Tag: freedom

How to hope when your child’s life is out of your control

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I’ve been quiet on here lately.  The reasons may be obvious, that life is real and messy and spilling over at the brim.  But these real messy days that have a way of shutting everything else down for a bit?  These are the spaces where I’m learning what it means to have faith, what it means to claim joy, what it means to lay my life down in love, and what it means to hold onto hope. These things get real when you need them most.  I don’t want to miss the opportunity to walk with you right here in the messy middle.

In this new year, I’m reflecting again on the big and beautiful invitations of motherhood.  There are these exquisite invitations to walk in joy when it makes no sense, to claim peace when anxiety is far more logical, to be carried by trust, when our hands want to hold on with the tightest grip.  

In the early days, I was the mom with Excel spreadsheets to keep track of nap and feeding schedules.  I was convinced that if I did it right, motherhood didn’t have to be so overwhelming, or quite so life-altering, and that dedicated effort could make it work better than the stories I heard.  We would make a home of peace and calm.  Sure, there are lots of things parents can do to cultivate that kind of home, but control it we cannot.  And convincing ourselves that we can control it can lead us right into a sticky, muddy pit of frustration.

I think it’s normal, even wise and industrious, to enter this parenting thing with a shelf full of books, a mind full of strategies, and a heart full of hope.

But before long, the reality crushed me, and I started scrambling for a sturdier foundation.  Maybe you, too.

The reality of children who make their own choices and have their own bad days and go against the grain. The reality of waking up to a brand new child who no longer sleeps or eats or obeys. We had just figured out a discipline strategy that worked, and then it didn’t.  We thought we found the sport that we would play as a family, and then she decided she hated it. We bought new clothes with approval, but putting them on was a constant battle. I had a fun day planned, but he decided to be oppositional.  Someone got stung by a bee.  Someone had an accident.  Someone spiked a fever.  Unexpected trip to the ER.  Up all night for some unknown reason.  Sudden and unexplainable temper tantrums.

The life of a mama is not her own, and the lives of our children aren’t ours either. We can drive ourselves crazy wondering when the joy and peace are going to just start flowing.

The only thing that’s predictable is that every day holds unpredictability.

Little by little, in those early years of motherhood, I was glimpsing the reality of my children’s independent identities and dispositions that I didn’t understand and that my parenting books failed to mention. I was facing the strength and character that manifests in unfiltered form as defiance or disrespect.  And I was navigating the frustrating mystery of trying to meet needs that cannot be communicated by tiny preverbal people.

I was seeing the unpredictability of it all, and the reality of my own limitations, the consequences of prolonged sleep deprivation, the impossibility of being everywhere for everyone at once.

I was finding out about the limits of my patience, that seemed to be fixed to hit empty at about 5pm every day.

And I was facing the reality of a distance between my child’s heart and my own, and the disconnect between what their daddy and I are saying and what our little loves are hearing.

And more than anything, I was facing the reality of my intense attachment to thinking I could control the outcomes.

I try to be intentional about connecting with their hearts. . . but they sometimes do not feel loved.

I try to be attentive to their safety. . .but we’ve had numerous trips to the ER.

I try to listen well. . .but they sometimes do not feel heard.

I believe in and teach them about the power of their friendships with one another, but they hit each other and hurt each other’s hearts.

At some point, I had that gut-wrenching realization that makes the older mamas grab their chests and say “I know.”

I can’t protect them.

I can’t defend them.

I can’t make them believe. 

I can’t meet all of their needs.

I am going to hurt their hearts, and the world will too.

The world isn’t going to go easy on them just because I want it so badly.

They will face danger, get scars, maybe even know the names and faces of the staff at the closest ER. (This may already be the case for a few of them!)

I can’t make them receive my love the way I meant to send it.

I can’t do this perfectly. . .or sometimes even well.

But you and I?  We have to keep getting up and being Mom, and God’s word says there is joy and abundance for us to claim, so I figure there has got to be more to the story than all of those can’ts. 

The more tightly I grip to what I had wanted it to look like, the more it all seems to slip away.  The more I hover to try to keep my children safe, the more anxious and susceptible to injury everyone is.  The more I try to control, the more they are inclined to rebel.  The more I push the sport or the interest I want them to have, the more they resist.  And it’s like that moment when you squeeze silky soft white sand in the palm of your hand and suddenly realize your hand is empty.  You didn’t realize you were holding it too tightly, but it just suddenly slipped away.

Around the time when my insides twisted in knots over what I didn’t realize I had signed up for in motherhood — that it is an endless road of being split wide open, and an endless road of surrender and lack of control, and an endless road of desperate prayers — I heard the Lord whisper a question to my heart:  Do you trust me?

I wrestled over and over it but when I finally nodded a feeble “yes,” I began to hear the sweetest invitation from the Lord.  I began to hear him inviting me to be held with all my vulnerabilities.  I heard him inviting me to cry out all my fears and just let Him be my everything. I didn’t need to shake off the fear of something happening to my children, I could climb into His lap and tell Him about it like a bad dream, let Him hold me and tell me He’s never going to leave or change or stop loving us.  I don’t have to beg Him. I can let Him hold me and tell me how much he delights in these children of mine, and in my mama bear heart.

I can choose to look into the eyes of Eternal Understanding with a feeble childlike yes. 

Of course we hope and pray that everything will be ok for our kids. . . it would be weird if we didn’t.  But our hope can’t live there.  We can’t be sure of the choices our children will make in their lives, but we can be sure that there will always be a gentle whisper of God pursuing their hearts.  We can’t be sure that their life will be free of pain, but we can be sure that God always sees, always knows, and is always working for their good.  We can’t be sure of the circumstances they will face or avoid, but we can be sure that our Father God is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

These days, I’m grateful that I’m not in control of my children. This wild ride of life is far better engineered by the One who engineered our wild hearts. Being a mama set free is all about serving as a big ole’ road sign pointing straight at the heart of God.  If we show our children how to fix their eyes there, than we have nothing to fear.

 

John 14: 26-27 But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

2 Corinthians 12: 9-10 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Psalm 139: 7-12 Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

Romans 8: 28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Hebrews 13: 8 Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.

How to absolutely delight in your children

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That squishy kind of love.

I want to be one of those mamas who can’t stop giggling at her children.

I want to be the mom who loves to watch them, loves to dance with them, loves to sing along to their made-up songs, and hides around the corner of the room to watch them jabber to themselves, or to catch a glimpse of a sweet sibling moment.

I want to be the mom who runs to greet my sweet ones in the morning, and throws my arms around them.  I want to soak up the late night chats and smile often.  I want to live interruptible to their requests and questions and needs for band-aids.  I want to watch their goofy antics with the attitude of “Show me again!” and not “Hurry up.”   I want to hang their pictures on my bathroom mirror, and wear the macaroni necklace they made me.

I want to be the mom who tells them daily what makes them unique, and reminds them often about the beautiful purposes they were made for.  I want to be the mom who lingers in evening prayers because I just like the sound of their names lifted to heaven.  I want my love to pour out uninhibited, even in the ugliest moments.  I want truth and shepherding, discipline and accountability to flow gently and lovingly from a place of  unwavering love and affection.

Guys, I want to be the mom who loves summer.   I really do.  I want to be the mama who can’t get enough of my children.  I want it because I believe it will make them world changers.  I want it because I believe this love will be a launching pad for them, and I want to usher them into the boundless love of God.

I want to love a little more like a spunky little daughter of mine, with bouncy curls, boundless affection, and radiant joy.

Residing in the tiny chest of my three-year-old daughter is this heart that is reckless and free, unbound and bursting with all things beautiful.  Perhaps you have a child like this one, who loves with a shameless love that spills all over the place, without concern for the mess.  She is fearless and uninhibited.  Daring and brave.  Her heart is always spilling and never pulling back because it can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be loved back.

It’s the kind of love with which our deepest hollow places ache to be filled, but that starts to leak the first time we get hurt, rejected or ridiculed.

This little daughter of mine begins her days with hopeful anticipation of which friends she might see, and how many new ones she might make.  She has a curious habit of walking up to strangers and saying “Hi.  I like your face.”  She regularly invites people of all ages to have a “chat” with her.  And she often grabs my face and tells me that she thinks I’m cute, and she never ever wants to let go.

I learn more about the wildly unrestrained love of God from this child, than I could from a library of books on the subject.  It’s just not the kind of love our tattered and worn hearts dare to imagine.

Those of us with a few more years behind us tend to look on little children with fearless love, and think it sweet, but we generally assume they will grow out of it.  As they begin to see that the world isn’t so warm and fuzzy, they will tighten up the reins on their affections.

But I have to wonder if this is one of those things we “gain” through the years of our lives, which isn’t really wisdom or maturity, so much as damage to hearts that were meant to love without fear.  

Maybe these little ones have a purer understanding of the love of God that we’re meant to know, because their image of it has not yet been tainted.  And maybe true wisdom is to heed the words of Jesus to be a little more like them…in their humility, in their openness, in their receiving and relying on Love.

1 John 4: 16-18 “And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” 

Matthew 11: 25 At that time Jesus said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children.

There is NO fear in love.

Reckless love flows from deep within a heart well-loved.  A young child who has never had reason to doubt that they are loved, has no reason to hold their love back from others.  When they have felt cared for and delighted in, relationships hold possibility, hope, and excitement.  This, of course, is not true for a child who has not received love and care, and often ceases to be true when relationships get messy, and hurt and fear and insecurity enter in.

So how do we convince our shattered hearts to stop being afraid?  How do we love freely and fearlessly once again, or for the first time?  How do we become the mamas who can’t stop our ferocious love and pure delight from pouring out on our children?

Be the loved child.

Be the loved child.

Be the Delighted-in, Believed-in, Beloved one who can’t imagine not being loved back, because she is simply drowning in the ferocious love of her Heavenly Father.

Friend, this is our identity and our destiny.

You ARE the loved child of God who can love without fear!

I have had seasons of feeling so frustrated and short-fused with my children, not wanting to be merciful with their bad attitudes and misbehavior.  I have had seasons of feeling disconnected from their hearts, and resenting them for being unhelpful or disrespectful or needy.  I have had these days when I look at my heart and see coldness and pride, and wonder what happened to my mother’s heart of pure adoration for my children.  I cycled in and out of days like this, blaming it on sleep deprivation or just a bad day…until I had this troubling and beautiful realization…

If a child loved well by parents loves readily, than a loved “Child” of God (at any age) ought to love all the more freely.  If I know God’s love and delight, than love and delight ought to be pouring out of me, especially onto my own children.

And I am finding this to be true.  When I spend time letting God tell me what he thinks of me, the coldness falls off of my heart.  When I let God tell me that he is pleased, my critical spirit melts away.  When I let myself look into God’s delighting eyes, I catch a glimpse of his pure eyes for those around me.  When I live like the loved child of God that I am, love comes easy.

Be the loved child and you won’t be able to stop the love from springing out of your overflowing heart.  

Whatever parenting challenge you are facing today, start here:  God loves you, sister, and takes great delight in you.  In Christ, God’s love and affection, mercy and grace, are yours.  His smiling eyes are on you, longing to pour out his compassion, longing to hold you and bind up your broken heart.  He longs to carry your burdens, and renew your strength.  He longs to tell you how he knit you together, and calls you his masterpiece, how he knows every hair on your head, and catches your every tear in a bottle.

If we know we are fully loved, we can love like our hearts have never been bruised.  The “Delighted In” cannot help but love with grace, with truth, with reckless abandon.

So, if you’re wondering today how to love your family like you’ve never dreamed possible, first, be loved beyond your wildest imagination by a Father God who calls you “My delight is in her.” (Isaiah 62: 4)

 

Psalm 149: 4 For the LORD takes pleasure in His people; He will beautify the afflicted ones with salvation.

Zephaniah 3: 17 The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.”

Jeremiah 31: 3 The Lord appeared to us in the past, saying: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.

Why your children really need you to be imperfect

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Ephesians 2: 8-9 For by grace you have been saved, through faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

This day after Easter has me so deeply grateful for a Savior who reached out to save us, right smack in the middle of our mess… a Christ who went to the cross saying “Forgive them.”

I’m awestruck with the goodness and mercy of Jesus, who knew how we would think we know better.  He knew we would try to take matters into our own hands.  He knew our weakness, and He loved us first.  Jesus took on all of our brokenness and self-reliance and outright rebellion, just because he wanted to be with us forever.  Hallelujah!

But this day after Easter also has me thinking it tragic how many of us moms in Christ seem to leave all of this freedom at the door of our homes.

Maybe we walk in freedom at church, at work, in friendships, in ministry, but with our children, we writhe in guilt and carry all the weight of our own brokenness solidly on our own shoulders.

Can you relate?

The pressure to be a “good mom” is enough to squeeze all of the freedom right out of parenting.

Continue reading “Why your children really need you to be imperfect” →

The bad habit I want broken for me and every mom

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For I am confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will continue to perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.  
Philippians 1: 6

In my early years as a mom, just as truly as my lips seemed to be magnetically drawn to the pudgy cheeks of my little ones…  Just as truly as my heart could have burst with zeal to capture all the best that life could offer them…  Right alongside the beautiful stuff of motherhood, the honest ugly truth is that there were several long years when nearly every time my children wore a tie-dye shirt with flower pants, or chewed with their mouths wide open, or tripped someone with the mini shopping cart at the grocery store, or just seemed to take up too much space in a room, I squirmed almost out of my skin.

With disapproval.

With insecurity.

With fear.

Not because I actually thought they should be better.  Not because I wanted them to be perfect for me.  But because I wanted them to avoid every pain I had faced, every joke that had been cracked at my expense, that left a crack right down the middle of my selfhood, every pointy edge of the world’s cruelty that might make them want to shrink back.

I wanted to rescue my children from all of life’s hurts and rejections and exclusions.  

Fear concluded that the rest of world would be hard on them.  So, in my limited, fleshy mind of worry, I unknowingly resigned to do everything in my power to present them perfectly inside-the-box and charming in every way.  Truly, whatever people-pleasing insecurity was tucked inside of my 8 or 10 or 12 year old heart came leaking out of my 30-something skin, and made a bit of a stink in my home.

I had developed this bad habit of trying to fix my children up into perfect little people.  It held a thin hope of protecting them from getting bruised, and a shoddy sense of control to comfort my uncertain heart.  

Several years ago, I woke to a hurt relationship with my eldest daughter, and a rugged hunger for a new way.  As I timidly let the light shine in the deep, dark quarters of my heart where this critical spirit was born, I realized that the backdrop to my constant corrections and tightening grip around my enterprising, torch-bearing, wildly free-spirited girl was a steady stream of criticism of myself, as her mom.

As my own spirit was being crushed beneath the barrage of judgment, the same judgment seemed to be all that could spill out of my mouth.  

Unpleasantly clear to me now is that, as I fought to save my daughter from the harshness of the world, my own harshness was crushing her in advance.  Not with terrible words, but with constant critiques.  Not with outright denunciation, but with a subtle spirit of Not Quite Good Enough.  The same spirit with which I was judging myself.

Since that moment, God has been ushering me into the new identity that has been mine to wear all along — the identity of chosen, redeemed, adopted daughter of the King of Heaven.  One purchased by the blood of Christ, pure and righteous in the eyes of God.  A daughter upon whom God looks and says “You are mine and I take great delight in you.”  A woman leaning and living into a perfect holiness that has already been given me as a gift, in Christ.  Born into freedom.  With an inheritance in joy.

As I lifted my gaze, I found the eyes of God looking on me with tender delight, gentle affection.  

Friends, even sweeter are the curves of your face to the perfectly clear eyes of the God of Heaven, than the face of your own sleeping babe to your eyes.  

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Me, a beloved child.  This is who I am to Our God.  This is who you are.  And here is the place from which we can be changed and sanctified into the people God already knows we were made to be.

And here, from this loved place, we have a a true and steady love to give.  

As I journey into the truth of my identity as God’s beloved, I fight to believe the same truth for my children.  Parental love often comes in the form of consistent and firm boundaries, as a path to real freedom and abundance.

But in all our boundary-setting, correction and discipline, we can start from a place of victory and hope, rather than a place of fear and defeat.

The thing is, if we try to fix our children up with criticism, they might just take on an identity of rejection from the start.

At any age, unconditional love and acceptance, as we bump and crash into lovingly set boundaries, is what allows us walk out our potential.

I want my children to know what I’m learning the hard way, that we learn who we are, not be looking around but by looking up into the heart of our Maker.  

So that means we can start every correction with radical acceptance and bold fearlessness.

I’m through with trying to fix my children up into the perfect little people, and I’m trying to remember and share Christ’s invitation to simply be covered by Him.  Because of the promises extended to us in Jesus’ death and resurrection, we can find rest for our souls right in the messy middle of our sanctification journey.  And, in turn, we can lead and teach and train our children with peace, with grace, with hope.

As we get our fear and discomfort with our kids’ mess out of the way and trust God with their hearts, and our own, we become more trustworthy parents.

Sisters, as for me and my house, we’ve determined this habit of trying to fix our children has got to go.

God works on our hearts with full confidence in the end product.  He knows who we are becoming, and his patience is enduring.  His grace empowers and encourages me towards a life of abundance – it lifts me to my feet when I fall.

May we all believe with confidence in the beauty and potential and God-given purpose tucked inside each of our precious babes, and may this hope and grace be a solid ground on which to stand, as we shepherd their hearts.

The beautiful thing about an upside down life

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upside down

Do you have those moments in motherhood when you feel equally and simultaneously blessed beyond measure and like you’re going to crawl out of your skin?

Yeah, me too.

The endless needs to meet, the dishes and laundry, the noise and the arguments, the chauffeuring and the schedules, the changes and transitions and disruptions and sleepless nights…it’s just a lot.

Beautiful, messy, amazing, demanding, miraculous, exhausting life.

There is a heavy side to this parenting job, shepherding and guiding through life’s pains, and feeling the weight of directing our child(ren)’s future.  But much of the stuff of my day isn’t really difficult.  Many of the tasks of motherhood are simple and straightforward.  So in the daily grind, I sometimes find myself wondering why I’m struggling.  I think I could change diapers and correct children and fold clothes and answer questions and do dishes at your house with a smile on my face and a skip in my step.

Sometimes, the hard part is not necessarily what I have to do, but the state of my heart.

As I pay closer attention to what goes on in my heart and mind when a child’s need arises, or 47 of them at the same time, it’s not actually the work that’s hard.

When it’s one more diaper or one more water cup to fill when I just sat down, I think the more difficult part is the battle that rages inside for my rights and my dignity.  Something bubbles up in me that says “Dang it, I deserve to sit down and eat a meal!”  There’s something ugly that thunders with thoughts that say “I woke up at 5:30am so I could get time BY MYSELF.  You’re not invited!”  Or the feeling that it must be an attack on my basic human rights to have someone bust through the door every time I try to use the bathroom.

Though these thoughts may not make it out of my mouth, they eat away at my insides and make this motherhood thing so much heavier, harder, a constant battle.

But that way of thinking has everything to do with identity and greatness as the world sees it.  It’s about who you know and what you do and who you impress and how much money you make and how much you produced and how satisfied it made you feel.  It’s about demanding respect and fighting for your rights.

But friends, there’s something beautiful in motherhood, and so many times in life, that we could miss in the million ways we are stretched and pressed and bruised by meeting everyone else’s needs.

There’s a gift inside of the work, a mystery tucked inside of the demands, an invitation beneath the invisibility.

God invites us to flip it all all upside down…

To celebrate the times when our needs can’t be met, because it draws us close to God’s heart of abundant and fresh daily mercy.*

To boast in our weakness because it pulls us into the strength of Christ.*

To be poured out, giving our life all away, because it’s the secret to finding the life we’re grasping for.*

We could be burdened by our work being invisible to the rest of the world.  Or we could let the work of our hands be a song of worship before the delighting eyes of our King.*

We could scramble and claw to be left alone, or we could offer our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God…and discover the secrets of Christ, who came and served and endured unto JOY.*

We could spend our energy fighting for our rights to sleep and peeing alone, or we could find our life as we go ahead and give it away.  We can offer generosity of spirit and time and energy and words, trusting that it will all be given back to us.*

I itch for my children to know what I’m learning the hard way, about how real life, real joy, real greatness is found when we give it all away.

And isn’t this what we want our children to know?  How to put another person’s needs before their own?  How to have genuine compassion and a drive to serve and protect those weaker than themselves?

How in the world do we teach this upside-down, inside-out concept of serving one another, of washing the feet of another, of taking the lowliest position for the sake of Christ, with the promise that the last will be first in the Kingdom of God?

I think this is one of those lessons that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense until we see it live and breathe.

Their daddy and I can prattle on about how they should just hurry up and stop fighting for the biggest brownie and to be first into the car.  We can tell them how Jesus says the “last will be first” only to watch their squabbles shift to shoving each other into the car so they can be last.

In a world full of “likes” and “follows” and always looking beautifully put-together, how do we set aside the drive to always be best and liked and recognized and elevated and admired?

These things we can spend so much time chasing always turn up empty.  When I try to stand on them, the shifty sandy ground beneath my feet washes away with the waves.  In this realm, when people stop admiring, and someone else is better, and seasons change and no one sees me, I’m left with nothing.

The world doesn’t have much solid ground to offer us, or our children, not in money or fame or success or titles.

And I want the kind of riches for my family that last into eternity.

So, in a world that’s all about getting ahead, I want to be mama who teaches her children about getting low.

The beautiful thing about living upside down is that we have nothing to fear.  No one and no thing can take away the brimming life that results from dying to ourselves.

We have freedom.  The pressure is off to meet other’s expectations and keep up with the mom next door when we are living for God’s eyes alone.

If the way to be great is to be the least, than, mamas, cleaning poop off the walls or being told off by a toddler or spending three hours a day driving your people places are right there in the sweet spot of God’s heart for us.

The gift is that we only need eyes of One to experience the greatness we all long for.

The beautiful thing is that joyful and abundant life doesn’t require a title or applause or a corner office or ten thousand Instagram followers.  It’s accessible to us from our kitchen sinks, from our child’s bedside, from the driver’s seat of our cars.

We can take the Hand of Love to be led forth in grace, when we let our lives be hidden in Christ.  And as our families see us serve in joy, they have a window to see where true life is found…in giving it away.

 

*Bible references:
Lamentations 3: 22-23 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Then Jesus said to His disciples, “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.” – Matthew 16: 24-25
Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. 2 Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. – Romans 12: 1-2
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off every encumbrance and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with endurance the race set out for us.  Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  -Hebrews 12: 1-2
“Give, and it will be given to you: good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over will be put into your bosom. For with the same measure that you use, it will be measured back to you.” – Luke 6: 38
Jesus was rich, yet for our sake he became poor, so that through his poverty we would become rich. -2 Cor. 8:9
For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. – Colossians 3: 3

 

 

My kids saw me cry right there in the middle of the kitchen

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weakness and openness
Oh Lord, would you put fresh mercy in this hand today…

I felt the stick of dried milk on my elbow, and I had bite marks on my shoulder from my curious and teething toddler’s last embrace.

The words being thrown around my kitchen table bit down even deeper than those new little teeth.

My ears were stinging with it – not just with the noise, though it had gotten quite loud, but with the dissonance of sharp arguments and overly enthusiastic tattling and defiant disrespect.  My disgust with it all was apparent on my furrowed brow, and it only made my little ones agog to load me up to the brim and see what spilled out.

It was one of our last days of summer, right before starting back to school last week — I was eager to love it.  Anxious to soak it up.  Desperate for slow.  Staunchly committed to having fun together.

But my children have this innocently prodigious way of stripping me right down to the bare bones of myself, where I can only hope some grace and Jesus spills out of my weakness, instead of the repugnance I feel on my skin.

Perhaps you can relate, friend?

Someone was mad at me and wouldn’t tell me why.  Another one didn’t like any of the ideas, and didn’t want to go anywhere.  Another had packed the bags and lined the shoes and was waiting at the door for some grand adventure.  Oh, and everyone was hungry, of course, though breakfast had yet to be cleared.  And an overwhelmed and very upset child screamed at me one too many times about how I just don’t get it and I don’t even care, and finally all I could muster in response was a handful of tears.

These are the broken moments of which I am sometimes so very afraid.  It’s funny how I don’t want to show them my weakness – I hold it back like some secret Kryptonite, as if my children are the enemy, and to reveal it would surely be the death of me.

But there’s this beauty in the broken place.  I didn’t mean to go there, and I won’t hurry back, but when we break, there’s a beautiful thing that can happen…

 

When we break through to the raw place, instead of covering it up with anger or bitterness, we see the true longings of our heart.  When we break, there is a thing ready to be healed.  When we break, walls come down and we bust open to mercy.  When we break, we become soft.  And though a soft heart is more easily wounded, it is also more ready to love and receive love, forgive and receive forgiveness, delight and be delighted in.

 

And knowing our need allows us the receive the healing touch of Christ, who said ”It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick…”

 

This broken moment last week gave my children the opportunity to see that their words affect me and were fracturing our relationship — it invited them to look around and see who else was affected.  They wanted to stop and reevaluate how the words they were using with their most important people.  We had a chance to recognize that we need help to love one another better, and it left them looking for the Source of Love.

 

I stooped low.  We huddled up.  We prayed for a fresh start.  We gave and received grace.  God met us.  And it was sweet.

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34: 18). None of us want heartbreak, disappointment, overwhelm.  None of us go looking for something to crush our spirit.  And yet, time and again these are the places where God meets me.

 

This crushing moment led us to the throne of grace.  

 

I’m not saying that you should cry in front of your children, as a method of showing them their need for Jesus.  No.  We have a responsibility to remain steady and consistent, and mostly predictable, to provide peace and stability for our children.

And yet, in our weakness, Christ is strong.  So let’s also not be afraid of being in over our heads.  Let’s not be afraid to admit to the Lord and to each other, mamas, when our day has nearly flattened us.

 

Let’s lean our pain, our struggle, our weariness into the chest of God, that He might wrap us in a healing embrace.  And when we fail… let’s trust God with the hearts of our children, too.  I was afraid that my accidental tears may have burdened them, but as we gave God our broken morning, He exchanged it for joy.

We don’t have to feign strength when we know the Source.  We are free to draw close and honest to the heart of God, with our children… to pray gently for them when they are struggling to use kind words, to shepherd them when they have failed to disobey, to apologize to them when we’ve been wrong, and we can usher in to watch God’s healing work.

When our heart fails within us, may we gather up the presence of God as our portion, our strength. (Psalm 73: 26)

When we are weary, may we climb into the lap of our Father God, trusting that he can give strength to our hearts, and renewal to our bodies. (Isaiah 40: 29, Matthew 11: 28)

When we are hopeless, and fear that nothing we are doing will amount to anything, may we place our hope in the Lord.  May we soar on wings like eagles, tireless and full of life. (Isaiah 40: 31)

When we long to just be better, stronger, more whole…may we hear God say to our hearts “My grace is sufficient.”  May we boast in our weakness, that Christ’s power may be great in us. (2 Corinthians 12: 9)

Sometimes I put too much weight on keeping it “together” with my kids.  Steadiness, consistency is a big deal in parenting.  I’m a believer in it, and I fight for it daily.  But it’s not THE thing.   I’m tempted to become robotic when I’m trying to muster up patience, and avoid yelling.

But today, I’m proclaiming out loud that the thing I want most is to be on my knees before Christ himself.  I’d rather be soft than cold.  I’d rather be accessible then impenetrable.  I’d rather exhibit heartbreak than calculated control.

Openness requires faith because it leaves us vulnerable.  It requires faith that God’s grace is enough when we let our hearts be hurt.

But openness can lead us to genuine need and true dependence on the Lord.  It can leads us to authentic heart connection with our God and with our children.  We have an opportunity to draw close.  We have an opportunity to pray.  And our children have an opportunity to feel our veracious and loving investment in their hearts and our relationship with them.

Today, I’m choosing to be unafraid of my weakness.  Today, I’m choosing to trust that God’s mercy can cover my failure, my disappointment, my inadequacy.

 

I’m choosing to believe that I can let my walls of fear and self-protection come down, and take up the shield of faith, as the only defense I need. (Ephesians 6: 16)

 

Psalm 73: 26  My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.  

Habbakuk 3: 19  The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights. 

2 Corinthians 12: 10  That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.  

 

This…THIS is what I want for every mother

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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

When you need to break free from worry

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You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast,

because they trust in you.  

Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord,

the Lord himself, is the Rock eternal.  

Isaiah 26: 3-4

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Perfect peace.

The sun glitters in the slanted blinds, and a word glints in the depths of me – this maddeningly elusive and perfectly impossible word…

Peace.

In a world of rush hour traffic, ever-increasing internet speed, and stress as a badge of honor, peace feels impractical, even self-indulgent.

The more I allow my thoughts to swirl over my children –  about the risk of injury, the fragility of life, the pressures to keep up in school, the endless online world, the hazards of just walking this earth brushing up against other humans who hurt each other… the more I think, the heavier my burden, the tighter my grip around the children I’m desperate to protect.

Dangers are real, and we suffer in this life.  We know and hate to believe that our children will, too.

As much as I love to hear a comforting “They’ll be fine,” from a mama who has gone before me, I can’t help but scream inside “How do you know?!” and let my mind jump to friends whose children were not fine, or times that my worry seemed to be the reason I made the right decision about going to the ER.

Truly, the answer to endless worry over our children is never in logically determining that it will all be ok.

I envy the beautifully shameless relaxation of the perfect little face of my sleeping babe, and I wonder at what it must be like.  To fret not.  To rest when sleep calls.  To never fear for the events of the day.  To explore the world with eager expectation and hope.

But we’re told in God’s word that this kind of peace is available to us in Christ – not a life without responsibility or hardship, but a Life. Without. Worry.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4: 6-7

As we make choices of trust, of gratitude, of prayer, of supplication, God’s peace enters in and stands guard over our hearts and minds.

Our hope must rest on something more secure than our circumstances.  The irritatingly simple truth is that one thing keeps us in perfect peace…  One thing allows us to walk through this life free from a mind full of worry…  One thing allows us to remain steady, unflappable… Trust in the Lord, the Rock eternal.  

We all know this is easier said than done, but I am seeing my own mind of worry transformed in a million tiny choices to trust that God is who He says He is.  

Rather than feeling victim to life’s circumstances, weak and powerless, we can instead – by the power of Christ – walk in peace, strong and empowered to make choices for our families, free from worry and fear.  We can strongly choose to take reasonable precautions with our children – not out of fear, but LOVE.  We can powerfully choose to set boundaries on what they are allowed to do, where they are allowed to go, or when they need to see a doctor – not out of fear but LOVE.  We can strongly choose how to guide and shepherd them, using the powerful minds God gave us, but reject the worry that so easily partners with us.

We can choose to believe that the Lord is always good (Psalm 145: 9).  We can choose to believe that his grace is sufficient (2 Corinthians 12: 9).  We can choose to believe that he will never leave us or forsake us (Deuteronomy 31: 6).  We can choose to believe that God hems us in, behind and before (Psalm 139).  We can choose to believe his promises for our children, and for their mamas.

As you care for your littles ones today, sweet mama, may you go out in sparkling joy and be led forth in perfect peace.

 

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Hope for the inside of a mama’s head

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“Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your MIND.’”

Matthew 22: 37

Last night, with sweet friends filling our home, sounds of laughter and connection reverberating, I took notice of the little one who seemed to have no concern for how to interact, or with whom.  Driven by impulse, unabashed in her every move, she ran and spun, crumpling to tears, bursting with excitement, running off with confidence, coming close for reassurance, stopping to tackle her baby brother, running off to grab a friend by the cheeks, taking a quick lap around the house, just because.

Her shamelessness is puzzling and refreshing.  Her haphazardness amazing, beautiful, innocent…

But I’m struck that I sometimes allow my mind to run wild in this same way.  How unfitting.  Unlike the sweet innocent freedom of my baby girl, my chaotic and haphazard thoughts, if left unchecked, threaten my joy, steal my peace, distract and burden me…

I should have reminded the babysitter to keep the basement door closed.  I need to put on the cabinet locks.  I hope the big kids got to swim practice ok.  They all need more of me.  And more play dates, too.  And more alone time.  And probably more sleep.  How am I going to keep the boy from falling behind on reading this summer?   He’s worked so hard.  What if…?   And what am I going to do about that sweet little overlooked middle child who often disappears in her room with her hurt feelings?  What if…?  And how can I get my kids to stop fighting? And how should I cut down on our clutter?  The crafts are everywhere.  Are they learning to take responsibility for their things?   

Are we reading enough?  Are these tantrums normal?  Maybe they need healthier meals.  How do I keep my picky eaters from running our house?  I need to schedule a babysitter for next Friday.  Have I had too many babysitters lately?  Did I schedule check-ups for my summer birthday kids?  Babysitters for those, too.  Maybe we should cut out TV.  And artificial food dye.  But what about birthday parties?  I don’t want to be that mom.  Maybe I should get that wheezy little one allergy tested.  What if…?

My thoughts bounce from one worry to the next, often lacking direction, aimless and reactionary.  They mask their erraticism under the guise of getting things in order, problem solving, decision making.  But in truth, who of us by worrying can add a single hour to our lives? (Luke 12: 25).  

Often our words and actions take priority, and our thoughts are left to their own, seeming ungovernable, idiosyncratic, and presumed to be mostly harmless.

Every mama knows there is much to think about, plan for, change or organize, lead or coordinate, nurture or decide.  We use these minds God gave us for the benefit and blessing of our families…to be intentional, thoughtful and strategic.

But allowing our thoughts to pinball around, frantically condemning the past and resolving to some new future, worrying, fretting, and rolling over the “What if”s”— it is a joyless and peaceless existence.

Our worry is fruitless and distracting.  

Throughout the gospels, Jesus speaks to and answers the thoughts of a person, often instead of their words or actions.  He knows that our thoughts can govern us, drive us, control us, hold us captive.  He also knows that our minds can be renewed to align with his, that our thoughts can be steadfast on him, and lead us to all that he imagined for us as his children.  He knows that he can set us free, renew our hope, keep our peace.  And he longs to do so, through the renewing of our minds (Romans 12: 2).  Our thoughts can run rampant, but we are advised in God’s Word to never let them.

When we call to mind that God’s steadfast love endures forever, his mercies new each morning (Lamentations 3: 22-23), we have HOPE.

When we choose to believe we are whom God says we are – his children, in whom He delights – we have CONFIDENCE.

When we call to mind what God has done, we ENDURE.

When we set our minds on things of God, and not things of man, we live SUBMITTED to God’s sovereignty.

When we choose to believe God is who He says He is, that He will fight for us, we have VICTORY.  (Deuteronomy 20: 4, John 16: 33)

When we place our hope in God, He renews our STRENGTH.

When we cast our burdens on the Lord, we will NOT BE SHAKEN. (Psalm 55: 22)

When we come to Christ with our heavy burdens, we receive REST for our weary souls. (Matthew 11: 28-30)

When we reject fear, we receive God’s HELP and PRESENCE. (Isaiah 41: 13, Psalm 23: 4)

When we take our thoughts captive, and submit them to Christ… When we present our requests to him with thanksgiving, we have PEACE that guards our hearts. (Philippians 4: 4-7; 2 Corinthians 10: 5)

When we turn our thoughts to gratitude, we receive JOY.

These are all decisions we can make, actions we can take.  Our thoughts don’t just happen to us, mamas, we choose and direct them.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.

Philippians 4: 8

As our little ones grow out of toddlerhood, they need not simply lose the freedom with which they began.  As they mature, they can grow into the even more exquisite freedom intended for the children of God.  Mamas, let’s walk in the freedom Christ intended for us, and give our children a beautiful example of what true freedom looks like.

Today, sweet friends, let’s test our thoughts against the truth of God’s Word, grab hold of them and allow them to come under God’s promises.

And let’s drink of the boundless freedom, the steadfast joy, the unshakable peace, the enduring hope that God intends for us, his beloved children.

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When you feel like you’re in the desert…Why you might need to look for a burning bush

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Now Moses was tending the flock…There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.”  When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!” And Moses said, “Here I am.”  “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.”  Then he said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.” At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.  

The Lord said…”I am sending you…”  

But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go…?”  

And God said, “I will be with you…” 

Exodus 3: 1-12 (Paraphrase)

 

No matter how many words I spill about how we mamas don’t have to be the perfect heroes, because we have a perfect hero in Jesus…  No matter how I breathe in freedom that God chose me and delights in me and offers me his never-ending, ever-sufficient grace… I still rise in the morning and sit to this keyboard, feeling like I should offer strength, bring wisdom, do it better.  I wish I could tell you how to make it all easier.  I wish I could tell you that I figured it all out.

But truthfully, I grasp for my own encouragement as I sit with a heavy body, a burdened soul, a fickle heart, a cluttered mind.  Perhaps you feel the same as you grasp for a quick minute to read words that you hope can encourage you for your day.

I used to think being a mom was just about making good decisions, about doing it right, about meeting needs and saying “I love you” and guiding and disciplining with wisdom and patience and grace.  Yes!  To all of these things, yes….

But it felt so straightforward.

And then I stared back at these little eyes staring at me.  Eyes that didn’t look like mine and needed me to tell them who they are.  Eyes that longed, wondered, tested, and needed more than I could give.  I looked at a little body that was sick or hurt, and I couldn’t fix it.  I saw these eyes that stung when I was not patient.  I watched my unique children experience the same events, transitions, words completely differently — one laughs, and the other runs and hides.  One has days of tears and irritability after a change, and the other seems to have only relief.  I peered into little souls that were afraid of things that we could not control.  I have sent my heart out on legs into unknown places and watched them be scared, face hardship, get hurt, feel confused.  I faced eyes of tiny people who just wanted to know I was pleased, and I sometimes felt my face contorted into a scowl that I never wanted to have on my face.

At some point I was faced with the question that perhaps parenting was about something other than doing it all right?

In the midst of my soul searching God’s over the mystery of having children — a road of failure and uncertainty and giving beyond my limits and letting go beyond my comfort — I have become aware of a quiet invitation.  This invitation was set ablaze in me.  And in these wildly arduous and agonizingly beautiful days with little ones, I want no mom to miss this thing that now burns in my belly and drives me to keep spilling these words.

I hear a voice calling — in the middle of deserts of inadequacy and invisibility and uncertainty and mind-numbing repetitiveness – God’s voice is beckoning me to come closer…

When I feel weak, He says “Come, let my power be made perfect in your weakness.”  (2 Corinthians 12: 9)

When I feel invisible, He says “Come, let me tell you how I see you…” (Psalm 139)

When I feel tired, He says “Come, let me renew your strength…” (Isaiah 40: 31)

When I feel pressure, He says “Come, cast your burden on me, and I will lift your chin and lighten your step” (Matthew 11: 30)

When I feel ashamed of my failure and inadequacy, He says “Come, let me cleanse you in my grace, and you will give away what you receive.”  (1 John 1: 9(

When I feel worried and anxious, He says “Come, let me give you my peace that passes understanding.” (Philippians 4: 6-7)

When I feel worn by the dishes, laundry, diapers, arguments, words, He says “Come, whatever you do, do it all unto me.  The work of your hands is as a song of worship to my ears.”

The very things that make me feel like I have nothing to offer…these have been a door to find God’s heart for me in motherhood.  The very things that stretch us beyond our limits and make it feel just too dang hard…these seem to be a key to unlock the elusive joy and peace and freedom we all know we should have.  When I feel like I’m wandering the desert, the Lord says “Come.  Draw close.  Fear not.  I am calling you.  I will be with you.  Though you feel weak and unimpressive and never enough — I am sending you to be my ambassador to my people…these tiny, adorable, royal bearers of My image.  To these, you will be a vessel of MY love, a mouthpiece of MY truth, a fountain of MY grace.”

Take off your sandals, Mama.  You are on holy ground…

My friend, whether you have little ones or grown ones or simply dreams of a full home in the future, listen today for the voice that beckons you through the things that you might think are in your way.

 

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A sweet moment of invitation from the weekend… And the Lord says “Come.”