That went so fast, Lord

“That went so fast, Lord,” I exclaim as I go through papers and drawings and knick knacks of a 4th grader turned Freshman in high school. 

“In.a.blink.” 

I hated that saying when I was in the throes of toddler chaos and colicky newborns. Looking back, it is all a blur, all a mode of survival. But now, the truth of it is so devastating, so painful, when I discover how i had been so tempted to blink away the moments and get to the easier part. Too many blinks, and now it’s all being packed up in plastic bins to be gone through by daughter-in-laws and grand children. 

Ugh, my mama heart hurts. 

Packing up handwriting exercises and art projects, I realize how much of that little boy I have forgotten...and how too many moments slipped by without savoring, without being fully present. Life is short. 

And it’s all about the people. 

My people. 

My babies they will always be.

My Difference Makers

Life has been gearing up in super speed. Two teens in sports, one guy in Cub Scouts, and a little lady dancing and tumbling away. Not to mention school activities on top of that. And in between all the running around, we have these pockets of time where we must parent, where ugly comes out and we are facing the same battles of emotional management, bad choices vs. good choices, and anger issues...just like when they hit the terrible twos--only so much more significant in their older ages.

If I allow myself to sit here and try and find the bright side of last night's tug-o-war with brothers fighting, or last week's slew of missing assignments, or consequence-dishing for bad language, I would be sorely disappointed.

This part of parenting stinks. 

It's the part of parenting that not only has me wade in turbulent waters of conflict, but also chips away at my confidence that I am doing my best as a parent. It makes me stare at my child and say, "Where did you come from?" (In my head...I hated being told that as a kid, so I promised myself I would never say it out loud. LOL).

This morning, I was on Facebook and an old memory popped up in my newsfeed. It was a status I had in 2012 about my son (7 years old at the time) giving the rest of his birthday money to a  family who wanted to adopt a baby girl in Africa. And then it brought to mind all the times my kids have poured out generously to others, have shown compassion without being asked to, have given a glimpse of the difference makers they will become.

I suddenly found myself looking from a heart view of each of my children, and remembering the good that was beneath all the necessary growing pains of becoming an adult. And it's so much more important than any drama we have today.  The bright side is there, amidst the mess, and I am just now realizing it. No matter their mistakes or disobedience, I know their hearts are compassionate. From the same naughty lips that speak foul language, come the heart language of a boy who wants to help the less fortunate. From the same brotherly discord, comes a defender of his brother's honor in face of a bully.

While I have been yanking my hair trying to direct these children into adulthood, there's something that I would argue is even more important going on in their rearing.

We've been growing hearts. 

And while there is lots of practical--sometimes excruciating--parenting to do, there are future adults here who will at least remember, and hopefully live out, one of the most important values we could teach them amidst the chaos, one that otherwise gets pushed aside in this culture of success and status. No matter how much my children accomplish on paper or on the field, I hope they remember the words and actions in those pockets of time where we parented beyond the reprimands, but impress upon them the need for compassion.

And, occasionally, my kids are displaying their roots in love and compassion, and I can forget the mess for a moment, knowing that it is truly fleeting. We are only wading through it to get to the good stuff--adults who will indeed make a difference in this world.

A Mama Can Only Wonder

In my current work-in-progress, my characters have deep loss woven into their back stories, and they
must move forward regardless of the pain.

I think I just described every journey in the human experience. Hopefully, I can write the story in such a way that it's unique enough, yet familiar enough to find its way to shelves one day.

Lately, I've been good. After my enlightening walk through October (you can read it here), and a focus on my family this November, the first day of December promises a continued sprouting joy, and a promise of peace regardless of what's going on around me.

That's me. That's my condition.

But of course, I am not an island, and my heart's threads are strung up like Christmas lights upon the hearts of my children. Today, I can't shake knowing the loss in my children's life because of wrong words and painful rejection--at no fault of their own--and the curiosity is killing me to know how it's affecting them.
As an author, I dissect my characters' strife and hold it up to the light, looking for chances of redemption, but as a mama, I can't peek inside my children's souls and do the same. I can only pray for them. Sure, I can talk to them and rip off the bandaids of silence and try and doctor the wounds myself, but, as we all know, who wants someone digging up the garbage of their pain?

I just sit. And pray. And mourn the crap that they've found along this journey of human experience. Words hurt. Assumptions hurt. When I suffer from such things, I am forever licking my wounds trying to make sense of the why. Do our children do the same? Do they have the insight into pondering the why? In a selfish, ridiculous sense, I hope not. I hope that they just shrug it off, and let it roll away like  raindrops on a window pane--not caring deep enough yet for the crazy mistakes people make. My daughter seems to take life that way. At her young age of six, she is quick to change the topic when it's about a mean kid or a sad instance. But, I know the hurt's not completely gone. I know she's just pushing it aside because it's too much to feel for her little soul.

When will those grievances finally build up enough to push on her heart in such a way she can no longer ignore them?

Life is messy. It hurts to be on the outside looking in, and knowing you are out of control. Actually, that's one thing I learned in October. I try too hard to control others. I apologize because I want to control the peace. I talk waaaay too much and overanalyze so I can find compromise and common ground and be liked and like back. I pick and prod at my children's feelings so I can counsel them and lead them to joy and peace.

But it's not my job.

I am only effective if they are willing to listen. If they are ready to peek beneath the bandages and begin to investigate their hurts--with me guiding them.

My perspective on life has shifted in a good way, but my heart will always feel more than it probably should, and my mind will always travel the roads of others' human experiences--especially my children--aching to inspect how to find redemption for their losses.

Thank God for the calling to write. At least there, I can dive deep, and create alongside the only Redeemer who remembers no grief and wants to throw the bandaids away.

What's a mama writer to do with the non-fiction silence though? Right now, I know I just pray. Love my kids big, and pray that their character arcs are bathed in redemption that only One can bring in full.

A Word on Summer

I am sitting on my couch, still in my p.j.s at 10:30 am. I can hear the clock tick and the dog whine and the morning dove cooing. Peace is pulsing.

But, my stomach churns and my head aches.

Peace is about me, but I am not a vessel of the stuff. I am a tangled mess.

WHAT THE HECK WAS I THINKING WHEN I SAID 'I JUST WISH IT WERE SUMMER'?????

The last day of school is creeping toward me like a great destroyer of my fragile balance beam that holds me up as a decent mother. And it's not going to snap because of my inability to maintain a household full of children. No, it's not about that. That's not the threat. I can do it. I tell myself I can, anyway. I mean, four kids over fourteen years? I've had practice.

If it's about ability to be home with my children, I am sure any homeschool mom would shoo me away as unworthy.

No, it has nothing to do with my ability to live each second with the little gems.

I love 'em. Honestly, I do. I love 'em more than myself...which might be a problem...perhaps.

But, they've peeled back the cute, joy-filled layers and handsome smiles, and shown me their uglies. And the uglies bring out my uglies. And that's just between the few hours after school.

WHAT THE HECK AM I GOING TO DO DAY IN AND DAY OUT?

I want control. I want kindness. I want order. I want a maid.

 I want perfectly content, self-entertaining, cordial, happy, non-complaining children. I'll get a maid before that'll ever happen. And you know what? The only way I can come to grips with it is by reminding myself...

IT'S NORMAL.

Please tell me it's so! Please remind me that this is all part of the growing, refining, messiness of motherhood and children-becoming-decent-human-beings process. This long, drawn out science experiment of ripping away routine and school for a hot season of suntan lotion and sticky popsicle sticks is necessary, right?

Thing is, as we go about our summerly business, sometimes with teeth clenched and hair in fists, my kids just always appear to be extraordinary "somethin'" when I play the comparison game. Luckily, I haven't met the woman who has the number and ages of kids that I do, and tells me her children are perfectly content, self-entertaining, cordial, happy, and non-complaining...

Have you?

Well, good for her. While she sips her tea and eats her bonbons, smiling and daunting over her joyful pets, I'll schedule my next girls' night and leave my own rascals to fend for themselves for an hour or two. And when I get home, I'll love them just as big as I can, even though, there are times, they just don't seem to deserve it.

That's what'll keep me sane.

Loving them in the chaos...even if they don't deserve it.

Yeah, "I want" has never satisfied. So I just need to lean back, play an oldie but goodie, reminding myself, "I will survive".

Happy Summer! There will be sweet moments, but let's face it, the days are going to be long.

My Son's Advocate: Mama Drama Monday

What do you do when your child is crushed by life? Every turn you see him struggle, you see him deal with emotions way too big for his life's predicaments. You see the glow of childhood snuffed out with the blink of a school semester.

I pray, and beg, and cry.

I seek answers, and solutions, and negotiations.

What I've come to find out is, getting him help starts with me. There's nobody so in-tuned to the heart of a child than his mother (except God, of course). And if I was unaware of his coming and going, his failures and struggles, then I think, he'd truly be tossed to the wayside to deal with life on his own.

And that can lead to a whole slew of problems down the way.

I write this today, to all the mamas out there. If you sense your child is clouded with gloom, speak up. If he's overwhelmed at school, set up that meeting with the counselor...the teacher...the principal. You are your child's ONLY advocate. You are the one who is attached to him not only by responsibility, but by love. And Love is definitely a powerful weapon.

I didn't realize how easy it would be for my child to get lost in the crowd, and I didn't expect his school's resources to be so willing to help. But I had to ask.

I had to be the squeaky wheel...for the sake of my child.

Lights were turned on, paths are being carved, and I see hope in my child's stance again. I see relief flow down upon his shoulders like cool waters, and he smiles and he anticipates and he is eager. He's found joy, or at least, the promise of it in the weeks ahead.

 I sit here, on this Mama Drama monday, the day after Mother's Day, and think, wow, what horrible drama might have occurred if I didn't listen to my God-given instinct to raise up my child through the muck.

Listen to your hearts, listen to your child, and step out as their advocate.

You are the only one.

My Baby's Comforter

I hate it when my kids are sick. Their little eyes are glassy and sad, and their face scrunch up with pain when they swallow or their tummy hurts. The only good thing that comes from illness, is the chance to give extra cuddles, extra love, extra time. I enjoy serving my family when they are healthy, but it is an extra token to be their comforter when they are sick.

Only a few times in my life have I felt completely hopeless as their comforter. Once, when my 15 month old was hospitalized for the flu and I had to watch the nurses stick tubes up his nose and into his lungs to suck out all the mucus. Nothing Mommy could say or do would make it feel any better or calm him in such a panicked situation of being held down and prodded.

Now is another time where I feel like I am standing by, hopeless, without the ability to soothe. My son is not sick, but he is downtrodden. He cries out with uncertainty of himself, but can't explain the hurt inside. He doesn't want to talk, he holds back his words for fear they will come out wrong. My heart aches for his loss of self-confidence, his struggle to find joy. Sure, it is probably just a phase that is foreshadowing the pre-teen years which are not too far ahead, but right now, this mama wants to hold her baby and take away his hurt. But it's not that easy. How can you change the way someone feels? There is no bandaid except a destructive turn of the head that ignores his deteriorating self-esteem.

All I can do is pray and rely on the faithful hand of God. My only joy from this comes from the already answered prayers and God-surprises along the way that have assured me one very important thing:

That my son is not mine, but God's.

God has proven that He cares for my son these past few days. I can try and butt up against Him and use my own words, my own techniques, my own strategies, or I can step aside and allow the One who most assuredly has the ability to comfort the deep down hurts do His work.
 It's difficult to imagine that there is someone who loves my son more than me, but no matter how much I love him, I can't always comfort him. I must accept that my Heavenly Father, my son's Heavenly Father, will love him more and will never fail as his ultimate Comforter.

A Mother's Tether

I came to Panera by myself, with every intent to study the word of God without the distractions of my busy house. The study I am in right now, has not found it's way into my heart as I hoped. I have definitely received nuggets out of it and have even blogged about it before, but either pregnancy ADD or my heart's condition has brought me up to a wall every time I try to push forward in the study. So, I logged into the free wifi, and went to one of my sure-thing websites, Proverbs 31. And yes, God was there waiting.

The first devotional I read was about friendship. It spoke of how "as iron sharpens iron, so does one man sharpen another." You know I have been contemplating my friendships these days. And I can only think of a few friendships in my whole life where this verse applies. One being my husband. How often I forget that he is my unconditional best friend. He sharpens me in such a way, that I sometimes struggle with the humility it brings. I pray that I sharpen him too!

But the second devotional...this gave me a word picture which I will never forget, and for that I am forever thankful. The message was about children who go astray as adults, and although I am not "there" right now, the author's words struck such an impression in my mind that I know I have gained much as a parent tonight:

"So go right now and tether your child to God with a lifeline of prayer."

Friends, how awesome it is that we have the power of the Holy Spirit to connect our children to God even when they refuse Him and have their backs turned? My children are at a young age right now, and I feel so privileged to be able to tether them to the God of the universe with prayer, before they even get the chance to stray. The author of the devo says that Jesus did this with Simon Peter and told him that "God has asked to sift him like wheat" but when he was ready to repent, to go and reveal God to his brothers. Jesus focused on Simon's eventual witness to bring glory to God after the trials. He didn't say he would take the trials away from Simon Peter, but that the trials would bring him through to God's plan! God allowed Simon Peter to stretch his tethered rope far from Him, knowing that he would eventually release the tension and come back to the loving hand of God.
Oh that I allow my children to take their own steps knowing that I have tethered them to God in prayer, and that I will give God the room to grow them through the trials!