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

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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,

At the Well/Flat Ceiling Prayers

At the well today, Heather at Emotional Purity is hosting a "dry" subject, and she has even given great wisdom on the topic at her blog. I suggest you read what she has to say about spiritual dryness...it is gooooood stuff.

As for me, something specific comes to my mind, and I feel led to share it. 

I remember that moment all too well. The dishes were piled up. The laundry pile was larger than the city landfill, the kids were acting out, and I was depressed. I had truly hit bottom spiritually speaking, and my life reflected it--in my words, in my actions, in everything.

Brian's granddad was living with us at the time, I was homeschooling (part-time) three kids, had an ongoing leadership position at church (which in retrospect I should've given up for a season), Brian's dad ALSO had terminal brain cancer, and I was taking granddad back and forth to see him, and going to see him myself (because he was the only father I ever really had), and etc. It's impossible for me to capture all of the circumstances that led to suffocate the life out of me spiritually, but there I was.

Now let me just say that in my case, I was still in the Word and on my knees, so I wasn't spiritually dry in the sense that I wasn't faithful to seek Him. But I was spiritually dry in the sense that none of it penetrated my heart. My prayers felt empty. The Bible fell flat. I whined and sobbed to the Lord with my whole heart; yet, I felt like I may as well have been talking to the ceiling. I even turned to other things to try to make me feel better--food, entertainment, etc. That just furthered the wedge between the Lord and me, sending me further out into the desert.

I began to withdraw from friends, because I was tired of answering the question: "How are you doing? Do you need anything?" I wanted the phone to stop ringing, I wanted the kids to leave me alone, I wanted to curl up in a ball and hide myself deep under the sheets at the foot of the bed.

But here's what God did to all my flat ceiling prayers: He scraped them off and answered them. Not by changing my circumstances, but by changing my heart, teeny tiny little by little. He began prodding me to be thankful. His challenge came from the words of other people. He caused me to become broken and humble enough to let others in to help. Friends brought us meals, sent cards, prayed for me without my even knowing it, sent emails of encouragement, and on and on.

Before long, I was out of the pit and walking with joy in the valley. Not every second, but most of them. I was still exhausted, weepy and at the end of myself, but I was God-strong. He held me up through the arms of others, and kept me there through the power of His Word. The Lord, my Saviour, my Redeemer pulled me out of the pit by my shirt collar and gave me these verses to hold onto:

Psalm 40:1-3
I waited patiently for the LORD;
he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear
and put their trust in the LORD.

If you are there right now--no matter the circumstances--smack dab in the middle of spiritual dry, don't stop crying out to God. Don't stop reaching out to Him. Even if it feels like your cries are falling flat to the floor or sticking to the roof of the ceiling. Even if you're walking around in puddles of tears. Even if you can't walk at all. The enemy wants to get you alone to tempt you, He wants you to withdraw, He wants you to seek other "stuff" to fix you up right, but it will lead to further separation from the Lord, the Only One who can heal what needs fixing. This isn't a formula, it's straight from Truth. Did you read those verses closely?

And it's almost impossible to understand if you're in the pit right now, but those last verses are so, so, so true as well. When the new song comes, filled with praise, many will see it and put their trust in the Lord. I'm a living, breathing witness of this truth.

Let me know your thoughts, and remember to head on over to Heather's for insightful teaching on the subject.

In the Key of HE,

Giveaway a Comin'

My hundredth post is right around the corner, and in honor of it, I want to do a giveaway. But before I tell you what it is...

I read this quote hanging on the wall of a church last year, and it moved me so much I wrote it down:

"Grant that what we sing with our lips,
we may believe in our hearts~
And what we believe in our hearts,
we practice in our lives."
Fred D. Gealy

Sounds simple, but it's really pretty deep. How many songs do we sing without even thinking about what we're declaring? It's not that we don't mean them deep down, it's just that we aren't paying attention to them. Then there are times we are in complete realization of what we're singing, but we feel like liars because we're not a livin' the way we're a singin'. You know?

Or maybe it's just me. But this IS my blog, so I'll keep blah, blah blogging about it. After all, there is a freebie involved. (wink)

Anyway, IF you are interested in winnin' what I'm givin', here's whatcha gotta do to earn the chance.

Give me a testimony (I don't care how long) about a song that deeply changed the way you live. Where were you when you sang it? Did it sink in right at the time or later? What happened in your life as a result? How many times had you sung the song before?

If you dedicate a whole blog post to this subject on your own blog, I will put your name in the "hat" twice (just let me know when you've posted it). OR If you reply to this blog or email me through the button on my sidebar, I will put your name in the "hat" once. This needs to be done before my 100th post, which is, well, hmmmmm, probably by Wednesday of next week. My husband and I will randomly draw from the "names in the hat," and I will announce the winner AND the prizes (yes, I said prizes, plural) that day.

And a bonus: If the winner so chooses, I will post the testimony they submitted on my site as a "Lifesong in the Limelight." (This is something I'm considering for the future anyway as a regular deal.)

So whatcha think? I"m just a little, teeny tiny bit excited. I hope you are too. For those of you that are wondering if it is worth it to get involved, think great book and great music, then decide...I can't wait to hear your testimonies.

In the Key of HE,

Hotel Doors

*Joanne Sher, over at An Open Book is hosting Patty Wysong's Fiction Fridays meme today. For more great fiction or to post your own fiction piece, click here.



Hotel Doors
My heart is thumping through my chest with nervous anticipation. I look in the bathroom mirror of my hotel room, fluffing the matted hair from my forehead. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. You can do this, Jaimee. I smile, but my cheeks hurt from smiling all day, so I try on a sensuous look instead. Okay, now you just look like a dork. Come on. Act natural. You’ve been waiting for this moment your whole life.

A gentle knock, followed by my love's tender voice distracts me from my one-woman counseling session. “Sweetie, you okay?"

I smile in the mirror as if I'm talking to him face-to face. "It's all good, Hon. I...might need some extra time, K?"

“Of course, punkin, just makin' sure you didn't change your mind. (nervous chuckle) Take your time...um...you know how much I love you, right?”

Aghast, his words trigger a horrible memory. Those words. “Take your time...” and “you know how much I love you, right?”

The diagonal stripes on the wallpaper blur as I brave an answer: "Yup...you're stuck with me...and I love you too..." Grabbing both sides of the sink for balance, I look up in the mirror and see a younger me--same matted hair, different dress. Then, a knock on the door echoes from the past.


“Jaimee, unlock the door. We can talk about this. Let me in, okay?”

“No, Mark! Just go away. I need to think.” Stinging tears painted a trail of mascara down my splotched cheeks.

“Come on, Jaimee...You know how much I love you, right?”

“Love me?” The gunk in my throat thickened with each word. “You know I’m a Christian. You know how important my virginity is to me. I’ve told you this a hundred times.”

“Yes, I know, but I just thought with it being our senior prom and all, that maybe…”

“…that maybe you’d take me to a motel and take advantage of me?”

“No, I wanted our night to be special. I thought you knew after being together for five whole months, how much I love you. I thought you loved me too.”

I slapped my hand on the door. “I do love you, but I'm confused," I whined as my forehead hit the wall in desperation. “I don’t want us to make a mistake, Mark—one that could change our lives forever.”

He softened his voice. “Well, I’d never hurt you. Think about that. Remember how patient I’ve been. I’ve never pressured you before, and I’ve had to use a lot of willpower, so…remember that. Jus—just take your time, okay?”

Time was irrelevant in that moment. My senior prom was supposed to be like a fairy tale—a night to smile over in my diary. Instead of the memory of a Cinderella goodbye kiss at my front door, I was there, crouched on the floor of a dirty, cheap motel room. How did I get here, God? Did I make him think I wanted this? Please, help me be strong. I want to keep my commitment to stay pure until marriage, Lord. I caught a scent of the beautiful pink and white corsage which had completely captivated me earlier. I knew Mark had spent hours getting it perfectly matched to the color of my dress, because he told me so.

My heart began to warm up with memories of all the considerate things he had done for me and the patience he had demonstrated regarding my faith. “Mark, you still there?”

His voice was leaning close to mine on the other side of the bathroom door. “Yeah. Told you I would be, didn’t I?”

He sounded like a wounded puppy. Maybe he does love me. Maybe I should…

“I paid almost thirty bucks for this room, did’ya know that," he exploded, awakening all my good senses.

My resolve thickened, and God’s confidence spoke through me. “I don’t care about your thirty bucks. My virginity doesn’t have a price tag. When I unlock this door, I want you to take me home. You got that?”

His voice squeaked, “Yeah.”

“I mean it, Mark. If you love me the way you say you do, then you’ll drive me home.”

“Whatever. I’ll take you home, but you’re paying me back for the room.”

I unlocked the door, aimed my eyes straight to the hotel door and walked bravely to the car without looking back. Mark drove me home, and we never spoke to one another again. (I did, however, leave thirty dollars in his locker on the last day of school—in pennies.)


"You sure you're alright, Punkin?" The voice of my true love brought me back to my present reality.

"Yes, um, alllllmost ready..." No, I'm definitely ready. It finally made sense--what used to be a traumatic memory had now become a triumphant one. God blessed the decision from my senior prom night by replacing it with a brand new beautiful memory to be made this night—my wedding night.

I flash a wink and a smile in the mirror, admiring the glow of purity that beams from my face. As I come out of the bathroom into our honeymoon suite, I find my husband—wait, let me say it in my sensuous voice—my darling husband—extending his hand to me. “Care to dance, Mrs. Morris?”

A blushing bride, I waltz into his arms of love, closing the door of that old memory behind me.

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“I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all Your works and consider what Your hands have done.”
Psalm 143:5, NIV


In the Key of HE,