Musings for my Mama

I have this vision of my mom sometimes. I was around 12, we are at our old grey house, outside, by my  very own apple tree. The apples off that tree were cotton-candy pink on inside, but tasted tart like a granny smith. I loved that tree. Mom was in the sun, and we were all outside and she said, "Guys, let's have a picnic outside!" And so we did. We brought out sandwiches made with homemade whole bread and picked apples from our trees and sat and laughed. 

She's like that. Pretty flexible, most of the time, with some sort of loose plan in place.
I remember being upset about some friend issues I was struggling with at the time and I had a hard time talking about it. I was caught between childhood and the angst of teenage life.  Sitting with my mom and siblings, belly-laughing and listening to Mr. Popper's Penguins was exactly what I needed. My mom has such a calm presence about her; peace overflowing out of her and shining out of her eyes. It always has. You could be having the worst day and just sitting with her would calm you. I wish I could go to back to 12 year old me. I would shake her, gently of course, and say, This lady right here? She is the real gem. You don't sweat those other friendships as much. She will be your friend for life. 
I would also say, Stop trying to grow up so fast. Sit there outside in your yard, listen to your mom read, cuddle your baby sister and soak it in. Teenage drama will be there waiting for you, don't worry. 
She was sitting in the sun that day, reading that book to us, and she looked so beautiful. It was that inner beauty Proverbs talks about it. It was overflowing out of her.
God's faithfulness to me in giving me her brings me to tears. I wish I was more like her. She is slow to anger. Seeks truth from God's Word. Full of wisdom. Overflowing with love.
I often say too much and and think later. I did then, and I do now.
I credit my mom with so much of my childhood. It was a good one. A happy one. Filled with life and laughter and joy. Full to the brim with structure and hard work, too.
Lunches were a memorable part of our homeschool days. I feel so privileged to have spent so much time around the kitchen table. We weren't rushed. We were mostly home, eating spaghettios, top ramen or bean with bacon soup. We got really into juicing at one point and made carrot-apple-orange juice often. Memories of those days were slow, like honey from the bottom of the bottle. A little old, a little sticky but oh so sweet. As I got older, the less interested I became in those lunches. Oh, to go back now, you silly girl, who wants to grow up too soon.
You know what I don't remember?  Her being stressed out. Oh, I remember moments of when she would be hiding in her bedroom, in tears. I get that, now. Completely. But as a general rule, she was filled with peace. Not a lot ruffled her feathers. I'm sure it was loud and crazy and messy. I'm sure she felt like she was constantly doing dishes or picking up dirty socks or cleaning smudged fingerprints.
What I do remember is that she always sat down with us at lunch. I didn't realize until I became a mom how important that is. I am often guilty of feeding my kids and then rushing around like a crazy person trying to get all the things done in the 20 minutes they are sitting down. My mom didn't do that. She was pretty much always sitting with us, either teaching us bible memory verses or reading us a book. It made mealtimes especially peaceful.
I like to think I have a unique perspective on my mom because I was the first. The first to be potty trained, homeschooled, learned to ride bike, navigate friendships, buying makeup, shopping, all of the things. I like to think we grew up together, in some ways. We were both experiencing firsts, me as the literal guinea-pig kid and her as a first-time mom. I was always so stubborn. I would fight to the death on something I felt was worth fighting for. You know I so appreciate about my mom? She didn't try to squash that out of me. Instead, she tried to gently re-direct it. It (sometimes) worked.
 I will never forget when I realized she was just a human being with emotions like me and not just a mom. It was when I made her cry over something rude I said and it made me feel awful. I knew then, I took it too far. I'm pretty sure it had to do with Saxon Math. And like my mom's MO is, she sweetly and tenderly forgave me, and we moved on. "Love doesn't keep a record of wrongs" - she emodies that verse from 1 Corinthians. 

She always told me I was born to be a teacher. I remember emphatically telling her no. Look how that worked out. She was right. She always encouraged my writing and would read anything I wrote. She still will.  She took me to the library and let me check out stacks and I do mean stacks of books each week. I remember living away from home during college, dealing with some heartbreak, and calling her and catching my breath when I heard her voice. There it was. Peace. Full circle.

You're the best and I hope you know it. You are because you've let Jesus completely transform your life into a picture of peace. You are centered because you look to God first, and that has left an indelible mark on me. You don't always claim to have the answers, but you always lend a listening ear and you will pray for me. I'm sorry for shutting you out during my teenage years sometimes. You were so patient with me. My prayer is to have half the amount of patience you had and continue to have with me, with my own precious children. 

Mama, this is for you. I love you. 

Social Distancing + Loving Your Neighbor: How To Do Both

This is a weird time, isn't it? I'm laughing because my next blog post was going to be about hospitality and how our house is an ever-revolving door of people, and how do I make that work in my life & love like Jesus without going crazy or having zero structure.
Irony is a funny thing.
COVID-19 has ground face-to-face hospitality and those "hey, come on over's" to a screeching halt. And some of the time, I really don't like it. I'm being brutally honest here, but I don't want to stay home all of the time, shut my doors and not see people. I don't want to talk to my friend six feet apart on our walk. I don't want to keep my kids away from their cousins and sweet friends. I have moments lately where I feel like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
I don't want to, I don't want to!
I fully recognize that this is not a healthy or biblical response. I understand that it is extremely selfish for me to be upset because I can't have my friends over for a housewarming party when there is a very real pandemic threatening the health and lives of many, many people.
To be clear, I don't feel like that all the time. I also love being home during this season. I love the opportunity to slow down and really breathe in this beautiful life God has given me.
But, I love showing hospitality. It thrills me to the core of my soul. It's part of how God made me, and I don't want to change that.
What can I do now to love my neighbor well?
The pandemic of COVID-19 does not mean God has changed. He remains the same, now and forever.  (Hebrews 13:8) What He asks of His children has not changed. He still cares deeply about me and those around me. He still asks me to love others consistently & self-sacrificially in a meaningful way. Jesus says in Matthew 25:40 that whatever we do for the least of people, we do it for Him. Talk about the ultimate motivator. The same God that takes care of the sparrows (Matthew 6:26) takes care of me and asks me to extend that love and care to others.

Here are some ways God is challenging me to extend hospitality in this pandemic.

1. Pray it!
Pick three or four people (it can be more, of course, but start with a few so you can pray for them well) you want to intentionally pray for this week, ask them how you can pray for them specifically, and then start praying. When you tell someone you are going to pray for them, stop and actually do it. Write it down. Put it on a post-it note on your bathroom mirror or your kitchen cabinet by your coffee pot. Use a prayer journal and write it down. Add to it.
Don't necessarily offer advice (unless the situation warrants itself), just pray for them. And then ask them about it. Love them and love them well.  Pray for our country, our leaders, our medical professionals, the world, and most importantly for hearts to come to know the one True God. Pray scripture over that person and then send that person the scripture. Do a  ZOOM prayer group each week. Fast and pray "with" your friends for a day.
Mamas, include your kids when you pray out loud. Model intercessory prayer for them. Don't only pray by yourself in the morning quiet of in your room (although that is necessary for your sanity, too!)
Praying together is something God asks us to do and is definitely something that is lacking right now. I feel this one very personally. I miss that sense of community. Even though we can't be "together", fill that void, as best you can!

2. Create it! 
Plant a pretty flower for a friend and drop it off on her porch with her favorite box of tea. Make cookies for your neighbors and their kids who are going a little stir crazy. Better yet, make cookie dough and give it to them to make cookies as a family together. Have your kids make a chalk drawing of a map for their neighbor friends leading to some bubbles you left for them. Send a letter to someone living by themselves. Make a care package of sanitizer, wet wipes and pre-packaged energy bars/whatever else for your UPS driver/USPS mailman/woman/FedEx driver/random OnTrac (slightly sketchy) vehicle. Start a pen pal relationship with someone you haven't talked to a while. Help your kids do this, too!

3. Do it! 
Pick up groceries or have them delivered for an immune-compromised friend. Send an Amazon package of art supplies to the mom who feels like she's drowning in children without a life preserver. Offer to mow your neighbor's yard who finds the task a little overwhelming. Order a bible or an encouraging book for that person in your life who needs it. Plan a ZOOM chat with some of your friends once a week. If you can sing, record a video of you singing a song that's been encouraging to you lately. Send it to someone who could use some reminder's of God's truth in song. If you can't sing, send a video of someone who can. Do a workout virtually with some friends, and with the people in your household! Encourage your friends to watch your live-streaming church service "with" you and ask them their thoughts on it.

None of this is meant to replace face-to-face hospitality or a home-cooked meal over dinner with beloved faces. If anything, this should make us yearn for home - our real home - even more. Heaven. I've been pondering Heaven quite a bit recently. No separation. No sickness. No social distancing.
We did a ZOOM chat with my daughter's BSF school age group and afterwards she said, "Mom, remember the days when we did real BSF? Before the sickness?"
 I smiled and said, "Oh yes, I do. But it hasn't been that long."
She sighed and said, "It feels like forever!"
It does feels like forever.  COVID-19. Social distancing. Forever. Hopefully, it won't be, but we, as heirs to heaven, are promised more. So much more. If there is anything this pandemic has solidified for me, it's that this world is not my home. I was bought with a price. Paid for by Jesus' death, burial and resurrection. Eternity is set in my heart (Ecclesiastes 3:11) and I am headed there sooner or later.
I don't know where this world is headed. I don't know if this is "the end" or not. But God knows. And He is faithful and so, so worthy to be trusted. That I do know. I do know that He promises He will return for His children, someday.  (1 Thessalonians 4:16-18)
We are all unsure of what the future holds and it is a little scary. But the God who was on the throne before COVID-19 is the same God who reigns today. He is not surprised by anything that is happening in our world. He is allowing it for reasons we may not know this side of heaven.
So, in the meantime, in this not-yet time where most people are stuck at home,  I encourage you to love others well. Maybe that means loving someone who you typically otherwise would avoid. Pray for that person! God will change your heart if you let Him. Good news, you don't have to stay and chat (you actually shouldn't!) Just wash your hands, drop some banana bread and flowers on their porch with a note that says, I'm thinking about you. I'm praying for you. I'm here (although not literally).  Then go home and wash your hands again. And pray for them, again.
Maybe this means you send your friend three states away a Marco Polo video or a long text. Maybe that just means a good old-fashioned phone call. We are so fortunate these days to have a myriad of communication options.
This doesn't mean this is a one-size-fits-all. God didn't call of us to love the same people, or same amount of people, in the same way. That's the beauty of the church. If we all do our part, we can make a big difference. Extroverts and introverts unite! God made us all.
And He asks us all to love each other in a real way, regardless of whether we want be around 25 people or two, or none.
So ask God, who do You have for me to love right now? How can I show hospitality in the best way? How can I point people to You and love people authentically and practically? 
Let's love each other well, because Jesus loves us so much better.
"May the Lord direct your hearts to the love of God and to the steadfastness of Christ."
 2 Thessalonians 3:5

Little Snow Boots

It snowed today. Just a light dusting, nothing to shout about, at least for those of us who are more “mature” and "experienced."  I say that in irony because I learn from my kids every day, if I'm humble enough to heed the lesson. My children on the other hand, were over the moon. It might has well have been five feet of snow; they were so ecstatic. They couldn’t shovel their oatmeal faster, talking over each other, with chimes of, “Please mom can we go outside!” 

Even my two year old joined in on the chatter. “Mama, no! (snow)”  jabbing her chubby baby fingers at the window. She gets it, too. 

I was just about to say, “It’s really not that great of a snow, guys,” when I stopped to see the sparkle in my four year old’s eye. 

“Mom, this snow is awesome!” 

 Rilla, my almost seven year old, chimes in, “Yeah, it’s so BEAUTIFUL, mom!” 

I inwardly shrugged. Who am I to be a fun-killer? They would find out soon enough it wasn’t really that great. Not in comparison to other years, in my mind. 
Well, was I ever wrong. They played in the magic of that early morning quiet snow, making up games, giggling til their little bellies hurt, and never once complained there wasn't more snow. Later in the day, they begged to go outside again. It started snowing again, but it was that wet rain/snow this time and they did not utter one word about the wet or the cold; they played some game Rilla made up called "snow fire" (makes total sense). 
The two year old waddled in on the fun in her adorable Ralphie-like suit and ate snow and licked the snowflakes and stop and stared up at the white sky. 

"No! No!" (Snow, snow!)

They were so deeply grateful for that half-inch of snow. 

I heard deep within my heart, Soak this in. Remember these precious little souls are on loan to you, and they are MINE first. Seal that deep within your heart.

I knew it was God; I visibly shuddered and immediately prayed, Lord, give me a moment to let this seep in.

And He did. I sat there, in the chair by the window, watching my three beautiful, precious, feisty, individual little humans laugh and play and throw snow at each other, and I was filled with supernatural thankfulness. That thankfulness was a gift, given to me by God Almighty. It warmed my soul. 

I finally convinced my three precious babies to come inside when the fingertips of light were stretched thinly across the sky. Their cheeks and noses were bright Rudolph red and their skin smelled incredible, like outside; cold and fresh. It took probably five solid minutes to peel them out of their wet layers, and I set their snow boots on a towel to dry and walked away, onto the next thing. After all, dinner needed to be cooked and the laundry needed to be switched and Anni was already tearing apart Levi’s duplo blocks and he was almost in tears. And so it goes. 

Suddenly, I heard His voice again. Clear as day. Look at those boots.
I obeyed quickly this time. 
I whipped around and stared at those little wet snow boots. 

You know those moments where you know God has been trying to hammer a lesson home deep within your heart? And most of the time you’re too busy or distracted to notice? 

Well, I got it this time. I'm far from perfect but I am learning to stay in those moments a little more. I think it's vitally important to my growth as a Christian, and, secondarily, growth as a wife and mom and friend and all of the things.

And I sat in that moment as my now half-thawed out frozen popsicle children played happily in the living room (“baby bird” is their new current favorite game where Rilla is the mama bird and they build a “nest” with pillows, Levi is the obedient baby bird and Anni is the rogue rebellious other baby bird who mostly destroys their “nest” and climbs over Levi like a human jungle gym.) 

I know it was not an accident they were playing so well. I know that was God’s providential hand of grace upon me. I know that in the depths of my heart. He gave me this moment to ponder. To dwell on His goodness in the mundane details of my crazy current child-raising season.
These children are on loan to me. I am not promised tomorrow. They are not promised tomorrow, either. BUT, I have an anchor. 
“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” 
Hebrews 6:19
An eternity set in my heart. A promise of a righted future, someday. Not in this life, but the next. Just like the Jews, wandering around in the desert waiting for the promised land. We are wanderers, sojourners, yearning for a foreign land where all is right. Heaven is such a beautiful promise and it fills my soul with hope. 
I’m going to get real honest and raw up in here. My biggest fear is having to bury one of my babies. It shakes me to the core and sometimes I think about it at night and it drives fear right into the depths of my soul. I don’t know if God will ask me to give up one more of my precious children. I already gave Him back one precious tiny baby, 13 weeks young, that was also on loan to me. That left deep scars in my soul as a young 23 year old. Scars that will never leave. We grow through tragedy, but we never forget. And part of that scar is supposed to be a remembrance. A memorial. That babe was too precious to forget. I never want to. Time has lessened the sharp pain, but I remember. And I'm so glad I do. 
It reminds me of the preciousness of life.
The thought of giving another one back is not something I want to think about, and is not even something I think we should dwell on, for that is living in fear. 

But, my children cannot be my idols. They cannot be the apple of my eye. They are a gift, on loan to me from the Greatest Giver, and I am so eternally grateful they are mine, for this moment, for this flurry-filled day with half an inch of snow, lukewarm cocoa cups held by tiny hands and wet kid-sized snow boots dripping melted snow all over my floor. 

But I can’t miss the bigger picture.
It’s about more than living in the moment, or even appreciating those silly snow boots, which I do believe is a vitally important lesson in itself. What God is driving home in my soul is  this probing question: What is pushing out thankfulness and full surrender to God? For me, every good gift I’ve been given - and yes, every hard thing I’ve encountered - is a chance for me to respond to God’s provision for me. It’s a chance for me to worship Him. It doesn't mean it will be easy and that it won't hurt, even deep wounds, at times. It gives a greater meaning to these precious gifts that God has given me. It’s more than just about those little souls, as important to me as they are. It’s a stark reminder that this world, this life  isn’t going to last forever. Let that thought sink in for a minute. 
Do you believe that? Do you recognize that your life, your children’s lives, your family and friends lives, will come to an end one day? Are you ready for what comes next? Even if you don’t believe there is an after-life, respectfully I would say - what have you got to lose? Ask God to reveal Himself to you. He promises in His Word that He will. 

For me, the comparison game is a thief of thankfulness. Just like I can’t compare this snow to the last year’s epic snow, so comparison steals our gratitude. It robs us of our heart of thankfulness. Thankfulness should overflow out of my soul and right out of my mouth. It should spill out, every day. Yes, it pleases God when we glorify Him. But it’s also for our good. We were made to worship; made to overflow with thankfulness to the one True Creator God who made the heavens and the earth and ordains when it will snow two feet and when it will snow two inches. And we praise Him, either way. 
I do not follow God because I have some sort of deal with Him - if I worship Him and surrender my life to Him that my life will turn out a certain way or I won’t have struggles or heartache. He is the God of the deep, dark valleys and the beautiful breathtaking mountaintop views. It has to be both. And He is worthy to be praised. God, prepare my heart, but take away my fear. Fill my soul with hope instead. Help me to anchor my soul in Your Word, which is Truth & Grace. And how we need truth & grace in this world.
He is worthy to be praised. I yearn to look through the lens of thankfulness, and stop for that small still voice that you know is God, and take that lesson, let it sink deep into my soul, and in the future, every time I see little snow boots, to remember. 

“Bless the LORD, oh my soul, and all that is within me, bless His Holy Name! Bless the LORD, oh my soul and forget not all His Benefits.” 

Psalm 103:1-2