Currently viewing the tag: "Motherhood"
Conversation #1:
“Whatcha playing up there?” I asked, when the girls came downstairs after being in their room a while.
“Hotel. We check people in and out.”
“That’s fun. Who do you check in?—Each other? Your dolls?”
“Oh, no! So far we’ve had Barack Obama, Sara Groves, Selena Gomez, and Ben Stiller.”
Okay…
Could a more random list of imaginary hotel clientele possibly be compiled? I think not.
Conversation #2:
Molly: “They should make a board game of Words With Friends.”
Nathan: “Molly, that’s…Scrabble.”
Molly: “Oh, yeah! It kind of is!”
My son is 12.
Need I say more?
I could go on. I could write about his tension between being big but not quite big enough. I could tell what a mix Nathan is of confident and afraid, grown-up and childish, intelligent and ridiculous, mature and yet…not very. Hygienic but also at times, so very not.
I could tell you all these things, but really, all I need to say is just this: my son is 12.
We all understand.
And we all understand Mary’s confusion, then, at her 12-year-old Jesus. He left the family caravan and decided to stay a little longer to teach the teachers.
“Son, why have you treated us like this?” Mary asked when she finally found him three days later. Why, Mary? Because your son is 12.
Jesus explained that he had to be in his Father’s house. He seemed surprised that Mary didn’t read his thoughts. I know the look on his face, because I’ve seen it on Nathan: astonished at her astonishment. Mothers and 12-year-olds often view one another with mutually astonished faces. Luke explained, “But they did not understand what he was saying to them.”
Oh, Mary, don’t try to understand. Your son is 12!
Luke then recorded that Jesus returned home, obeyed Joseph and Mary, and grew in wisdom, stature, and favor. (He didn’t stay 12! A word of hope.) Of Mary, Luke wrote, “…his mother treasured all these things in her heart.” No need to explain more there, either. We mothers get that. Mary treasured Jesus’ teaching that day in the Temple, just as she’d treasured his birth in the stable (Luke 2:19). No doubt she’d treasured up a million other memories, too, from the Christ’s first smile, to his first tottering steps, to the prophecies Simeon and Anna had pronounced over him.—Mary “marveled” at those words (Luke 2:33).
We moms treasure every bit of it, and the parts that seem the least treasure-worthy at the time, well, perhaps someday those will turn out to be the most precious.
Mary had a treasuring heart, and like mother, like Son. Years later, Jesus spoke of a treasuring heart this way: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21)
Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Mary’s heart treasured her son, the Christ of God. She treasured, not just her memories of motherhood, but also the God who had chosen her. Mary’s heart overflowed with treasure.
Lord, let me treasure You, as Mary did. Let my hope not be here, in the temporary, in security, or even in people. Let me hope in You, and build my treasure on You. And the things I store up now that seem the least treasure-worthy, well, perhaps someday they will prove most precious. Give me a heart like Mary’s, Lord, because You are my greatest treasure! Amen.
- Like Mother, Like Son – part 1: A Willing Spirit
- Like Mother, Like Son – part 2: A Believing Mind
- Like Mother, Like Son – part 3: A Worshiping Soul
Eleven Christmas seasons ago, I was pregnant with Anne Elizabeth. Born on December 14, little Anne even got to be Baby Jesus in our church’s Christmas performance. Jesus, it turned out, was very hungry that night, and cried “his” little lungs out through the entire show.
Something about being pregnant in December made me feel extra motherly, and Luke’s gospel telling of Christ’s birth jumped off the pages of Scripture to me that year. I was especially taken with Mary herself, as though she and I were somehow connected by our round bellies and swollen ankles. I saw four attributes in Mary to emulate in my own life, and the first is this: Mary had a willing spirit.
As a young, engaged virgin, Mary’s angelic encounter must have been overwhelming at best. Terrifying, too, and even absurd. “Mary, I know you’re a virgin and all, but you’re about to be pregnant. And also, your baby will be God.” Crazy! But “nothing is impossible with God,” Gabriel concluded, and Mary replied, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.” (Luke 1:26-38)
May it be to me as you have said. It doesn’t get much more willing than that. I can’t think of the last time I uttered anything close to Mary’s response, at least not without months of arguing and wrestling and trying to figure things out first. Mary did none of that. Just simply, “May it be to me as you have said. I’ll do whatever you say, Lord, and I’ll take whatever you give. I’m your servant.”
And, like mother, like Son. More than three decades later, Jesus himself would speak very similar words to his Father, on an agonizing night in a garden. “Everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” (Mark 14:36)
Nothing is impossible…everything is possible.
May it be to me…not my will but yours.
Oh, what God can do with a willing spirit! With Mary’s willingness, God brought the Messiah into the world. With Christ’s willingness, He brought salvation on the cross. I wonder…if I had the willingness of Mary and Jesus Christ, what impossible feat would God accomplish through me?
Maybe He’d restore a relationship.
“Amy, I want you to forgive her. Let her off the hook.”
“Okay, Lord, I will. I’ll do whatever You ask.”
Maybe God would quiet an anxiety.
“Quit telling me this is impossible, child. Trust Me.”
“I believe You, Father! May it be to me as You have said.”
Maybe, if I were willing, God would use my life to bear much fruit for His glory.
“Just remain in me, and let my words remain in you. I’ll do more than you can more than you can even imagine.” (John 15:7-8; Ephesians 3:20-21)
“Oh, use me. I’m your servant.”
Lord God, You accomplish the crazy. Nothing is impossible with You! Grant me a more willing spirit, Father. Make me more like Mary and more like the Christ. What can you do—through me—with a willing spirit? Whatever it is, God, may it be to me as you have said. I’m your servant. Amen.
Drumroll, please…
***UPDATE: Congratulations to two winners, Diana and Sarah! You each won a copy of MomSense by Jean Blackmer. Please email me your addresses and I’ll get your books in the mail! Thanks for commenting, and happy reading!
I’m so happy to offer MomSense: A Common-Sense Guide to Confident Mothering, to two readers!
And, since this blog boasts around six readers, well, your chances of winning are very, very good.
Giveaway details are below, but first, more about the book. MomSense offers practical advice and personal stories to moms of little ones. Author Jean Blackmer helps moms determine their own unique parenting styles and strengths. Her questions and quizzes throughout make MomSense an ideal choice for a moms’ group. Most of all, MomSense lets moms know that they do, indeed, have what it takes to mother the kids God gave them…much-needed encouragement because, moms, don’t we all secretly wonder if we can actually do this mother thing right?
Or maybe I’m the only one.
Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) has generously provided two signed(!) copies of MomSense, so let’s do something fun. Leave a comment before Friday, November 25, and I’ll choose two winners. In the comments, tell me…the best OR worst part of mothering. For example, the best part of mothering is bedtime prayers. The worst part is…the puke. You get the idea.
Be sure to comment on this post (not on facebook, dear friends) before Friday! On your mark, get set, go!
When Andy is gone overnight, Nathan kicks into “man of the house” mode. Suddenly, the boy who has to be reminded to use a comb on his head recalls everything Andy usually does. Nathan locks the doors at night, brings the trashcans in from the curb, turns off every light in the house, and makes perfect grilled cheese sandwiches.
Okay, he doesn’t really do that last part. But Andy has already started passing on his grilled cheese skills. It won’t be long before Nathan earns his spatula. Train up a child in the way he should go!
Nathan’s “do what Dad does” mentality brought me to tears one morning a few years ago when Andy was out of town. I was putting on my makeup in the bathroom, and Nathan wandered in.
“Hi, Mom,” he began. He was tugging at the front of his hair—his habit when he’s nervous. “Um…I was just gonna say, is there anything I can do for you today?”
Very sweet, certainly, and thoughtful beyond his years. But the question revealed more. It wasn’t just Nathan being kind…it was Nathan being like his father. Nearly every morning, Andy asks me, “Is there anything I can do for you today?” “How can I help you today?” I’d honestly not given such a kindness much thought, until I heard it echoed by my son.
“Is there anything I can do for you today?”
And it made me wonder. If my kids were to emulate me, what would they do? What do they hear me say day after day? Do they hear me laugh, or complain? Respect my husband, or nag him? Would they spend an hour in the Word, or on facebook? What would it look like to look like me?
Lord, thank You for a husband who serves because He wants to be like You. Thank You for the example he sets for Nathan. God, the little people around me might someday look like me—oh! Please, help me to look like You. Don’t stop refining me until I do. And let my heart’s cry every morning be, “My Father, is there anything I can do for You today?” Amen.
Recently, I read The Blessing: Giving the Gift of Unconditional Love and Acceptance, by John Trent and Gary Smalley. My mom and mother-in-law recommended this book to me years ago, so when I saw that Thomas Nelson released an updated version, I jumped at the chance to review it for their BookSneeze program.
The Blessing is based on the Old Testament concept of parents “blessing” children–specifically, Jacob and Esau in Genesis 27. Esau missed his father’s blessing, thanks to his conniving brother. Trent and Smalley discuss the heartache and hurt of missing a parent’s blessing…and the life-changing, life-giving effects of receiving it. They offer five elements of every blessing:
- meaningful touch
- a spoken message
- attaching high value
- picturing a special future
- an active commitment
What a blessing The Blessing is! I learned so much about my kids, and how I need to bless them better. But this book isn’t only for parents. I also learned the power of blessing Andy, and I was particularly challenged by the concept of “meaningful touch”, since I’m not a toucher-feeler by nature. A few great quotes from The Blessing:
“Gaining or missing out on parental approval has a tremendous effect on us, even if it has been years since we have had any contact with them. In fact, what happens in our relationship with our parents can greatly affect all our present and future relationships.”
“Many addictions…have their roots in the deep loneliness of growing up without a parent’s blessing.”
“For a child in search of the blessing, silence communicates mostly confusion. Children who are left to fill in the blanks when it comes to what their parents think about them will often fail the test when it comes to feeling valuable and secure.”
“Each of us should be keenly aware of the power of our words. We should also be aware of how powerful the absence of such words can be.”
For your kids, for your spouse, for your friends, and for the sake of your own healing…don’t miss The Blessing!
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze program. But they didn’t make me say I like it…I just do. 
God is seldom early, as the saying goes, but I’ll never forget the day He showed up nearly seven weeks ahead of schedule. Due in the middle of September, Nathan was born on the first day of August. A placental abruption, seizure, ventilator, and three-week stay in NICU were my scary introduction to motherhood.
Not exactly how I’d pictured things. We hadn’t even attended our labor and delivery classes yet. No blue bubblegum cigars, no happy pictures. Instead of proudly handing Nathan from friend to admiring friend, Andy held my hand as we prayed over a tiny NICU bed.
Three weeks later, it was finally time to leave the hospital. The doctor signed a paper, the nurse turned off the machines, and for the first time, Nathan was unplugged. Cordless, Andy said. Just like that, our little family was free to go home. Ready or not, here we come!
I wasn’t ready. Not ready at all.
Andy pulled the car away from the hospital, and I rode in the back seat, next to Nathan. I worried over every bump and bend in the road while he slept soundly. Then, afraid that he was sleeping too soundly, I reached for his tiny wrist. I felt Nathan’s pulse the entire way home.
How could I trust that he was okay? Without the hospital monitors, how could I know if Nathan’s heart rate was regular, or if he was still breathing, or that he wouldn’t have another seizure? So many things could go wrong, and I was unprepared. This was all happening too soon. Really, Lord, I’m not ready!
And yet. In all my fear, the Lord spoke comfort. Through the prophet Isaiah, He promised His presence. “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10) My God was present in every anxious moment, and His presence brought peace.
And to all my inadequacies, Christ spoke power. “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” “That is why, for Christ’s sake,” wrote Paul, “I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10) I wasn’t ready, but the Ancient of Days was. I wasn’t enough, but His grace was sufficient. His power was perfected in my weakness.
A dozen years and two more babies later, I still feel inadequate in parenting. On my own, I’m never prepared enough, never competent enough for all that motherhood requires. But, He brings comfort in the chaos. Strength in my weakness. He is all-sufficient in my insufficiency. Ready or not…the Lord is enough.
I found this jotted down in an old note, and it made me laugh:
“Uh, Mom. Why do you have a book called Child Training Tips? I don’t think we need trained.” -Molly Jane, age 5
I laughed because I remembered how offended she was! And because, she hasn’t changed a bit.
For the record, Child Training Tips by Reb Bradley was one of my favorite parenting books when my kids were little, just in case you’re interested. Because, like it or not, we all need trained.
One evening as I wrote at Panera, I couldn’t help but watch the young family at a table nearby. The parents’ proud, adoring faces told me that this baby boy was their first child, and that they loved every single thing he did. He wasn’t just the most important person in Panera—to them, he was the only other person on the planet.
Dad answered his son’s every coo with, “Oh, really? Is that right? What else?” Mom spooned something green out of a jar, her mouth moving like her baby’s as she tried to get the food in his face. More than once, the parents grinned at each other across the table, marveling over this precious person their love had created.
I remember looking at Nathan just like that. We found him fascinating. Quite honestly, I don’t remember feeding Molly, but I suppose the fact that she’s still alive proves she must’ve been fed at some point. That’s the plight of the third born.
It struck me, as I stared, that God sees me just like those parents saw their baby. Unconditional love, delight, fascination. To Him, I’m the firstborn. With God, I’m the only child on the planet. And so are you. He marvels over us because He created us in love.
I once heard Beth Moore say that God isn’t rearing us to leave home. We’ll be with Him forever. He is always a loving father, and He never loses His fascination for us. Zephaniah described our perfect parent this way:
The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. (Zephaniah 3:17)
God, let me know—KNOW—just how loved I am. What security, what purpose, what life is mine, because of Your forever love! Thank You, Father, for calling me Your own. Amen.
When the kids were young, and I was up to my eyeballs in diapers and sippy cups, I nearly punched a woman in the face.
Andy and I were having dinner with several couples we didn’t know. We introduced ourselves to one another, and to a young, newly-engaged woman, I said that I was stay-at-home mom. With a nod toward her fiancé, she replied assuredly, “Yeah, when we have kids, I won’t stay home. I’m not really the kind of woman who likes to cook and clean all day.”
And I very nearly punched her, square in the nose.
Instead, I blurted out a comeback that made Andy laugh for weeks. “Well, I don’t do it because I like it!”
I love being a mom, of course, but there are certain aspects of the job that I don’t always like. What I meant to say…what I should’ve said to the poor girl…was something more like, “I don’t like to cook and clean all day. In fact, I don’t cook and clean all day. But I stay home with my kids because I think it’s what God wants me to do.”
And for the record, my mom-friends who work outside their homes do so because they’re confident that God has called them there, too. I also know moms who love to cook all day, and even a few women who love to clean…because God has simply wired them that way.
Every mom—stay-at-home moms and career moms alike—does some things that she doesn’t like. That’s part of being an adult, really. Maturity is the ability to delay gratification…to put what’s required ahead of what’s just desired. Moms make sacrifices out of love, whether or not they like it.
Moms understand Paul’s call to humble service in his letter to the Philippians. “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 2:3-5)
Paul goes on to explain the servant heart of Jesus. He left his throne, humbled himself, and obeyed even to the point of death by crucifixion. Why? He didn’t do it because He liked it. Christ endured the cross because He loved us. He made the ultimate sacrifice because He knew it’s what God wanted Him to do.
And what was the result? Paul says, the sacrifices were worth it. “Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus is Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 2:9-11)
For moms, duty calls. Duty to children, yes, but more importantly, duty to the Lord. We don’t do it because we like it. We make sacrifices because we love our children—and our God.
Lord, the sacrifices I make as a mom pale in comparison to the sacrifice You made for me. And yet, on the days when I’m overwhelmed by it all, will You remind me that it’s worth it? Remind me to have the same attitude as that of Christ Jesus. Thank You that Your Spirit empowers me to accomplish everything You call me to do…whether or not I like it. Amen.
