Currently viewing the tag: "Motherhood"
First, a book! Congratulations to Leigh Ann for winning a copy of Tracey Bianchi’s book, Mom Connection: Creating Vibrant Relationships in the Midst of Motherhood, published by MOPS. “In this witty, encouraging book, Tracey Bianchi shows us how to cultivate deeper friendships that challenge us to grow, create healthy, life-giving rhythms for our families, and connect and give back to the wider world beyond our doors.” Yay, Leigh Ann! Hope you enjoy the book!
And secondly, a blessing! A few years back, I came across this excerpt by Mary Jean Irion. It’s “a mother’s reflection as she combed her seven-year-old daughter’s hair after a bath,” and I completely love it. Hope it blesses you!
Comb and dry, comb and dry. “Soon I won’t be able to do this any more,” you say to yourself, knowing that the little straight bob must inevitably yield to grown-up coiffures and ugly curlers. What will she be like at fourteen? Where will her hair be blowing then? And sixteen and eighteen—you suppose boys will love to watch her hair blow as you do now. And some of them will feel it on their faces, and one of them will marry her, and her hair will be perfect under the veil, and there will be her hair spread out on his pillow…oh, you hate him a little and wonder where he is at this moment and whether he’ll be good to her….They will grow old together…the gold-brown hair will be gray, and you will be gone, and then she will be gone…this very hair that now your fingers smooth…All the tears of the world swim for a second in your eyes as you snatch the plug out of the socket suddenly and gather her into your arms, burying your face in the warm hairs as if you could seal this moment against all time.
“…she may well perish with the shame of having such a mother.”
–Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice
Oh, moms. We try, don’t we? I’ve never met a mother who didn’t try—who didn’t want the best for her kids.
But.
Try as we may, we aren’t perfect. Every year on this blog, in honor of Mother’s Day, we share our shortcomings. Mother’s Day Confessions are a lighthearted look at our motherhood mess-ups. No pretense or pretending here! Confess with me, and then, let’s celebrate our day by resting in God’s grace. He is always enough, even when we aren’t! (2 Corinthians 12:9)
Mother’s Day Confessions — 2012
- One evening, I stood in the hall between my kids’ bedrooms and complimented Nathan on his clean room. “It’s so clean, I could do cartwheels in there!” Then, with a look at the girls’ room, I added, “…But this room is much less conducive to cartwheels.” The girls burst into tears, I apologized profusely, and everyone went to bed feeling terrible.
- I didn’t pay attention to a change in Molly’s ballet schedule, and I dropped her off at the studio an hour late. She called in tears. “I don’t know what happened but this isn’t my class and these aren’t my friends so can you please come GET ME?!”
- I don’t tuck my kids in bed anymore. In fact, most often, they come tell me good night…because I’m already in bed.
- My most frequent answer to Nathan’s homeschooling questions this year was, “No idea. Google it.”
- One night, I missed a three-inch step off my friend’s front porch. I flung my arms out, trying to regain my balance in the slow-motion fall. In the process, I punched Molly in the nose and glasses. Then I grabbed her by the shirt collar, and nearly pulled her down with me. I more than doubly outweigh her, and yet, I apparently expected her to catch me.
- Driving home, I saw an old wooden rocking chair on the side of the road. After trying for ten minutes to get it into our little car, I made Nathan carry it all the way to our house. Through our entire neighborhood. While his friends rode circles around him on their bikes, and he blushed with embarrassment.
- Speaking of that rocking chair, you may remember this story about a confrontation with our HOA. Now, here’s the rest of the story. After a tender moment in prayer for our enemies, as Nathan headed back outside to play, I offered this Christlike advice: “…and if she ever talks to you like that again, just say, ‘Lady, who peed in your Cheerios?’”
- “You’re probably the only mom who makes every devotion be about sex, Mom.” (Hey, YOU read James 1:15 and tell me that isn’t a sex ed class waiting to happen.)
- “Mom, can we PLEASE wash my sheets? These STILL have blood on them from when I got that bloody nose, like, a LONG time ago.”
- Anne: “How do fish have babies?” Me: “The mom fish lays eggs, and the dad fish squirts man juice on ‘em.”
Okay, your turn! Leave your confessions in the comments, and you’ll be entered to win a copy of Mom Connection: Creating Vibrant Relationship in the Midst of Motherhood, by Tracey Bianchi, new from MOPS! I’ll do a random drawing at noon on Tuesday, May 15, when I’ll post more about the book. Good luck, and Happy Mother’s Day!
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.
