What is my objective?

This may seem elementary; most everything does after the "light bulb" moment.

But THIS, my friends, seems too easy-- like everyone probably already knows about this incredible mind shift except for me.

So, your welcome, for the reminder-- and maybe the giggle at my expense.

It's late. Bedtime has taken much longer than I expected once again. Every day, I say that we will start bedtime a half hour earlier to make room for the silliness, stalling and inevitable poop that needs to happen as soon as she is covered up. It never happens. We always start too late and so there I am, standing there, stressed, irritated, TIRED.

 I feel like Dr. Leo Martin vs. Bob Wiley. 

Holy smokes. YES. That's exactly how I feel at the end of the day.

 It's just too much. And I hate it. I despise myself in that moment. I have these out of body experiences where I hear what I am saying and see the tension in me and I feel so sad (and pretty pathetic too).

I just want to shake myself!

But in that gross, disgusting moment, when I was watching myself, THAT'S when it hit me. 

Thanks to my Bachelors of Fine Arts... (finally)

 I was watching the scene and I felt the tug. The gentle question -- as my teachers in school asked me so often: 

What's your objective?

BED. Bed is my objective. Cover her up-- no wait, give her a sip of water so that she doesn't get uncovered to get a sip of water. Give her a sip of water, cover her up, move her hair our of her face, give her a kiss and GET THE F OUT! That's my objective! 

Right then, I became present. She was laying down now. She was asking me if I could pray for her-- she was asking me to tell her about what we would do the next day and wanting to help make a plan for the morning. She just wanted to play-- and interact and talk-- and me? 

Moments before, I could hardly keep my head from exploding. 

Instead of standing over her, holding her blanket, forcing myself to breathe deeply, I knelt down and  I asked myself again: What's my objective?  

Connect. My objective has to be to connect. 

My posture seemed to relax and in turn, so did hers. My voice became soothing instead of sharp and threatening-- she became quieter. We discussed some concerns of the night-- feeling hot/cold, needing a bandaid etc. and we smiled about what tomorrow would bring.

I still wanted her in bed (desperately) but when I focused on engaging her, my crazy little beauty, I didn't feel pathetic anymore-- or sad. I felt strong and capable of being the mom I know I can be. 

When I stop with my external objectives and put the focus on the relationships around me-- the atmosphere actually changes.

Harmony happens. Peace. Unforced rhythms of grace.

And bedtime becomes a heck of a lot easier! 

Get me off this thing called... Love

Ha! Sorry, I had to do it.
"So, I Married An Axe Murderer" is one of my all time favorite movies and I just couldn't resist entitling this blog post with a quote from that movie.

I just wish somehow I could add in the little hand gesture. Make sure you do it every time you read the title to this blog post.

Ready? Let's try it together.

"Get me off this thing called....(hand gesture) Love."

(And if you have no idea what the heck I am talking about, do yourself a favor and get that movie!)

So this thing... love. The basis of all relationships and interactions. The one (pure, true) thing that keeps us connected...

 is so dang hard to figure out.

I've been silent for awhile because the ONE thing that keeps popping in my head to blog about is the one thing that confuses me the most. And it's the thing that keeps us going.

It's vital.

Love connects partners. It connects families, friends, siblings... it connects us to movements, to passions, to missions... we see it in nature, in our pets... it is what moves us closer to our Creator.

It is what our Creator IS.

The absence of love brings turmoil, anger, hate, disconnect, confusion. Dark.

But, let's define love for a moment... because I'm not talking about Valentine's day, people!

What I am talking about is respect.

I am talking about a love that works for the greater good of humanity. A love that sees all people, all beings, all the world in the light of the Kingdom: as it should be. I am talking about freedom, choice... about valuing the needs of others around us in the same way we value our own.

Here's an idea, scroll through Facebook for a second, you'll find many people highlighting the need for choice, for freedom, for respect. Many people are raising funds for wonderful causes, advertising their passions and gushing over some of the small glimpses of "hope in humanity."

Love is much bigger than just my marriage, your marriage. It's bigger than just the way we choose to raise our children, the way we cultivate our relationships with our parents and siblings.

But is it?

We all seem to have a deep "want" to see humans live in harmony with each other but our marriages are falling apart. Christians all seem to want the love of Jesus to be spread far and wide, but do their children feel it? We want to accomplish great things, but have we accomplished the seemingly small things?

As I trip and fall and trip and fall down this parenting path, the one thing that remains true is that change starts with me. But not just me, me and them. Me and you.

Did I love them well? Have I loved you well?

That needs to be my question after an argument with my husband, after my daughter takes a crayon to the wall, after I get home from an interview and after a phone call from my brother.

Did I love them well?

No wait, did THEY feel that I loved them well?

THAT'S the thing folks. We can't gauge our own love goodness! 

I guess that's what I have been trying to do forever now. Let me explain.

So, there are these 5 love languages. They are outlined in some popular book. You can even take a test to see what your top two are.

Bah! Love languages!

If you are anything like me, you think this love language stuff is downright discouraging. You immediately think about how you and your husband have completely different love languages and how it's is a daily struggle, I mean, task, ahem, privilege, to learn the ways each other needs to be loved to bring the relationship to new and deeper heights with every successful, loving and selfless interaction.

Honestly, that love language book... makes me gag.

I don't know, I get it, I just don't know if I buy into it... completely anyway. Shouldn't adults be able to show love and receive love in all different ways? Isn't love some sort of universal language? 

Why, then, when I write sweet notes in a journal for my husband he hardly ever writes back?!

Love letters are love letters, surely he can feel the love through them!

Yet, he complains when hugs are cut short, or a busy family day passes by and he doesn't feel as if we've had quality time. Didn't we just spend the whole freaking day together?!

Obviously, I am missing something.

And per usual God speaks to me through my children.

I've noticed in the past, our daughter physically cringing when people (ourselves included) ask for kisses. God forbid, someone try to give her one! She will spit on her hand and wipe it off in one seemingly rude swipe.

This kills her dad. He loves to "smooch her face" and incessantly asks for kisses.

I, on the other hand, totally get it. The only difference is, I wait until people aren't looking before I wipe off the lingering spit and feeling.

At first, I was horrified. Kids learn by example right?! I've tried so hard to suck it up and not let my kids see how uncomfortable I get when people are physically affectionate towards me and I most certainly try never to avoid a kiss from their dad even if he has fallen short (like I never do!) in some spouse-ly duty.

So I just couldn't figure out HOW Judah learned to not like kisses then? 

She not only refuses offers, but she wipes off blind sides too!

Then I realized something: Judah may not like to be hugged, or kissed, and her idea of snuggling is laying next to someone with absolutely no touching involved at all, but she tells us she loves us 1200 times a day. She encourages us when she sees that we are struggling and she compliments our hard work. She thanks us for dinners cooked, outings, help... anything!

While out to lunch one day with her grandparents, one who is particularly affectionate (even though it is usually not reciprocated), said to her "Judah, I saw the painting that you are working on and I think it's beautiful! You have done some great work!"

Do you know what she did? That little stinker! She turned around and gave the biggest kiss ever! 

She felt love, so she returned the love. 

And kids, man, there's so much to learn from them... she didn't return the love with a thank you or another compliment or encouraging word. She didn't return the love with a gift of some sort. She met that person in a way that THEY would feel loved. 

She KISSED them. The very thing that she detests! 

THAT'S a relationship -- becoming in tune with the people around us--the needs of the people around us. We can work and work and work until the cows come home (is that a thing?) on bettering ourselves and becoming the person that WE want to be but until we can become the person that THEY need us to be our relationships can not fully bloom, our relationships can't be the examples that we hope they would be.

That this world desperately needs them to be. 

So yeah, change starts with me. But it starts with me, thinking about you. 

Dang right, you must get that from your mother! Part two.

Finally!! A minute to sit and get the second part of this enormous lesson out of my head.

It's becoming more and more clear to me that we become parents not only to, and maybe I will even dare to say, NOT to parent new humans, but to explore and learn and be guided in a whole new side of ourselves that God put in us for HIS purposes.

It (being life, everything in life) is always about our relationship with him. Always. It never isn't.

And yes, of course, to achieve all of the goodness God has on this parenting journey, we must in fact be PARENTS, but ultimately we are ALL His children. He has us. He has them.

We are just standing in--

and in my little opinion, it's not because he needs us to. It's because we need us to.

Mind. Blown.

I think about my dear Simon boy a lot. I love him. I take care of him. I can tell you his schedule, I can sort of tell you his likes, I can definitely tell you his dislikes-- and I can tell you most of this in the context of Judah-- his big sister. Naturally, he is the stereotypical second child. I have in fact, not only forgotten his name, but I have forgotten he exists.

For instance, Simon likes when Judah jumps up and down. Simon doesn't like Judah to take toys from him. Meal times are mostly about screaming for food because I am not only focused on feeding him but also feeding his sister. These said screaming sessions, lead me to believe that he really likes to eat... so forth and so on. I learn about him, mostly because of his interactions with his big sister.

and this isn't bad, it is what it is.

 He was born into a family with a sister who likes to manage, likes to talk, a lot, likes to oversee and organize-- He will be the person he was destined to be largely because of the circumstances he was born into. Hence why many first borns, second borns etc. are predictable in many ways.

 Anyway, Simon was in his 10th month of life and really didn't have any words at all.

 NOW before anyone starts thinking that I am expecting too much, or thinking that I think he should be more like his sister-- that's not what this is about. I am the SPOKESPERSON for kids developing on their own timelines-- and not forcing anything on them.
I wasn't concerned about his speech or development.

I was concerned for my sanity.

I couldn't take the screaming and yelling for what he needed (specifically at meal times) anymore. My head was about to explode.

I remember the day. Just looking up to the heavens. Oh dear LORD, why won't this kid just TALK?!

And I remember so clearly the answer.

"You talk about him. You talk around him. How often do you talk to him?"

GULP.

That was it. I sat down. I looked at him. "Simon, it seems like you need something. Can I get you some more?"

This seems elementary. I know. It is!

But when you have 8,576,000 things to do and think about at one time and then a preschooler QUESTIONING your every move--- you don't take much time to talk to the screamer! You hear the scream and you do whatever has to be done to MAKE IT STOP.

Two days later he was asking for more. Praise you sweet Jesus. Seriously.

This got me thinking. God wanted me to focus on Simon. To build an intentional connection with him- an intentional relationship.

Through this seemingly small change, Simon was able to move into his full potential at the moment.

Relationship matters.

What would happen if we focused our energy for just one day, even, on being super intentional in our love and communication with the people around us? Would they, in turn, move into their full potential? Would we all feel more alive?

What would happen if we stopped talking about God-- but made a significant effort to speak with him. What would happen if we actually made our relationship with Jesus, a relationship that we pursued with focus, discipline and intention?

I bet there would be a change. I bet we would hear him. I bet prayers wouldn't seem so distant. We would know Him, and I bet His realness to us-- would be the light that we need to shine in darkness.

I hope that I can continue to pursue intentional relationships in my life. I hope my children see that,
and I hope that I hear one day I hear someone say to them, "You must get that from your mother!"

Update: Dang right, you must get that from your mother! Part One.

I just have so much to get out in this tiny blog post.

These lessons, these thoughts and ideas... they dance around in my head taking up precious space. I make lists so I don't forget, but it doesn't matter. The dance doesn't end until I get them OUT. So this blog... this is for me, mostly. I share because it's nice to know I'm not alone. And if I think that, than you probably think it's nice to know YOU aren't alone. So I'm sharing.

But mostly... I just need to get it out.

Today there is just too much. Too much to get out in the minute amount of time between my eyes holding themselves open and my eyes giving up the fight. So this post will probably continue on, for one, maybe two, more times. Bear with me. I hope it all comes together.

I'll start with an update. Awhile ago when I wrote this post, I was feeling like a major failure as a mom. I was feeling like a fanatical, crazy, looney person. It was one of those moments when I couldn't have been more grateful that Mary lost Jesus.

I felt like my kids were turning out terribly. I felt like they were learning awful habits and inheriting crazy mindsets and obsessive behaviors from me. ME! The one who was supposed to be their example.

The one who they spend 99% of their time with was losing her mind.

Well, I just have to update here. So that I know that at some point in my life I was capable of change. I was capable of seeing a mistake and changing it-- even if it's not consistent, even if it doesn't last forever. I am still malleable and teachable. And that's what matters right? No one is perfect, but if God can change us, if He can move us, then theres HOPE.

Phew.

Since that blog post, my floor is crumby, and sticky. There's clutter around-- and I do freak out. I do feel my heart beat a bit faster, but not nearly as much. I have made it a point to spend more time with music on. I have made it a point to pray out loud more, to worship out loud more. I have made it a point to be silly and to use my imagination. I have even made it a point to spend more time outside.

This is what I hear from J now:

"Mom, we forgot to pray! Can you pray for us?"
or
"I think I'll pray by myself tonight."

(She even found her own little spot on the night stand where she talks to God in the sweetest little whisper, and thanks Him for nearly everything imaginable).

I hardly ever hear "It's a mess in here!" Instead I hear randomly throughout the day...
"Mom, I just love you."
"Simon, buddy, I love you."
"Hey Dad? I love you."

ALL. THE. TIME.

The other day after we visited a friend, J and I decided to pick up dinner for everyone back at home. I pulled into a parking spot in the Chipotle plaza, J yells out, "Mom! You did it! You made it to Chipotle! Great job!"

And she thanks us frequently for the smallest things.

She is developing the most thankful, kind, loving and encouraging heart.

My eyes well up and my throat gets lumpy, but not for the same reasons as before.

I see it. I see Him moving. As He changes and molds me into the full expression of who I was created to be-- she is released to be who He has created her to be too.

Wow.

Taking a step back and realizing where we are broken, realizing where we are in need of a grace-filled God is not only necessary for our personal development and well-being, it's necessary for our kid's as well.

This parenting thing-- this is NOT what I signed up for. It's kind of better ;)

Learn your baby

*** Disclaimer: The first half of this post is dripping with exaggeration and sarcasm. I know my husband will read this and say "welllllll, that's not entirely true." I'm going to extremes to make a point. Just keep reading!

It's becoming pretty clear to me, and probably to you, if you have been following this blog, that I struggle with control issues. I even considered renaming this blog to "control freaks anonymous" but I discovered something like this already exists. So then I considered joining the group. Kidding. Sort of.

You can imagine what happens when a struggling freak has a second baby. First baby slept so well, did everything so well... so second baby will too, if treated in the same. exact. way.

Let's just all take a minute and LOL over that one.

Well, that was me. Our first was a delightful little peach. Our lives didn't change much at all in the beginning. We took her everywhere and she just willingly and happily hung out. She was the definition of a baby who CHILLED. She LOVED a schedule. She loved consistency. So she was the PERFECT baby for me. She fit so well into my little controlled atmosphere.

People would comment. I would smile. Life was sweet.

Other people would have babies and they would ask "What did you do???" I would tell them of my "perfect" little routine that worked so well for us, and encouraged them (because OF COURSE it was the way we swaddled her, the way we sang to her, the way we fed her and napped her and bathed her....) that our way would work for them too!

But it didn't always.

Then I would hear the common excuse of "every baby is different." You've heard it too, right? I would smile and nod, secretly thinking... "no... every baby is the same, you just aren't doing this parenting thing RIGHT."

If you want,  please take another moment and LOL.

Then I had a second baby.

Although, we lived in a different apartment, I set it up the exact same way. Bassinet by the bed, nap nanny on the kitchen floor, burp cloths strategically placed around the house. I made sure the oldest was potty trained and binky free. (Only need to deal with ONE baby at a time, people!!) There were locks on the refrigerator, the bathroom door, and the closets, so that when I couldn't see the oldest I would know she was safe. She had a basket of special toys for when the baby had to nurse and everything was going to be JUST WONDERFUL.

Do it again. LOLOLOLOLOLOL!!!!

Holy MOTHER! WHY DIDN'T THE SECOND BABY WANT HIS BINKY?!

Why did he want to nurse ALL the time?!

As I stood by his bassinet, with him swaddled the "right"  way, rocking him the "right"way so that he would get just sleepy enough to put down but not totally asleep, singing the SAME song I would sing to the first kid every time she would nap, and forcefully shoving the binky into his mouth.

I heard the whisper.

It said "Learn your baby."

WHAT?

"Learn your baby."

Oh. Damn.

What now?

I stopped rocking him. I held him. I let him sleep in my arms (just this ONE time, of course!). I took a big deep breath and let those words wash over me.

It was so easy to forget that this little baby was a special unique human being who had a special and unique personality.

There was no time to spend in babyland with a 2 year old toddler bouncing around. He was forgotten about all. the. time.

I actually remember being at a party when he was about 3 months old when someone asked me what my son's name was. I stared at them for a long time until they (finally) said "Is it Simon?"

I had COMPLETELY forgotten I had a son!!

It was time to take a step back and make a plan with God. Slow down, and figure out this baby. Slow down and love the beautifulness that he brought to the table.

In doing this, I have learned SO much about each of my children. Because of their differences I get to know them better. Because of their differences I am expanding my parenting abilities. Because of their differences I am

giving up control.

God is able to mold me and shape me more into the person He created me to be.

I get to spend time with God journaling and brainstorming how to raise each child. (see picture above from my last session)

It's not the same. Our parenting is always based on some of the same principles such as respect, love and boundaries; but these look different for each of them.

This makes me think of how many children God has. We are all different, but sometimes we expect Him to treat us all the same. Or even worse... we judge others because of how they feel God is dealing with them.

EEEEK.

God is BIG. We are intricate. He made us and He knows how to care for each of us.

It doesn't look the same.

I wonder how much more unified the church may look, if we could grasp this.

How much more love would be flying around??

Thanks God, thankful for this lesson. Rip the control, rip the RELIGION right out of me. I'm ready.

Are you?

You must get that from your mother

There are crumbs covering the kitchen counter. There are smushed blueberries all over the kitchen floor. The coffee table that I am resting my feet on is covered with keys, a jean jacket, books, a pretend baking pan, a water bottle, crocs, a paper towel with Chipotle chip crumbs on it, a journal, a shirt, a pair of feet pajamas, wipes, six tea-party cups, two bibs, a remote control, a sheet of stickers and a baby ergo.

It's a mess in here. 

That's not to mention the couch that I made room to sit on. 

I can only BEGIN to tell you how much this mess makes my head spin. It's constant. All. The. Time. It's no matter how many times I put things away, they come back. Everyone hears about it. The kids, the cats, my friends, my mommy acquaintances, and my husband. 

This mess has it's own blog post for goodness sakes! 

The mess stresses me out and poisons every part of my life. When the house is messy I feel distracted. I feel dirty, I feel busy, I feel like I can't sit and enjoy, well, anything. I'm constantly moving. Constantly telling the kids "in a minute, let me just clean up..."  and constantly pushing my husband away so I can wipe a countertop or clean a dish. I can hardly focus on writing this post because the coffee table looks the way it does! 

Clutter has hijacked my life. 

Lately, Ive been hearing things like this out of my almost three year-old's mouth: 

"It's a mess in here!" 

"Mom, can you fix my bed, it's a mess!"

"Let me just wipe my baby's face, it's a mess!" 

I'm remembering how impressionable children are. For better... or worse. 

My eyes well up a bit, my throat gets lumpy. 

Lately, I've also been hearing things like this: 

Me: "Let's thank God for our meal, do you want to pray?"

J: "No."

"Stop praying mom."

"I don't want to pray, you pray." 

Or,

Me: "Did Jesus say anything to you?"

J: "No, he was sleeping."

What kind of example am I setting for my children? Am I who I want them to be? 

Why do I pray and worship when they can't see but fret and worry when they can? 

Will I be proud when someone says "You must get that from your mother..."?

I look again at the coffee table. The kitchen counter. There are muffin crumbs because we had a breakfast treat this morning. There are keys because we went outside today. There are books because we love to read and visit the library. There are crocs because I found the perfect orange crocs on sale today that I know J will just love! There is a paper towel with chip crumbs because we shared a snack together. There is a a tea party set and baking pans because my daughter loves to use her imagination! The list could go on. 

A friend mentioned to me today that perspective is key. That choosing joy is necessary. 

I am going to do that. No matter what the control freak, type A in me says, I am going to do that.

And when the kids wake up, I am going to turn up the music and let them see me worship-- even if I'm standing on blueberries and muffin crumbs!

Rain Rain Go Away

I'm sitting on her bed, just waiting- riding out the latest stall tactic- desperately just wanting the lights OUT. My husband stands by her in the other room- glazed over- just staring nowhere special, I'm sure feeling the same way as me.

She cares nothing of putting herself to bed. First her babies must be swaddled and sung to, prayed for and then lovingly placed down.

Our schedule, is clearly not her schedule.

I listen as she sings "Rain Rain Go Away." First, inserting her baby brother's name, then... Her dad interrupts- "Ok" he says, "Time to get to bed."
"No! No! No!" She yells. He doesn't realize the song isn't over just because it was sung all the way through. It's not over until each family member has had their turn.

I find myself wanting to protect this ritual for her.

Once she is heard and understood, she picks up where she has left off. "Little mommy wants to play... Little daddy wants to play" etc.
After each person has had their turn, she places her baby to sleep and walks herself into her room for bed.

No stalling, no battle. Lots of peace.

My mind wanders. There is a purpose in what she is doing. Every word, every verse, even the way she swaddled her babies- intentional. When that is uninterrupted, everything seems to fall into place. She even (gasp!) becomes aware of my needs!

She is aware and she should be trusted.

I start thinking about God. I'm thankful for our relationship but if I'm honest it isn't always ... easy.

Why not?

He says things to me like "Give me your burdens."
He says He will provide everything I need.
He says, He is aware and can be trusted. 

That sounds easy. But it's not, and I'm starting to understand why.

My control.
My agenda.

In a world where I am encouraged to take pride in how much control I have over my life (ahem, and my children), it seems God is once again calling me higher.

"The Lord God is my strength, and He will make my feet like hinds' feet, and He will make me to walk upon high places." Habakkuk 3:19

Sick on Christmas

Christmas is around the corner, so shouldn't I be filled with joy?

I love making hot cocoa and snuggling up with my family. I love brainstorming about the perfect gift for each family member and I love love love when they come in the mail! Wrapping is fun. Christmas smells are delicious. Mariah Carey Christmas tunes are music to my ears.

These things make me so happy.

But I'm not going to lie and say that I am constantly filled with joy when thinking about the approaching holiday. Actually it's quite the opposite. When I think about the actual days of Christmas festivities I start to feel a bit faint.

Like, sick actually.

I start thinking about missed naps, late bedtimes, tantrums, well-meaning family members who are way to willing to fill little children with loads and loads of SWEETS, traveling and toys that make noise!

This does not describe a joyful holiday for me.

I'm not here to complain though.

Here is a rundown of my first christmas with a child.

Actually, I just tried to access that part of my memory and I think I may have blocked it out.

All I can remember is Christmas day. It was not too bad,  but my little lady was running low on sleep because of Christmas Eve Eve and Christmas Eve with her other family. At seven months old, she sat on the floor while everyone opened their gifts. When it came time for hers, family members naturally wanted to hold her and open her gifts with her. I watched as she fussed and half cried, not wanting to be held. While people kept saying (in the best way possible) "No, you don't want mommy now, here! let's open some gifts!" I remember my brain being absolutely fried. FRIED. It was like, all of the check engine lights were flashing in my brain, all lit up saying "Leave her alone, she's just tired!!"

I wish I could remember the full Christmas to properly describe the days that preceded this one and led me to the breakdown, but I can't. And frankly, I don't think I want to.

I had to bring this to God because I absolutely could not have this happen every single holiday and we still had one more family to visit!

He showed me, what you are probably thinking right now.

I have control issues.

I know this, I know that I know what is best for my children, based on what God has shown me and past experience, but sometimes, even this has to be let go a bit. Hanging on to anything can develop into control. God was showing me that if I try to control everything-- even with the best intentions-- then I am not allowing Him to come close. I am actually keeping myself from experiencing God even more. More importantly, He showed me that this world is not ideal. It is fallen. When I try to ALWAYS  keep my children's environments at the ideal temperature, I am robbing them. I am taking away from them the opportunity to learn how to function in a less than ideal world, and I am actually (this is hard to type) keeping God further away from them as well. I stand in place of Holy Spirit who was sent to us as comforter and guide to learn how to navigate this world no matter what situation we find ourselves in.

Phew.

As are many things with God, this was comforting, refreshing and extremely hard to swallow.

How can I be ok just sitting back? WELL! That's where this past thanksgiving came into play. I tried just sitting back. Letting it allllll slide. The lady had lots of good thanksgiving food accompanied by 2 solo cups filled with orange juice, cherry pie, pumpkin pie and three layer cake. Family members smiled and giggled at her extreme desire for junk food and her oh so adorable tantrum when I tried to say no. When we got home (past her bedtime and with no nap) bed time was out of control. We both just sat and cried. It was terrible.

To God I went. What was going on?!?

He encouraged me to put the two together and see what happens. Combining what I know to be best, but with room for movement so that Holy Spirit could guide both me and my children creates BALANCE. He spoke that He has given me the ability to know what is best for my children, I have to stick to that, but I can't let myself go absolutely crazy when things aren't going exactly as planned. There has to be a balance.

So here is the balance challenge this Christmas. Christmas eve and Christmas day are planned. Last minute we are asked to tack on two more events back to back, making 4 days of family events in a row.

Excuse me while I grab a paper bag and take deep breaths.

I simply said no. Nope. No. We aren't doing both. I have a responsibility to my children and my family to keep the stress levels low--to make Christmas enjoyable.

This is in fact the celebration of our Savior's birth. It can be so easily forgotten.

Lord, help me as I keep trying to find the balance!

Any tips on how to keep Christmas' bipolar qualities at bay?

A house is not a home...

"And Jesus replied to him, 'Foxes have holes and the birds of the air have lodging places, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head."

Before I was married, but after I left home, I moved around a lot. Now that I am married, WE move around. A lot.

 Maybe it's me? 

In the seven years after high school I moved 8 times. In 4 years of marriage we have moved 4 times. I like to think that perhaps God knew what my marriage would look like so he prepped me to be an extra efficient purger and packer in the years leading up to it :)

 Or maybe I just have a home-commitment problem. 

Either way, because of the constant moving it's hard for me to really lay down roots, decorate in ways that I would like and really create a home that I want to live in and grow a family in.

During one particular move, I was extra emotional. We were moving from my absolute dream apartment to a house and a town that was just not... me. I remember unpacking our room while my husband was having some friends over to play cards. I was silently crying, and heard him tell one of our friends that I was not "handling the move very well." 

That's when I lost it. 

Total meltdown, crashed into a pile of boxes and sobbed. 

WHAT is our life? Why can't I settle God? Where are you taking us God?

 In between cries, I started thinking of Jesus. He didn't have a home on earth either. I perked up a bit, honored and humbled that God would let me experience a bit more of His son. I wondered how Jesus did it. 

My conclusion? 

The presence of God. 

He didn't have a home but he was so close to his father. 

Standing in a room of boxes, I knew what would make our house a home. And it wasn't the hardwood floors that I longed for. It was the presence of God. 

And again, I felt honored and humbled that God would choose little ol' me to walk this path.

What makes your house a home?

** Disclaimer: To my darling husband, this does NOT in any way mean that I don't want to move back to the city into a dream apartment. I would do that tomorrow. Or tonight, actually. Yeah. Tonight.

Respect the Journey

As a birth worker the  idea of "respecting the journey" is something that comes up often. Respect of the birthing woman...respect that her body, if left alone, will birth a baby. Respecting that the baby knows how to be born. God has shown me how this plays out in our journey as Christians as well.
He has also shown me that the journey doesn't really matter.


It's hard for me to wrap my head around this.


But if we could always understand God then He wouldn't be much of a God, right?

When I was pregnant with my first child, I would tell God, "I can't have a baby. I'm not where I need to be spiritually!"

I wanted to be at a place on my journey with Jesus where I spent quality time with him everyday- where my faith could literally move mountains. I wanted to see miracles, healing, signs and wonders everyday and hear God clearer than I could hear my husband.

But I wasn't there at all.

Like, not even a little bit.

God told me something like this:
"It doesn't matter that they (my children) aren't seeing the "glory" of your relationship with me. What         matters is that they see your hunger and your thirst. It matters that they see you pressing on towards your goal and striving to know me better. If they just see the end result, it will all feel way out of their reach. They need to see your journey, and you need to respect your journey and not wish it away."

-----

Just the other day, my daughter was eating her lunch. She was taking each and every pea, squishing it and putting it to the side. She said she was making "pea oil." It took everything in me to just walk away and trust she would eat. I tried so hard to fight every urge to control the way she was choosing to eat her food, after all, I kept telling myself, all I really cared about was whether or not the peas made it into her belly.
I walked away and washed the dishes. To my (very pleasant!) surprise, once I was done, I looked over and she had eaten all of her peas. I heard God say "It doesn't matter how they come to me, all that matter is that they do." This gave me hope that no matter what the journey looks like, the end result is what matters.


Hey, maybe the lesson is this:

They need to see my journey, I need to respect their journey, and God will take care of the end result.

Just a thought.

I like to catch myself saying things to my kids and then realize that God sometimes says the very same thing to me.

The other day, at lunch, my daughter spilled her milk on the table. "Uh-oh!" she said trying to find something to clean it up with. 

Before she could could get to it, I grabbed my napkin and said "Don't worry, I've got it." 

It hit me right then. 

That's how God our father is. I can't count the amount of times He has swooped into one of my accidents and cleaned it up as if to say "Don't worry, I've got it."

So thankful for a God who doesn't cry over spilled milk ;)

The Three Essentials

I told God one day, "I want my (our) daughter to grow and learn and be healthy." Much to my surprise He didn't go on and on about the importance of always eating organic food, or keeping her away from sweets (Gosh, I wish He had because that would be the BEST excuse when explaining myself to family and friends). He didn't say anything about parenting philosophies, approaches to learning, or taking multi-vitamins either. This is what He said:

Sunlight. Fill her with the Word. Relax. 

That's what it takes?

I wasn't sure if I had heard the whole sunlight business correctly... I mean, what about SPF 155 and sun hats and umbrellas? But then I got to thinking... God created the sun, He would never create something that would destroy His people... I decided to do some research.

Did you know that living creatures survive because of sunlight? Plants need it to grow and we need it for energy and growth as well. We not only consume sunlight from being outside on a sunny day, we also get vitmain D and stored solar energy from the plants and animals that we consume.
Hello cellular respiration! Finally, biology class is coming in handy!

The latest research is also showing that EARLY exposure to sunlight decreases the risks for autoimmune diseases like multiple sclerosis and cancers like prostate and wait for it... MELANOMA! It seems that the people who have a history of being in the sun are more likely to recover from cancers like melanoma. Crazy. Absolutely crazy.

The list goes on...

[Now I realize that our world is broken, and that the sun and our atmosphere are not necessarily in tip top shape, I am certainly not negating the importance of sun safety. My point is that it was created for good-- and we should take advantage of that-- not fear it.]

Next up-- filling her with the Word. I must admit, this is one that I struggle with. How do you fill a baby/toddler with the Bible!? I've come to take this a couple of ways... there is the Bible, there are the words that God speaks to me, and there are the words God speaks to her.

As for the Bible, when she was a baby, I would read to her while she nursed. I imagined the sweet words of God seeping into her little brain, exciting her spirit, and nurturing her in the best way possible.

But then she became a toddler.

We read a little toddler Bible to her occasionally-- and when I read my "verse of the day" I try to remember to read it out loud to her. It seems as though her busy toddler self doesn't really care much for the Bible though. hmph.
I still believe that whether she is sitting quietly in my lap as I read or roaming around looking for a left over snack somewhere on the floor, the words of the Bible are seeping into her little brain, exciting her spirit and nurturing her in the best way possible :)

Then there are the words that I hear from God, that her dad hears and that even the other people around her hear. We believe these are just as important to growing a little life. Early on we started recording her history and soon after she was born I started writing down the things that God was speaking to me about being a mom. These may not serve her just yet, but eventually I know that these "words of God" will build her up and encourage her wherever she is at.

Finally there are the words that God speaks to her. This has been my favorite way by far of filling my child with the Word! We simply ask her to be still for a minute and see what God is saying to her, or sometimes we ask her if she would like to pray and wait to see what comes out!
She will often tell us that Jesus is saying her name... one time she prayed that her friend would come over the next day. I decided to keep my mouth shut and not tell her that her friend was not coming over--and good thing because the next day his mom called and asked if we could watch him for a couple of hours! How amazing it was to share that answer to prayer with her. Hopefully this type of simple communication will foster an incredible relationship between her and her Father.

Last, but certainly not least, was God telling me to chill out. I, and I think a lot of moms, can get quite crazy about- well- everything! Crazy about nap time, whether or not our kids are eating too much or too little or the wrong things. Crazy about how much time is spent on the iPhone or the television, and what they are actually watching on these devices! Or how about GOOGLE??! I find myself constantly googling symptoms and issues-- one time I even heard God say "do you trust me or google?" GULP.

Whisper His name in the whirlwind.

I once heard that said. Seems to be the cure to my craziness-- my key to relaxation.

It centers me-- whispering His name.

I also remind myself that my kids are His kids-- and before I lay them down to sleep I give them right back to him (well, let's be honest here-- when I remember!). Like, audibly tell myself and God, "here you go-- they are yours!"

So sunlight, word, relax. Seems easy.

It's not.

The busy-ness of this life seems to get in the way of most of what God teaches me.

But when I remember what God has spoken, life seems so much sweeter.

In these moments I learn exactly what it meant when Jesus said "my yoke is easy", and I can rest assured and in true trust that my children will grow and learn and be healthy.

Ask and you will receive!

Spare the Rod...

Early on I learned that I needed to forget. 

So much of who we are as parents comes from what we have seen and experienced in the world around us. We start developing ideas on parenting way before we are aware by watching our own parents, watching our friends parents, following TV sitcom/ reality parents, and just through our own life experiences. Many of these experiences can be stored in our back pocket, and many of them forgotten. The struggle comes when deciding what goes in which category. 

I have a wide variety of parenting/childhood education skills to draw from. Between my own parents, babysitting, nannying and also working in the early childhood education field I have pretty much experienced every single philosophy one can imagine. I started forming ideas on what kind of parent I would be very early on. 

But then I had a kid. And I realized that God may have other plans for her. 

So starts the forgetting. 

As I prayed, I realized that I needed to isolate every single situation we faced together and bring it to God and find out how He would deal with it. 

This is a lot of work. I so wish that sometimes I could just default to a good old spank, generate the appropriate tearful reaction and voila! win that battle. I also wish that sometimes I could pull her away from a situation, stick her in a corner, make her think about what she has done, piss her off because she can't play with her toys and some how teach her not to repeat her previous behavior.

Ahhhhh power struggles :)

But this way, although sometimes seems so natural (Ahem, learned, so therefore right!) really isn't the way that God wanted me dealing with His child. His way actually requires me to be much more present  in my child's day, in her every action. His way requires me not to simply react but to become an active participant in every situation she faces. 

The biggest nugget God has given me so far is this: "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." 

1 John 4:18 

Did you catch that? God is love. There is no fear in love, therefore God. And fear has to do with punishment. There is no punishment in God. 

Woah, woah woah! Are you saying that you believe that we shouldn't punish our children? What about the whole "spare the rod, spoil the child" thing?

Yes, actually, that is exactly what I am saying. The biggest things that I have learned thus far as a parent is that first, the rod is not a spank. The rod is not punishment. The rod is DISCIPLINE. Discipline brings wisdom, discipline brings self-control and self- esteem. 

Punishment brings fear, shame  and guilt. 

So what does the difference look like? Well, I believe God has showed me that the difference is in the consequence. Discipline teaches and relies on choices and their natural consequences, punishment is put on, unnatural, it is conjured up, it is usually a result of a power struggle. 

I don't believe God punishes. I believe God is holy and sovereign and when we make choices according to His nature-- when we are obedient-- He can be close to us, therefore we experience His goodness. When we choose to disobey, He can't be as close to us because of His holiness and our unholiness. This is not a punishment, this is a natural consequence to our disobedience-- distance from God and therefore left to our own devices.

Ok, so how do I apply this to my child? Well, pretty much in every situation that we face I give her choices and I lay out the consequences. Then it's up to her what happens. 

She loves to watch me cook. Unfortunately, not everything on the counter is exactly safe for her to be touching. She knows that I want her to be safe. She also knows that if she chooses to stand at the counter and watch me cook--with her eyes-- then I am more than happy to have her company. If she chooses to watch me cook --with her hands-- then she is asked to get down, make a safer choice and find something else to do. She makes the choice and deals with the consequence.

When children have choices, they feel in control. They become more reasonable. Tantrums are less, crying is less, and battling is less! When they understand their choices and consequences there are no surprises and when they are actually allowed to make their own choices, they are not only learning to deal with the consequences, they are also building their own self- confidence, different levels of self-control and security in the world around them.

Sounds like a child on her way to developing the fruits of the Spirit no?

 I'll take that over a child crippled by feelings of shame and guilt any day! 

So thankful that I am not on this journey alone.

 God is even more invested in His child than I am, why not let Him take the reins?

What's Up with Free Will?

I never really thought too hard about the concept of free will. I could repeat back to you the standard reasons most Christians would say if asked "why did God choose to give us free will?" It would probably sound something like, "well, because He wanted us to choose to love Him, because that's true love." or the ever famous "God didn't create us to be robots." "God wants a relationship, and what kind of relationship is forced?"

These are the answers that I knew and could recite, but then I got pregnant.

Suddenly those answers were not good enough, because suddenly I was growing a child who I would have to raise and I really, really needed to assure myself that she would be a lover of God. Can I get an "amen"??

What the heck? How do you do that? How do you make sure that your child will want to be in relationship with Jesus? If someone has the answer PLEASE let me know.

This is what happened when I asked God. I sat down and I asked Him plainly "How do I make sure that this child you've given us will always love you?"

This is what I believe that He said.

 "Seek me. Love your daughter. Teach her what is best, then let her go." (gulp) <---- that was me, not God. " There's no way to assure that she will love Me- that's the consequence I faced when giving you free will."

Double gulp.

The concept of free will had never hit me so hard.

God made some BIG sacrifices in order to *maybe* have the relationship that He wanted to have with us. If I were God and could make sure that my children could know me and always have whats best whether they liked it or not, heck yes I would make sure of that! What's up G???!

Recently this has come up again. My husband and I have been talking a lot of about this sacrifice. A couple of months ago, well into my second pregnancy, hubster really struggled with the idea of why God would create us in the first place and then on top of that, why God would give us free will. We discussed back and forth about the idea of companionship, about the idea of God wanting friends and also created us to be people who would love to serve Him and worship Him.

The hub was really questioning why such a good God would bring people into the world when He knew that they would have free will, He knew that they may not choose Him, and He knew that because of the brokenness of the earth, bad things were bound to happen... even to good people, even to lovers of God.

I kept telling him that God knows what our lives will be like once the Kingdom and the earth fully collide. We have to trust that the goodness that we will experience will far outweigh the horror that we see on the earth. We have to trust that any person, no matter what they have gone through, will say "I would do it all over again to bask in the glory of God."

That answer didn't seem like enough. God still seemed so selfish. Then I thought for a moment.
I asked him, "We know how f'd up this world can get. We know that horrible things happen here, yet we are choosing to bring another life into this world. Explain that one to me, and then maybe you will catch a glimpse of the Father's heart."

And it all comes down to LOVE. A crazy love that I can't wait to experience in it's fullest.

Why did you choose to bring children into this world? Please share! I want to know more about the Father!!!