I am not a great mother. I didn't grow up learning how to care for children and a home. The fact that this family resembles a family and this home doesn't cave in due to dust bunnies and debris is simply amazing. Somewhere along the way when we gave birth to the first fellow something just clicked in this mind..."he's important and he deserves something good from me" and the thoughts were repeated with each addition to the family. The idea of being there for them everyday wasn't something I learned, it was just logical to do that.
Little child put in my arms by a doctor, making funny noises, crying and making me cry because I don't know what to do...Each one was different so we never really had anything figured out. With each different personality came a different technique for dealing with those personalities. I knew early on of my desperate need for His help. He has been faithful for if you look at us from a distance we manage to resemble a family and if you come closer, you can see the love.
They have been shown love for years now and now they leave trails of it for us, like a flower girl dropping flower petals down an aisle. It's just who they are, and what's been pumped in coming out as a fountain...and right now Dad and I are the basins that catch most of that love.
They're far from sinless...actually terribly flawed like their parents, but they know how to love. Oldest girl knows how a Josh Groban song can be soothing for her mama, so while listening to Christmas music lately when his voice comes, she turns it up, not for her, for she doesn't like that, but for me...that's one way she loves. Little guy, when asked to bring me a blanket the other night, comes back with "here, I brought your special one", it was the one Oldest boy brought back from Honduras and it is special. They all love very well.
Most people who've received love tend to pour it back out. Do we take time to see it though? It takes watching them to really recognize that what they're doing is loving us. Sometimes love can easily be overlooked. A sweet act of love can be interpreted as simply what someone owes us and over years, as the love gifts are not valued, those precious ones may cease in the giving. Who wants to keep giving what is not appreciated? Well, there is One. He does that well to me for I have shown little acknowledgement to His great gifts of Love on many occasions, but He keeps giving.
I may have to make a caution sign for myself...a reminder to slow down and look for the love expressed, not just from them, but from Him too.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
I don't relish their pain, but I want them to suffer
Today has been declared a holiday by oldest girl. Don't think her awful, but she's celebrating the departure of her younger siblings, all three of whom have taken off to Georgia with their grandma to visit their great-grandma. Oldest girl really does love them...she shows it often with her actions around here, but she delights in moments when she and big brother are the only two. So she makes chocolate chip pancakes this morning while playing music which livens her like coffee does others.
I enjoy these times, but some of the other times we've seen lately are the ones I know they need too. The times of pain, discomfort, sorrow...the times we don't celebrate, but dread.
Mankind has a tonic for every situation that offers the slightest of negative emotions. If one feels uncomfortable around people, if sadness is too intense, if disappointment comes...there seems to always be a man-solution for it. We surround people who are suffering sometimes when they need to experience the loneliness so they will call on a Father who is the company they can rely on much more than us. We give pills that allow a numbing so they won't feel sorrow when they need to face the sorrow so they can see a Father who brings them through what seems so unbearable. We offer substances that will bring one a sensation of ease when usually they would feel fear, a fear that could motivate them to ask of One who gives courage.
We offer answers according to our limited understanding sometimes out of affection for those we love, but our answers lead to people relying on people.
I want these small people He has put in this home to learn to rely on One who is not limited. My help will come to an end quickly, my band aids for their hurts will not cure, but if they are allowed to suffer, they will find the Source for all healing. Healing that is not artificial and temporary, but healing that is real and eternal.
What do I do then? I learn to stand aside and not get involved in every situation. I learn to pray. Help when I can do something, but then walk away and let them suffer so that they will call on Him...more than a help, one who can salvage, make new, bring joy, give courage, change, and grow them.
2 Timothy 1:8,9 & 12--"...but share with me in the sufferings for the gospel according to the power of God, who has saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace...For this reason I also suffer these things nevertheless I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able..."
I enjoy these times, but some of the other times we've seen lately are the ones I know they need too. The times of pain, discomfort, sorrow...the times we don't celebrate, but dread.
Mankind has a tonic for every situation that offers the slightest of negative emotions. If one feels uncomfortable around people, if sadness is too intense, if disappointment comes...there seems to always be a man-solution for it. We surround people who are suffering sometimes when they need to experience the loneliness so they will call on a Father who is the company they can rely on much more than us. We give pills that allow a numbing so they won't feel sorrow when they need to face the sorrow so they can see a Father who brings them through what seems so unbearable. We offer substances that will bring one a sensation of ease when usually they would feel fear, a fear that could motivate them to ask of One who gives courage.
We offer answers according to our limited understanding sometimes out of affection for those we love, but our answers lead to people relying on people.
I want these small people He has put in this home to learn to rely on One who is not limited. My help will come to an end quickly, my band aids for their hurts will not cure, but if they are allowed to suffer, they will find the Source for all healing. Healing that is not artificial and temporary, but healing that is real and eternal.
What do I do then? I learn to stand aside and not get involved in every situation. I learn to pray. Help when I can do something, but then walk away and let them suffer so that they will call on Him...more than a help, one who can salvage, make new, bring joy, give courage, change, and grow them.
2 Timothy 1:8,9 & 12--"...but share with me in the sufferings for the gospel according to the power of God, who has saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace...For this reason I also suffer these things nevertheless I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able..."
Monday, November 16, 2009
my quiet time of looking through the window
Anyone who has peeked into this blog as of yet realizes by now there is no great wisdom pouring out from it, just words conceived by a life lived imperfectly, but desperately clinging to what is stable...Him.
At this time in life, I freely admit I am parched, dry as a dead, brown fallen leaf in autumn. When I am in church, sometimes one of the pastors may make a statement like "if you're not feeling something here right now, then something's wrong with you" and I realize there might just be something wrong with me, for I feel nothing much. I go to church and watch as it looks like wonderful things are taking place, but I know I'm not part of it. It's like I'm on the outside of great things He's doing, just watching, being a spectator, seeing Him working in others, but I remain unaffected. There is no great trial that has presented itself just this person being distracted by things that happen in life instead of staying focused on the One who gave it. But even in this desert place, I see His workings. And though I feel nothing, I cannot be swayed to doubt Him because evidence of Him is all about and obvious.
It's like the wind. When I'm outside and the wind passes by, I cannot see it, but it's evident as it whistles through my hair. But sometimes, I'm inside where it cannot touch me and I cannot feel it, but I still see it's effects as trees sway back and forth.
Today, looking out the window, hardly any sign of movement in the trees has been seen. Just a simple dead stillness, which is kind of how I'm feeling, but back behind our house, just over a little hill, is a very thin pine tree permanently leaning to the side. It was permanently tilted a few years back when a tropical storm blew through. It stands as evidence that the wind has been here, so I know it was real and more than likely will be back. It's just that today's a quiet day.
So in my quiet days of right now, when I'm feeling nothing, I have searched the landscape and seen many things in this life which have been permanently altered thanks to the only One who could have done that. Even in the stillness, what He has already done stands as a witness to me.
John 3:8--"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."
At this time in life, I freely admit I am parched, dry as a dead, brown fallen leaf in autumn. When I am in church, sometimes one of the pastors may make a statement like "if you're not feeling something here right now, then something's wrong with you" and I realize there might just be something wrong with me, for I feel nothing much. I go to church and watch as it looks like wonderful things are taking place, but I know I'm not part of it. It's like I'm on the outside of great things He's doing, just watching, being a spectator, seeing Him working in others, but I remain unaffected. There is no great trial that has presented itself just this person being distracted by things that happen in life instead of staying focused on the One who gave it. But even in this desert place, I see His workings. And though I feel nothing, I cannot be swayed to doubt Him because evidence of Him is all about and obvious.
It's like the wind. When I'm outside and the wind passes by, I cannot see it, but it's evident as it whistles through my hair. But sometimes, I'm inside where it cannot touch me and I cannot feel it, but I still see it's effects as trees sway back and forth.
Today, looking out the window, hardly any sign of movement in the trees has been seen. Just a simple dead stillness, which is kind of how I'm feeling, but back behind our house, just over a little hill, is a very thin pine tree permanently leaning to the side. It was permanently tilted a few years back when a tropical storm blew through. It stands as evidence that the wind has been here, so I know it was real and more than likely will be back. It's just that today's a quiet day.
So in my quiet days of right now, when I'm feeling nothing, I have searched the landscape and seen many things in this life which have been permanently altered thanks to the only One who could have done that. Even in the stillness, what He has already done stands as a witness to me.
John 3:8--"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."
Thursday, November 5, 2009
allowing the hurt
By the time I had my fifth child, I had read a variety of info about labor and how best to get through it. There was one thing that helped a great deal with labor for me. One bit of simple advice. Don't fight the pain, just allow it. I tend to be very tense naturally so when pain comes, my whole body fights it. I practiced "just allowing it" and to my surprise it worked. No tension of fighting the pain, but just relaxing the body and letting the pain come, since it was coming whether I welcomed it or not! I made it farther along with no meds in labor when I practiced that than when bracing myself, tensing up and gritting teeth. I guess I should do the same in all aspects of life.
There are certainly labor pains in life when poor choices give birth to consequences. I think there are stretch marks too, those would be the creases across my forehead. Sometimes in the living I fail to stop and ask for direction from the One who loves me most. I do that "leaning unto my own understanding" thing and end up in the mire. Shortly after that, the contractions begin. For the most part in the past, I have anguished as the pain comes. Asking questions of why and pleading for the situation to be fixed. Now, however, due to my great resume, which shows my extensive list of achievements in the area of causing problems for myself, I am learning the same solution I learned through childbirth...just allow the pain. Allow the pain because it is a natural result of doing things my way. Yes, there are tears and prayers from a low hanging head, but not as many questions of why or pleading for an answer, more just enduring and reminding myself "next time ask Him how to handle the situation so you don't end up here again". I just do the next thing as I allow the pain. Although I'm not real thrilled with the agony in the heart, I excitedly await the arrival of a big bundle of growth.
There are certainly labor pains in life when poor choices give birth to consequences. I think there are stretch marks too, those would be the creases across my forehead. Sometimes in the living I fail to stop and ask for direction from the One who loves me most. I do that "leaning unto my own understanding" thing and end up in the mire. Shortly after that, the contractions begin. For the most part in the past, I have anguished as the pain comes. Asking questions of why and pleading for the situation to be fixed. Now, however, due to my great resume, which shows my extensive list of achievements in the area of causing problems for myself, I am learning the same solution I learned through childbirth...just allow the pain. Allow the pain because it is a natural result of doing things my way. Yes, there are tears and prayers from a low hanging head, but not as many questions of why or pleading for an answer, more just enduring and reminding myself "next time ask Him how to handle the situation so you don't end up here again". I just do the next thing as I allow the pain. Although I'm not real thrilled with the agony in the heart, I excitedly await the arrival of a big bundle of growth.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
for the pea-pickers soul
Thumbs are sore this morning and will be again today. Yesterday I was given the sweetest gift anyone could give me. Of course the givers would never know that. After all, why would anyone think that picking peas could act as salve on a soul?
Memories of my six Georgia years are welcome in my mind, the only ones I ever try to recall. I was two on arriving and eight when we left. This was the worst time for my parents. Jobs were difficult to find. We were the poor family at church that received "charity" in various forms. I can understand how difficult this must have been for my parents now. As a parent, I know it would be humbling to have people offer you "gifts" because someone thought you were unable to care for your own. People want to be kind and give to the unfortunate, but it's those who are willing to receive it who face the humble task, for in the taking sometimes you're admitting you need the help.
Once the church gave my mom a sum of money to help with expenses. Shortly after that, at a church related event she saw a show and tell record player. You slid the film strip in the slot and played the record, as the Bible story was told, the film strip slid down and showed the pictures on a t.v. screen. She wanted it so badly so she used the money the church had given her to buy it. As she made the purchase, the pastor of the church gave her a disapproving look. (Sometimes when people give charity, it's yours as long as you use it as they wish.) She felt so small, but she never regretted getting it. We learned many Bible stories from watching it. Anyway the humbling times are not ever going to be remembered fondly, I suppose. So those Georgia years meant hardship and shame for my parents but for me, those were my good times.
We picked in others' gardens. The deal was always the same, whatever we picked, we kept half and gave them the other half as payment for letting us pick in their fields. I don't ever remember enjoying the picking back then, but whenever I get to now there is a strange peace and pleasure that combine to soothe negative feelings. Memories are tricky, the really bad ones can sometimes be dominant, drowning out the existence of the good. But when one experiences something again, that deja vu moment can stir up the memories so the good that was buried deep now resurfaces. That happens in a pea field for me. I could pick peas for days and never tire just to get that.
My favorite recent pea picking memory was when my mom, sister, and I went back to Georgia one year and brought my grandma to this massive pea farm. There were acres and acres of peas. My sister does not find anything appealing about farming or country life so watching her in a pea field again was funny. We knew she didn't like it, but she kept on until finally she stood tall in that pea field and starting singing loudly the country song "She thinks my tractor's sexy..." She and I both share the same childhood memories...maybe a little nostalgia hit her in that moment too, a little "chicken soup for the pea pickers soul".
James 1:17--"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above..."
Memories of my six Georgia years are welcome in my mind, the only ones I ever try to recall. I was two on arriving and eight when we left. This was the worst time for my parents. Jobs were difficult to find. We were the poor family at church that received "charity" in various forms. I can understand how difficult this must have been for my parents now. As a parent, I know it would be humbling to have people offer you "gifts" because someone thought you were unable to care for your own. People want to be kind and give to the unfortunate, but it's those who are willing to receive it who face the humble task, for in the taking sometimes you're admitting you need the help.
Once the church gave my mom a sum of money to help with expenses. Shortly after that, at a church related event she saw a show and tell record player. You slid the film strip in the slot and played the record, as the Bible story was told, the film strip slid down and showed the pictures on a t.v. screen. She wanted it so badly so she used the money the church had given her to buy it. As she made the purchase, the pastor of the church gave her a disapproving look. (Sometimes when people give charity, it's yours as long as you use it as they wish.) She felt so small, but she never regretted getting it. We learned many Bible stories from watching it. Anyway the humbling times are not ever going to be remembered fondly, I suppose. So those Georgia years meant hardship and shame for my parents but for me, those were my good times.
We picked in others' gardens. The deal was always the same, whatever we picked, we kept half and gave them the other half as payment for letting us pick in their fields. I don't ever remember enjoying the picking back then, but whenever I get to now there is a strange peace and pleasure that combine to soothe negative feelings. Memories are tricky, the really bad ones can sometimes be dominant, drowning out the existence of the good. But when one experiences something again, that deja vu moment can stir up the memories so the good that was buried deep now resurfaces. That happens in a pea field for me. I could pick peas for days and never tire just to get that.
My favorite recent pea picking memory was when my mom, sister, and I went back to Georgia one year and brought my grandma to this massive pea farm. There were acres and acres of peas. My sister does not find anything appealing about farming or country life so watching her in a pea field again was funny. We knew she didn't like it, but she kept on until finally she stood tall in that pea field and starting singing loudly the country song "She thinks my tractor's sexy..." She and I both share the same childhood memories...maybe a little nostalgia hit her in that moment too, a little "chicken soup for the pea pickers soul".
James 1:17--"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above..."
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