Month: July 2017

If summer days have you feeling beaten down and defeated…a powerful solution

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A little smile from above.

The sun seemed to smile at my weary soul on that morning last week, as it crept around a nearby office building.  With only the sounds of a bird’s first-of-the-morning song and my sneakers striking the pavement, the sunrise brought me a dose of peace and courage for the day.

 

That niggling feeling that I should be soaking up every beautiful moment of summer freedom, right there with the drum of constant arguments and complaints of boredom on my aching ears…it all had me needing a little encouragement.

So the beauty of that morning’s sunrise sat far deeper than shades of pink and orange, with the promise of a fresh start, extending a gentle invitation to new possibility, new hope, new mercy.  A smile to say “Today is a new day”… “You are going to be ok”… “You can do this.”  A soft and simple smile.

And isn’t this the longing of every heart – to be smiled upon?

The beginning of the ministry of Jesus, God in flesh, was with a smile from above.  Father God looked down at him and said “This is my son, whom I love.  With him I am well pleased.” (Matthew 3: 17)

How much more do we need to hear God say “You are mine, and I take great delight in you”?

There are so many other voices that would tell us we’re not enough, to work harder, that other moms – other humans – are doing it better, and we’ll surely never get it right.  In the noise of my mind I sometimes try to scare or guilt myself into being a better mom, a better wife, a better friend…but we all know that doesn’t work.  We end up being critical of others the same way we’re being critical of ourselves.

When we’re not receiving grace, we end up with none to offer.  

This day that started with the peeking sun smile, I was reminded that I could do all of this a different way.  I can start my day with simply being smiled upon…just getting quiet long enough to let God’s delight rest on me, without an ounce of striving.

And it makes me feel brave.   Like, this kind of brave…

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…where you know you’re loved and can run free and take on whatever the day would bring.

I forget all the time, but I’m trying to just take a breath at the start of each day and in the midst of every discouraged moment to let my heart receive God’s smile.

To be delighted in makes us sure-footed and unafraid.  We walk with more confident steps when we’re resting under the loving gaze of our Heavenly Father.

And, funny enough, the more I’m smiled upon, the more I smile upon my children.  The more I gain this courage of knowing Whose I am, the more I want to give a dose of courage to my kids – and everyone I meet, for that matter.

The Delighted In can’t help but love free.  The Smiled Upon can’t help but to smile upon others.  Those who live Claimed and Belonging can’t help but draw others in close.

Live loved today, mama.

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Grateful for my people, who make a morning at the zoo look like this. 

 

The Grace In Not Getting What You Want

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Not an act…grabbed a snapshot of my people wanting something they couldn’t have. 🙂
“But I WANT it!”  Eyes of disbelief, and a bit of a screech in the tone…this is the response from my charming little people – at least a handful of times a day – after I’ve delivered the crushing “No.”

You too, mama?

Mystifying as it is for our little ones, this necessary loss of innocence occurs as the reality sets in that the world and others actually do not bend to their whims.

Those of us who have circled the sun a few times know that sometimes the answer is “No.”  Sometimes we can’t have what we want.  Sometimes things don’t go our way.  Sometimes we have to wait.

But who likes it?

Every loving parent will gently teach that wanting does not necessitate receiving, even as our own mama hearts tremor with their secret unfulfilled longings and the “No’s” of life that ache down deep.

And how in the world do we teach them that the things we want aren’t always the things we need.  How do we teach ourselves?  How impossible when my own soul claws for the things that I just want – the night’s sleep, to be left alone in the bathroom, to just have a night out without someone spiking a fever on our way out the door. How often I hear from my own heart the same plea before a patient Father…”But I want it, Lord!”

But the magic of it is that the things I think I want, and can’t have, are the very things that are changing me from the inside out.

I think I just want a break, but what my heart needs is to know God’s daily mercies and to gather his grace like manna.  I think I want to just do it all right, but what I need is to know Christ’s power in my weakness.  I think I want to just be left alone for a moment of peace, but the constant interruptions are giving me new eyes to see every opportunity for silence with my King as pure gift.  God’s gentle voice speaks to me in my need…in the long breaths before responding to a child’s poor behavior, in the hugs offered when I wanted to roll my eyes, in the moments when my need to be forgiven gives me the humility to offer grace to my children.

So often, I find that the things I’m whining for are the things I need to lay down to find deep, rich, alive intimacy with God.

I’m realizing I may be a tad more refined, but not all that different from my children…and it makes my heart swell with compassion for them.

We can come alongside of our children as they slosh their way through tantrums and time outs, in the same way that Christ comes alongside of us in ours.  We can believe that the things they want and can’t have are shaping them.  And we can believe the same for ourselves.  

This…THIS is what I want for every mother

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blog -for every mother

The vibrant green of leaves peaking in my kitchen window, ears ringing with little voices, stomach in knots over the tussles of the morning, and slumped a bit from the week’s travel that could be described as anything but vacation (more on this soon…), I struggle to put hands to keyboard.

Right here in the messy middle of it all – just like you – my morning was full of time outs and Cheerios on the floor and rushing off to swim practice.  I changed diapers and I said the wrong thing and I folded laundry and poured bowls of cereal and rushed a song of blessing and let out a few big sighs that may have given my precious ones the impression that I am exasperated by them.  I issued a few extra kisses to try to make up for my bad attitude and hustled to assist a little one in the bathroom.  I buckled seat belts and said “I don’t know” to most the questions and shot up desperate prayers for more grace, more strength.

This is how I sit to write — nearly always convalescing from some parenting failure, usually from the last ten minutes.  My mind often burdened with a child’s need for which I have no answers.  Feeling weak beyond measure.

And yet something aches in me that I can’t bear to not tell you.  A deep beautiful grace has rained down on me, and I want it for every mama.  

Before I had children, I was cozied in my assumptions about parenthood — a sweet overflow of a loving marriage, an opportunity to leave a legacy, enrich our lives, invite joy.  Sprinkled with truth, but troubling simplistic, I thought I would just do my best, make sure they know I love them, set good boundaries, have fun, and we’d all turn out fine.  I’ve always known children are a miracle, a privilege, a gift.  I always assumed we would experience ups and downs.

But there’s a weightiness that I never imagined and a freedom that has led me to the heights.

Jesus offers this sacred invitation…”whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 10: 39)

I never knew that motherhood was an invitation to die…  I’ve wondered at stories of reckless faith and obedience to serve where God calls, but I never knew that I could find this most holy ground right here in my home — that I could be resurrected into a new kind of living, just on the other side of dying to myself. I never knew that in motherhood I would be invited to die a million times a day, and find the freedom of a life hidden with Christ.  I never knew that I would be invited to give away my comfort, my dignity, my autonomy, my privacy, my self-preference, my efficiency, my sense of control, and that I would exchange it all for intimacy with my King, the only source of true life.

There is always a place for personal boundaries and self-care.  Take care of yourself, sister.

But joy comes in making peace with this journey of motherhood being one of sacrifice.   I’m discovering the greatest invitation in motherhood is one to lose my life to find it.

And so, as we meet needs in the wee hours of the night, give our day away as a chauffeur, or as tiny people toss their trash at us, we can find the strength to calmly parent – a privilege and a sacred mission – in the place where we let go.  We let go of our rights, our pride, our life, and our hearts are set free.

What I want for every mama is for her to experience this sacred dance before her Father in Heaven.  I long for the beautiful invisible works of her hands to feel like worship.  I ache for you to go ahead and lay it all down so that you can experience the riches of God’s grace for you.

 

“My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise” 

Psalm 51:17

“But the king replied to Araunah, ‘No, I insist on paying you for it. I will not sacrifice to the Lord my God burnt offerings that cost me nothing”” 

2 Samuel 24:24