Learning to let go of the First Born

K arrived home last night from his Spring break adventure in Destin with a friends whose family generously invited him to be a guest on their trip. He had the usual avalanche of stories to share: silly teenage boy stuff, complaints about stuff that he found annoying, observations about how kids who are "only children" experience a completely different life than he has ("The parents kept asking where WE wanted to go to dinner! It was so weird...")

Then he told me about a story related to his latest passion, signing. (Not the sign-flipping you see people doing on the side of the road, but Sign Language)

Startling Discoveries

There really are no words to describe how startled I am by the fact that I own a cat. He is fat. He is needy. He whines every morning to be fed from the mudroom where he is sequestered nightly. And he is currently shedding more hair than my hand-me-down Dyson can extract from the carpet. (As a side note, it just occurred to me that my vacuum is also held together by duct tape. Along with my washing machine, and I'm not sure if this trend means I am becoming a red neck or that I AM a red neck. Either way, something of concern I shall think about tomorrow.) Back to the cat.

His name is Wellington, but we call him Welly. He started off as a porch kitty. He got in a cat fight though, which required vet treatment. So then he became a mostly indoor, and front de-clawed kitty. Then the night I got in from my 40 hour trip home from India he got in another cat fight outside my window at 4am. Picture me, in pajama's outside trying to coax my crazy cat to come out from under the boxwood and let me bring him inside. I mean, he has NO FRONT CLAWS! Why is he trying to defend the honor of the homestead?? Just run up a tree or something. Oh no, not Welly. He just chased the other cat down the road and I gave up and went inside to get a little more sleep. Well, 2 weeks and $350 later, I lowered the boom on Welly. No more outside for you Mister! You haven't the sense to stay out of trouble so now you'll have to be an all indoor Kitty. I actually had this conversation with him, which I think is a sure sign of something more alarming than potentially being a red neck. Am I becoming a..... Cat Person?

The signs are there people, there's no denying it. I talk to the cat. Sometimes in that voice you use on babies. I have pictures of the cat. (see below. But in my defense, it WAS fairly cute seeing him all curled up under the tree.) I worried about him when he got in the last cat fight and his ear got an abscess. (Although, again in my defense an abscess by the brain can kill you. So, I think it was a valid worry.) My dear friend Tracey has been accusing me for some time of loving my cat. I have emphatically denied it. I didn't even want the cat, for crying out loud. My husband and middle son talked me into it, with promises of doing all the work. But, I think it's time to concede. Here is how I currently describe Welly:

He's everything I ever wanted in the cat I didn't want.

Not sure if it's love, but I know I'll be up feeding him tomorrow morning on my day off when I could be sleeping in, because, well it does seem a little unfair to make him eat later. But, for the love of all that's good, somebody stop me if I begin bringing up Welly in conversations or have a T-shirt made with his picture on it!

Pink

Today I am wearing the greatest hot pink shirt. Love it. Have already received multiple compliments from my sweet co-workers. Got it on clearance, which makes it even better!

Today (and yesterday) there was a lot of pink in my scheduling book. We use a pink highlighter to indicate a client "no showed" which usually equals "no paid" for me. (Not favorite) Makes me all the more happy that my shirt was on clearance.

This morning I got hugs from the cutest little snaggle-toothed girl in pink jammies. LOVE her. (The real love, not the kind I reserve for cute shirts.)

Hope your day is a good "tickled pink" kind of day, and not the "pink slip" sort. Of course, we learn more usually in the latter.....

Teenage Boys

You know you live in a house with teenagers when you open the fridge and find this:

Yes, a COMPLETELY empty pitcher was placed back in the fridge, rather than load it in the dishwasher or wash it by hand. Sigh. On the flip side, the language my two speak is "humor" and I'm laughing more than scolding as a result. One of the advantages of raising teenage boys is knowing that some things in life don't have to be taken quite so seriously. 

Debi Russell, Warrior Princess

"But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." (2Cor. 4:7-9) 


Today I have one simple, but true thought: The King of the Universe houses His very Spirit in me. I don't deserve it, I didn't earn it and I can't get rid of it if I try. And, because of His Spirit, it is shocking and outrageous what this middle-aged, small framed, slightly mushy mom of three can do. I do battle, face giants, overcome temptation and walk in victory- even on days when I screw up, sin  and fail royally. Maybe especially on those days. Because the bottom line is it's not my power, wisdom, talent or righteousness that saves me or anyone else. Sometimes I want to rely on those traits, but when my heart is lined up with reality I know better. I do not want it to be my own strength I'm counting on when the chips are down. But by His Spirit I do not walk in fear. I do not become hopeless. I do not believe the lies that "I can't stand this" or "My life isn't making a difference"  or "I'm all alone in this battle." 


There is a dark, hurting, disillusioned and broken world out there. Sin and pain run rampant and  people do horrible things to one another. Jesus did not lay down his life for me so I could enjoy a cozy, comfy existence. We're in a battle and our weapons aren't bullets, political slogans or t-shirts. They're faith, hope and love. We don't fight against people- we fight for them. And we don't seek victory for our sake, but for His glory. 

New friends in India who learned the good news of Hope in Jesus as we sat and talked together.

Creativity

My little 3rd grader is learning times tables. Slowly. It's been a bit of a process. I had a system that worked well for me when I was a kid, so I set it up every week to help Em learn. I involves flash cards and saying them out loud and self-testing. I'm fairly proud of it. The funny thing is Emma wasn't learning them as well as I did with that method. So finally, when we got to the 12's I let her come up with her own method.

How cool is that? It's a "pup" with little post-it's hiding the answer to the facts she has to memorize. So she can self test. I wish I had let her come up with something for all the other numbers too. One part of motherhood I'm still working on is letting the kids come up with their own creative solutions instead of controlling the "how" they get to necessary "what" we have to accomplish. 

Beyond the Storm Closet

Every spring I enjoy certain traditions. I like to give the house a good cleaning. I start thinking about planting flowers. And because I live in middle TN, I clear out our tornado closet. (This is more a necessity than a favorite.) We happen to live in a very volatile springtime area. In fact, just three days ago we were set to hunker down in our closet, if needed. Which all got me thinking about how we survive the metaphorical storms in our life, that can and often do, come during all seasons.

God’s word has much to say about this, and this is certainly not all of it, but a few things to remember, if you or someone you love is in a stormy season:

1. Don’t try to explain the “why” as a way to prove God’s plan or purpose.
When Job went through his lengthy trial, one of the ways his friends tried to help was to offer their theories on why he was suffering. (They got chastised by God himself for this, by the way.) But, I think I understand their dilemma. When someone we love is suffering, and we watch their discouragement, we want to help them make sense of it all. I think we even feel pressured to make sure God doesn’t “look bad”. So we theorize. We come up with plausible explanations for why this is being allowed.  The main problem with this is: we don’t know why! Isaiah 55:8 tells us that our ways and thoughts are not God’s ways and thoughts. A much better approach is to go back to the cross. At the cross, all issues of God’s goodness and love for us are settled. “He who did not spare his own son, but gave him up for us all- how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” (Rom. 8:32) The proof of God’s love for you is found in knowing there was no length He would not go to, in order to create a way for you to come back to Him. If he was willing to sacrifice his own son, then what good thing will he withhold? Our perspective on suffering must be filtered through the lens of the gospel. We may not ever know why- but we can be confident that God loves us and is working for our good and His glory in ALL things (Rom. 8:28).

2. Don’t go through it alone.
So often, we try to ride out the storms in silence, not wanting to bother or burden others. But the bible is clear that we are to “share one another’s burdens” (Gal 6:2). When we go through crisis or struggle, often we are in shock. Our thinking is not always clear. We need stronger, loving people around us to guide us and encourage us, until we get back on our feet.

3. Cry out to God.
When the disciples were in the boat and Jesus was sleeping below, and the biggest storm of the season blew in, they cried out to Jesus. Not the most poetic of prayers either- they actually woke him up with the question, “Don’t you care that we are going to drown!?” (Mark 4:37-39) This is what I love about that story- we don’t come to God in our strength to “wow” Him into helping us in a crisis. Just come to Him! In your brokenness, doubt, fear, faithlessness, weakness and vulnerability- cry out! As he did for the disciples, he will do for you. Jesus offers peace that is not based on circumstances. Phil. 4:7 calls this a “peace which transcends all understanding”. That means, it makes no sense, but we experience it all the same. Sometimes, Jesus calms the storm. Sometimes he calms your heart in the middle of it, while the storm rages on. It’s God’s miraculous work, but it is real. I see it all the time in the lives of clients, friends and even in myself.

4. Take care of your own needs.
When we go through a trial or crisis, sometimes we just forget to eat. Or sleep. Or pay bills. (Another reason for point 2- see above). But if we follow Jesus’ example throughout the gospels, we see Him take care of what his body needed to keep going. Sometimes he stopped to rest. Sometimes he sent the disciples to get him some food. He delegated responsibility. He slept and prayed and sent people away when he needed time alone. When you are in a stormy season, set limits on what you can and can’t do. Spend time alone with God. Spend time caring for your basic needs. Ask for what you can’t do for yourself.

The old expression says, “March comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb.”  When you are in a trial or storm, remember this: The Lion of Judah has marched into the darkest battle ever waged on your behalf and came out victorious! There is no storm you face God cannot see you through.

A tribute to my washing machine, that died last night- RIP ol' girl!

(This is a piece I wrote last year. Seemed appropriate to repost in honor of the last load washed yesterday!)

As I was doing what probably amounts to my 100,000th load of laundry since becoming a mom, I decided I could look back and mark the stages by what was going in and out, and in and out again, of my laundry.

Years ago it was onesies and bibs and nursing bras and maternity clothes I still needed, even though the baby was 6 weeks old. My life was consumed by sleeplessness and worry, sheer delight and intense love, feedings and changings. I was in first-time-mom bliss. It was overwhelming, though I worked hard to make it look to others like it was a breeze. I didn't like the uncertainty and inexperience- I wanted to be the perfect mother to this precious first born son. My loads of laundry per week had taken a jump from four to six.

A few years later, and the same onesies and bibs and crib sheets make an encore appearance for "bundle of joy" number two. I am more exhausted but less worried. The first time fears have subsided, and I find I bounce back to life with more ease- ready to chase after a toddler and cuddle my newborn. There are new items in the basket on a weekly basis now- big boy bed sheets, blue jeans overalls and tiny tube socks needed to wear with the brace my first born needs for walking. I am in a constant state of motion- two little boys keep me busier than I have ever been. My desire to be a perfect mom is still strong, but now I believe it's actually possible, so I work really hard to achieve it. Laundry loads are at seven weekly.

Around two years after that, I am done with onesies, bibs, baby clothes- and heart-breakingly, marriage. I am consumed with grief and fear of the future. I know God says He has a plan- but it feels as though my plan has derailed. This is not what I signed up for. The boys are full of life however, which takes it's form in  rocks and worms and dirty jeans in my laundry loads. Their jammies are snap-together at the waist and Buzz Light Year and Aurthur and Blue's Clue's t-shirts make their way in and out of the basket. My clothing is looking more professional, less mommy-like, as I go back to working with my dad and learn to be a single mom. One relief- laundry loads drop weekly back to four.

Fast forward three years. The washer and dryer and everything else in my life, has relocated to Tennessee. The laundry basket holds big boy clothes- still stained in the knees. Cub scouts and karate uniforms make their way in for a season at a time. Jammies are a thing of the past- now it's boxers and t-shirts for sleeping. The basket also holds maternity tops and pants and dresses, as I am expecting a brand new bundle of joy with my husband of one year. I am consumed with joy as a newlywed and expectant mommy. I am firmly convinced there are no perfect mothers- as raising two boys, two years apart will teach you. I have peace now, knowing perfection was never my job. I enjoy my days as a mom more and more, although new challenges like bickering and picky eating and knowing when they need a time out vs. a spanking do cause me stress. I am not quite a carpool mom although I feel like one with kids in elementary school to shuffle back and forth. I am more exhausted than I have ever been and I nap every day. The loads every week has doubled to eight, and it seems to always be piled up in some stage of not-quite-finished.

Several years later and there are finally pink, lacy and fluffy items making their way through my weekly wash, along with bigger jeans, bigger tops and skinnier mama clothes. There are now seemingly endless soccer jerseys and soccer socks, as the husband has learned to love the beautiful game. I am a mother of three. I am a youth pastor's wife. I am a preschool worker. I am never, ever caught up on laundry. But I am caught up on sleep- Praise the Lord! I am consumed with homework, paperwork, household work and finding time to date my husband- who seems to be getting better looking every year, while it seems as though age is beginning to show itself on me in wrinkles and the need to color all the grays. I think life may be just about perfect, as my loads per week are at nine.

Two years later and my life feels as though it has all changed direction once again. I decide to not ever get too settled on one thought for the future. I am now a missionary's wife, a christian counselor and a mother to four- as we are guardians to one of the teens who was part of the youth group we led. My laundry is over-flowing. I am consumed with keeping up. It feels like I am commander of a small army. There are new worries as I try to monitor the newest child's drug habit- and look through pockets for evidence of his struggle. I have four kids in three schools and I am fully a carpool mom. I add even more professional clothing to my wardrobe as I embrace this new career in counseling. The husband keeps the soccer gear and adds missionary gear to the mix. I don't have time to think about being perfect- it's a relief to know God's grace will be enough. My laundry has become, out of necessity, a well-oiled machine- and I crank out 12 loads every week.

Today I am back to being a mom of three. I only do laundry for 2 of the children however, as the oldest does his own, in exchange for having a cell phone paid for by the parents. The girl's clothing is less fluffy and lacy, and more hot pink, orange and turquoise. There are ballet leotards for the girl, work-out gear for the ever-sweaty boys. I am able to breathe again. I find I have adjusted to being a carpool and working mom, just in time to have one child ready to drive. I am consumed with not missing a moment- because every day I realize the moments are blurring together with alarming speed. I only have three years left with the first born, before college comes calling. I do not worry about being a good mom anymore- by the grace of God I know I am doing what He's called me to do with these three children. I continue to find time to date my husband- I realize soon enough it will be only his and my clothing in the laundry basket- and I'd like us to still be in love when that happens. The laundry is on the down swing again- eight loads weekly.

If you've ever seen my washing machine, you'll wonder why I haven't hauled it to the curb. It is literally held together with duct tape. True story. On a practical level I plan to use it till it dies, because that's what I always do. I'm cheap like that. On another level, I like looking at it. It looks like it's been through war and years of work and seems so unlikely that it keeps getting the clothing clean. But it does. Which feels in some ways like my life as a mom. My duct tape is God's grace and it holds me together in every season. And I plan to keep doing my job as a mom till I die and get my upgrade to a brand new garment. And while some people look forward to getting a crown in heaven, I am just excited to spend eternity in a place with no washing machines at all.