, I'll wait for You.

I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
and in His Word I put my hope.

My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.

Psalm 130:5-6 (NIV)

What Am I, Apples and Peanut Butter?

I felt rejected. And jealous. Yanking off my apron and tossing it on the table, my emotions took over my vocal chords. “What am I, Jen, apples and peanut butter?” I cried to my daughter.

She justified, “No, Mom, it’s just that Dad builds the best Lego castles, you know that.”

“Oh yeah?" Pity Party time. "Well, I know a thing or two about Lego Castles, little Miss Jenny—and you’re missing out.” I shuffled into another room to mope.

After all these years of feeding, bathing and homeschooling—day in and day out—now all they want is Dad. “Dad, can you play with me?” “Put me on your shoulders, Dad.” Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad, DAD.

Regaining my confidence, I attempted to bond with my son. “Hey, Justin—ya’ wanna show me what you’ve been destroying on SpyScape?”

“Just a minute, Mom. Dad and I are trying to win this quest together,” he replied, eyes glued to the computer.

“What do you mean? Dad’s at work,” I objected.

“Well, he’s taking his lunch break to play online with me.”

“Oh?” My bottom lip popped out--wayyyyyy out. “How fun for the two of you.”

Figures. I moped again, aimlessly wandering to the next room.

It’s not that I don’t want them to like their Dad…it’s just that all I’m known for around here is whipping up apples and peanut butter for a snack. What happened to “Her children will rise up and call her blessed?” I used to be blessed. I wanna feel like the blessed Mommy again.

Little Jen crashed my pity party. “Mom, can I call Dad?”

“No, honey, he’s busy. What do you need?”

“I want him to draw me a camel.”

“A camel—Daddy doesn’t have time to draw camels at work, Sweetie, but I’ll help you.”

Jen hung her head in polite surrender. “Welllll—okay.”

Here’s my chance to put moms everywhere in the spotlight again. My weepy heart began to swell with excitement. “Now, just let me find one on my handy, dandy Mac. I go to ‘Search’ right here, and type, ‘Camel pictures.’ See honey? This will be eeeeasy breeeezy.”

Ten minutes went by, and I could not find a single traceable picture of a camel. Jen had given up on me. “You know, who needs camels anyway? I’ll just go draw a ladybug or something.”

“NO,” I blubbered, “I’ll get you a camel…All I have to do is type in ‘Camel Coloring Book’….Bingo! Look—481,000 results. And the very first one says, ‘Camel Coloring Pages.’”

Like a triumphant warrior, I clicked on the link only to receive a message on my screen saying “SAFARI CANNOT OPEN THIS PAGE.” I clicked like a maniac, and the same dadgum message appeared over and again.

“Now can I call Daddy?” an exasperated Jen whined.

“NO, you most certainly will not bother Daddy at work.” I chomped my upper lip. “I can fix this.”

Justin yelled from upstairs. “Jenny, you don’t need to call Daddy, I’ve got him right here on I.M.”

“OH, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” she shrieked with delight as she ran to the likes of Dad via instant messenger.

All she wanted was a camel, Karen. You can’t even come up with ONE camel?

I sat there, completely defeated—defeated by Legos—defeated by technology—defeated by Dad.

The three of them are just up there gabbing away, and here I sit all alone staring at a big, ugly camel.

Apparently, Safari had found its page in Egypt or something.

“A camel?!!? Hey, Jen, I found a camel.” I turned into a giddy ninny. “Go get the camel off the printer. That didn’t come out right, but hey, who’s the bomb now? Huh?”

“Thanks, Mom, NOW I have two camels. Daddy sent me one to Justin’s email.”

Shaking my head in disbelief, a defeated smirk smeared across my face.

“Hey, Mom, everything okay?” Justin had the audacity to ask as he slithered into the room.

“Oh, Son, I’m just a big bag of crazy today. You sure you wanna open it?”

“Uhhhhhhhh, Oooo-kayyyyy...but can I open it after you slice me up some apples and peanut butter?” he said, licking his lips and rubbing his hands together. “You do it best, Mom.”

“Music to my ears, dear Justin.” I hugged him like nobody’s business, and he tolerated it.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, Mom. Dad said he loves you and that he is the most blessed man on earth.”

“He did, did he?” I suddenly realized what a lunatic I had been.

“Hey Mom, where ya goin’?”

“What am I, apples and peanut butter? I’m goin’ to call the greatest Dad on earth.”

******

Scripture reference--Proverbs 31:28, NIV

***Sentiment is all in fun, for "those" mom days...enjoy!

***Special blessings to all the dads who rock their kids' worlds. And their wives' too! :D

At the Well of Titus 2

I'm participating in an incredible new meme on Mondays created by Chelsey at Joyfully Living. It is called "At the Well: In Pursuit of Titus 2." Please click on this beee-auteeful button if you would like to find out more or participate. It is a privilege to be a part of:

Today's discussion question is as follows:

What does being a Titus 2 woman mean to you?

I've prayed about this question as I've pored over the verses. Chelsey is not asking me, "What does Titus 2 mean?" or "What does Titus 2 teach?" She's asking, "What does being a Titus 2 woman mean to me?

Depending on what mood I'm in, I could answer this question in a hundred different ways. It's an incredible question. But here's my brilliant answer for today.

To me, being a Titus 2 woman means
being a woman who waits at the well.

To keep from slandering, to run from addictions, to teach and train younger women and children, to be self-controlled, to be pure, to be busy at home, to be kind and to be subject to my husband...to be all those things makes me want to find a brown paper bag to breathe in really fast requires my willingness to wait on the Lord at the well. See, when I come to Jesus empty, thirsty, useless, needy and dependent, He will be my source for Godly living. It is His grace and His gift of salvation that makes it so:

Titus 2:11-14, NIV says, "For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. It teaches us to say "No" to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope—the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good."

I've played the tapes back time and again in my mind. Whenever I've tried to live righteously without Jesus as the source of it, I've capital-F Failed. Whenever I've depended on Jesus and trusted Him to live righteously through me, I've walked in VICTORY (and by the way, it IS possible to live in victory even when I'm having a bad day, or going through a season of trials...it doesn't mean I'm all smiles. It just means I'm God-strong).

I wish I could say that I am that Titus 2 woman at the well every single moment of every day, but...well, I wanna be. And I want to wanna be more than ever before.

How about you? What does being a Titus 2 woman look like to you? Go sign the Mr. Linky on Chelsey's page and give the question a poke or two on your blog. And we'll be women at the well of Titus 2 together today.

Aunt Rhodie's Mountain Adventure

“GO TELL AUNT RHODIE, GO TELL AUNT RHO-OH-DEEEE. GO TELL AUNT RHODIE, THE OLD GRAY GOOSE IS DEAD. GO TELL AUNT…”

And on and on and on my seven-year-old belted out. She brought Aunt Rhodie up and down the stairs into every room of the house. I’ll bet the old aunt got tired.

My twelve-year-old son had had enough. “Would you stop singing that song already?”

“NO, I can’t. You know our piano teacher said that if I sang the song it would help me play it better. I’m practicing! GO TELL AUNT RHODIE…”

My head was spinning with a combination of the loud melody and my son’s nagging.

“NOW--Ally, STOP! I’m trying to do my homework.”

“THE OLD GRAY GOOSE IS DEEEEEEEEEEEEEAD.”

My son tried a different approach. “Hey, Ally, who is Aunt Rhodie anyway?”

She ceased her melody. “How am I s’post to know who she is, Austin. I’m just a little kid.”

It was the perfect time for my nine-year-old daughter to take center stage, her voice projecting proudly. “IIIII know who Aunt Rhodie is…”

“Yeah, sure you do, Annie,” Austin smarted.

“I do,” she said proudly, “SHE’s the one who was comin’ round the mountain!!!!!”

My two daughters chimed in together while marching up and down the stairs on a mountain adventure of their own:

“SHE’LL BE COMIN’ ROUND THE MOUNTAIN WHEN SHE COMES. SHE’LL BE COMIN’ ROUND THE MOUNTAIN WHEN SHE COMES….”

Poor Austin. And poor, tired Aunt Rhodie with all that mountain climbing.

This scene, while a bit exaggerated for proper picture painting, gave me one of the best laughs I’d had in awhile. It also gave me a profoundly simple truth to chew on, which is this:

I sing God’s name, I write God’s name. I speak His name frequently and challenge others to do the same. But do I know WHO He is?

Friends, if someone were to ask you, “Who is the God you sing about anyway,” what would you tell them?

“My mouth will tell of Your righteousness, of Your salvation all day long, thought I know not its measure. I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, O Sovereign LORD.”
Psalm 71:15-16 (NIV)

We speak of His acts, His salvation, His righteousness in us and through us and others, but as the verse speaks, we could not possibly know the full measure of any of them.

It’s one thing to tell people who God is and quite another to show them. Ephesians 1:18-20 gives us a perfect example: “I pray that your hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope He has given to those He called—His holy people who are His rich and glorious inheritance. I also pray that you will understand the incredible greatness of God’s power for us who belive Him. This is the same might power that raised Christ from the dead and seated Him in the place of honor at God’s right hand in the heavenly realms.” (NLT)

Does the fact that you know Him give you confident hope? Do you understand the incredible greatness of His power? Ask Him to help you know Him better. Beg Him. Carve some time out for your True Love, the only One who can ‘fill the emptiness, replace the bitterness and empower the weakness that lies within your heart, soul, mind and body.

Take the knowledge of Him with you today, showing Him and telling of Him as you walk, sing, and yes, even do some mountain climbing. Allow Him to flood you with His light, His hope and His power—spreading it to others along the way. Maybe they’ll even start to sing His tune along with you.


• Go Tell Aunt Rhodie author unknown. Copyright unknown.

Middle Child Theory Lesson

Over and over again.

It’s a pattern.

My middle child starts acting up. I’ve tried to convince myself that the middle child theory is just that—a theory…but she works to prove me wrong. Deeply longing for my attention, she does not always go about the right way to receive it. And as if it were my first “aha” moment, I realize that some alone time would do us some good. This evening was just one of those moments.

All day, getting ready for a long trip and feeling heavily ignored, she vied for my attention, and she managed to get it…the WRONG way. Just as I thought I had a moment of escape to run a a last-minute errand, the Lord spoke to my heart: “Take her with you. The alone time will do you good.”

Noooooooooo, I want to be alone. I felt a stronger urge from Him, and I obeyed (this time).

By the end of our outing, she was cheery, loving, affectionate and compliant. She had one question and gripe after another for me, because she had been waiting to get me alone. Deprived earlier, she was now able to get her fill. I was actually refreshed afterwards too. It felt so good to see a smile on her face planted there from her heart.

I couldn’t help but reflect on our experience this evening during my own aloneness with the Lord. I am His middle child. When I don’t have the perfect amount of alone time with Him, I am miserable—squawking, moaning, whining, ungrateful…unholy. I desperately need my alone time with my Heavenly Daddy. It is absolutely essential for me.


So hopefully, as I head to the mountains…I can experience some extraordinary alone time with Him. And may I be quick to listen when He asks me to give some of that back to my own family.

Guess what…YOU are His middle child too. Be ever mindful of your need to be up close, personal and all by yourself with Him, whether in a beautiful place or in the middle of your living room. He will give you just what you need to keep your heart humming for all to hear. He is your Lifeline to love, to joy, to peace, to patience, to kindness, to goodness, to faithfulness, to gentleness and to self-control.

Together, let’s prove the middle child syndrome wrong, shall we?

Over and over again.

“You have made known to me the paths of life;
You will fill me with joy in Your presence.”
Acts 2:28, NIV