A Smallness

I was always told as a child, that adults are bigger, smarter. I have this glitch in my brain code telling me that I need to stomp my foot and demand my children listen to me. I need to be bigger and smarter. I am the grown up, I am the mom, I am the person God put in charge of YOU, CHILD!

I hang my head and wag it back and forth while they look at me with wide eyes, and an even wider attempt to completely ignore me.

All talk, Mama.

All puffed up chest, forceful words, arrogant example for the kids I tell not to be arrogant.

Hypocrite, maybe. Poor parenting. Terrible perspective. Defeated. Failing. Unfaithful. Unwise.

Okay, this spiral just hit the bottom and everything's flying. I am trying to grasp my hope, while camping in a parenting fail.

But, when I get here, to this familiar destruction, I am tempted to let go of hope, and fly...maybe run away to apathy or self-centeredness, or book a gazillion girls' nights and maybe a solo vacay somewhere. Honestly, I think a few of those ideas have their very important place, and I might just do at least one girls' night and vacay soon. But, for now, I try to find Truth to suck away this storm, and it's all about looking in the mirror and really seeing the problem.

It's me.

Why me? Don't you respect ME, CHILD? It's all about YOU doing good for ME!

 I've been parenting out of pride, in old patterns, without the truth that's been planted long ago.

Ugh.

All talk, Mama.

I know in my heart, I want better for my children, for me. I have bought into Christ's economy. Small is big. The least of these is the most. The gentle spirit is bold. Love over success. Why do I always need a reminder? But I do. And I sought one today.  I listened to Sharon Hodde Miller, and her words calm my storm and remind me what I want to live for:

"Humility is a smallness we freely choose. It is a glad lowering. It is possessing an identity firmly planted in Christ, which means it has nothing to prove." 

A glad lowering. Not just a lowering, but a glad one. Can I smile again? Can I let these quick blips just be blips and smile with my children again? And can I do if just because it's my God's example, and not try and prove that I am doing it, but that I am able to sit in smallness with lips firmly shut?

No talk, Mama. My kids aren't the only ones going through growing pains. Ouch. Heart growing hurts. But, I know it's worth it.

I am that mom.

I am that mom.

The one who has a gaggle of kids, sitting alone in church.

I am that mom. The one you look at with pity--or criticism--the mom who has a kid sitting in her gaggle who just did THAT in church, when everyone is silent and the pastor's praying.

I am that mom, whose shoulders shake during the prayer because I'm crying so hard at my circumstance, my humiliation, and my anticipation of what's coming next. What's the next disruption my family can manage to include in this one hour long beating of sitting together to focus on the beating of a Savior?

I am that mom, who you might think needs a good talking to because her children are OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW, but they don't behave, and they are disrespectful and loud and angry and giggly and all the things we were never allowed to be in church.

I am that mom who read the SAME parenting books as the mom across the aisle whose kids sit nicely and behave.

I am that mom who may have once judged another mom whose kids were out of control at church, and was miffed that they would disrupt my worship session.

I am that mom who's eating crow.

I am that mom whose family is broken. We just are. We are all grieving. And every church service is a flat-out reminder that we are still in the cycle of grief. Sure, we might not have suffered divorce, or death, or financial ruin--but we are grieving just the same.

Is that why my children--the gifted and talented one, the superstar athlete one, the compassionate, ginormous heart one, and the larger-than-life one--become weighted down with bad behavior when we sit there, trying to focus on the God Who was flushed away by the one person we all love so very much?

I am crushed by my embarrassment. I am absolutely distraught in my hopelessness. And I find myself on the verge of tears even twelve hours later.

Have you ever been there? Have you ever felt like an ant under a spy glass with your tribe throwing knives at you?

My only saving grace is a friend who was there to listen to me weep afterward. A friend who understands the immense pressure I feel, and the possible ground of attack that has replaced our foundation.

I am that mom, who might just let her kids sleep in on Sunday morning, and many Sundays after.

I am that mom, who, if you see me with my eyes closed in prayer, with five empty seats about me, I am praying my heart out for my family.

For the grief.

For the healing.

But most importantly...

For a hopeful future season of renewal and resurrection. And if I see another mom, struggling to maintain her composure, I can be of encouragement and tell her I've been that mom too.

Hiding From The World

It's a scary world out there.

And our kids are living in it.

But because it's scary, we get the chance to teach our kids important lessons...lessons they would never learn unless they are faced with it...while we are near them to guide them. If we wait to send them out in the scary world as adults, then they won't have us beside them to guide them. And frankly, it might be too late.

We don't want to raise gullible, naive adults, do we?

We don't want to raise outspoken, judgmental people who think there is only one way to do something, and who can't handle if someone shows them a different way?

Our kids need to be raised in a way that they cling to what they know is fruitful and abundant, and have a heart to share that with the world. They'll never have a chance if they are hidden from the world. They will never be credible if they come to the "game" too late.

It's time we raise up strong, passionate human beings who are not scared of the world, but who know the world and choose to make it better.

Christ sat at the table with sinners. He didn't tell his apostles to hide in the corner and wait for him to return. He sent them OUT.

I want my kids to live in this world, discover the good, the bad, and the ugly...and know that the good is the path to take. I don't want to hide the bad and the ugly so they don't even recognize it, or they run from it and miss the opportunity to make a difference.

They need to know. They need to be equipped now, so they can stand out later.

Hiding from the world never did anyone any good. And it's not what Christ commands of us. We need to be in it...not of it...but in it, so we can make a difference.

A Ramble From My Heart

More than ever, I cry this: Let God Arise. Let His Spirit flood this house again. Let it take captive the hearts of my children...and my husband.

It's been a rough night.  Easter prep was shoved aside when my son needed me most.

Really, he needs God most.

And I cry in anguish. Nothing less because of the misery of my child. His anxiety and emotion trap him. What can I do for him? How can I help him?

Lord, when will YOU help him?

I sit with my journaling Bible, and feel lost. How can anyone be lost with the Scriptures at their fingertips? But I read and weep and wonder if any words can soothe my heart right now.

Of course, God shows up in His Word and I read this:

Listen, O my people, to my instruction;
Incline your ears to the words of my mouth.
2 I will open my mouth in a parable;
I will utter dark sayings of old,
3 Which we have heard and known,
And our fathers have told us.
4 We will not conceal them from their children,
But tell to the generation to come the praises of the Lord,
And His strength and His wondrous works that He has done.

I beg the Lord, "What I can possibly do for my son?" And the Lord uses His children to teach me how to raise my own. If you know this passage from Psalm 78 at all, it is an equipping of the future generations by the teaching of God's works. It's the touchy subject around here, and the struggle to go to Church each Sunday, and to pray, and to pass on to my children the works of God, and to give my children a chance. And in moments like tonight with my son, I feel as though I've cowered enough that the foundation is crumbling beneath us...this house is falling.

How easy it is to remember the bad stuff, and how difficult it is to recall the glimpses at God's hand in our lives. And then to put it in words without sounding foolish and superstitious. But I must continue on. For the sake of my children. I am thankful that at least I have Scripture, to remember others' encounters with God. Tomorrow, I awake to celebrate the biggest remembrance of His goodness. May my children, my son, find the hope in that.

Oh how I want the power of the Resurrection to come down on this home. How I want the Earth to shake, and God to Arise before the very eyes of my children. And my husband.

To wipe away the sorrow, the doubt, the anger. 
To make us whole again. To heal us in all this brokenness.

Father, come.