The Sweetest Hour

I wrote this a few years ago when my second daughter was not quite two and I was expecting our third child. Tired did not begin to describe where I was at! But I treasure these sweet memories.

***

My head hit the pillow last night at about 10:30, and my aching body gave way to glorious sleep.  I don’t remember a thing.

Until about 3am.

A tiny little voice was just enough to jolt me awake.

“MAMA!  W’AR YOU?!”

Little one. Awake.  Again.  Thanks to some new teeth breaking through and a penchant for middle-of-the-night chatter, she stood at my door in her little striped purple footie jammies.

“Mama?  Cuddles?  Couch?”

I scooped her up in her white crocheted blanket, gave her Snoopy and Raffi (her stuffed giraffe), and held her on my lap.  She talked about the stars that were projected onto the ceiling from one of those ladybug lights.

I closed my eyes, and felt a little hand on my face.

“No, Mama.  No close eyes.  Open eyes.  Count the STARS!”

Oh my goodness, I thought she would wake her snoring big sister for sure.  (They’ve been sharing a room for a month and  a half.  We’re still working out the kinks.)

Nope.  The oldest sawed logs while the younger one chatted about how the pink stars are up there, and could she touch them or taste them, but no they’re not food.

“Stars not food Mama!”  she laughed.

“No, stars are not food.  Shh… go to sleep…” I tried.

Her blanket was freshly washed and dried with vanilla scented dryer sheet.

She smelled like a warm vanilla cookie.  What a delicious moment.

3am gave way to 4am, and I decided it was time to put her back in her bed.  I only had to bring her back about three or four times before she stayed until nearly 7am (what a miracle!).

Her big sister was up just before 6am, looking for a Berenstain Bears book to read.

The day officially began.  Even though it kind of already began at 3am, with an inquisitive “Mama, w’ar you?”

Although sleep-deprived today, I really wouldn’t have missed that hour for the world.

feet

Tiny toes

A Simple Moment that Changed Our Day

“First she wrecked my toys, now she has my favourite cup!” my almost 5 year old shrieked. It had been a long morning already – and it had only just begun. Feeling forgotten and frustrated, she sat on the floor and wailed.

I turned from my important task, walked across the room, sat down on the floor beside her and pulled her onto my lap, arms around her tight.

“I love you. I see you,” I said quietly between her sobs. Her body relaxed and she poured out her heart. It was a moment we both would have missed if I hadn’t paid attention.

Truthfully, I don’t always catch on to their cries to be seen and held. Sometimes when they upset my apple cart of plans and goals for that very moment, I react instead of respond. But I am learning that when my kids are pushing away from me, that’s when I need to stop what I am doing, and draw near to them.

Anyone else find it easier to lecture than to love? Love requires more than my words. Lecturing postures me above them, wagging my finger and my tongue, hoping it will somehow change their behaviour; love puts me beside them, holding and comforting, offering security and safety. Lecturing can be done from across the room; love demands the nearness of my actual presence. Lecturing leaves lingering guilt; love brings restoration.

Jesus, silence my lecturing tongue and let your amazing love flow through me today to these precious ones in my care.

love kid art

a love note from my daughter

Hashtag Momlife

I can feel the frustration bubbling up inside.

My to-do list is as long as my arm, with a limited amount of time to accomplish it – and between the running around, the constant fighting of the kids, the sweet babe who isn’t following his usual pattern, a last-minute lunch plan, a huge cup of spilled milk and a new tummy ache, I can’t seem to manage to get even one thing accomplished.

Hashtag Momlife.

My older sister calls. “How’s your day?” she asks. And the inevitable unloading of my current state of affairs comes tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop it. “…so, yeah – not awesome.”

She’s been in my shoes before – her kids are teenagers now but I know she knows.

Her wise words then reach my weary heart and bring me hope.

She says, “My prayer for you today is that you would seek first His kingdom and all the rest will be added to you, and you’ll see God’s provision in amazing ways.”

It’s tempting to be skeptical or to brush it off, but I can’t. I am learning how much I need Jesus and the people He has put in my life.

To my great relief, her prayer for me is answered.  I am watching and waiting throughout the day, and I see His grace in a million little ways – and some big ones too.

Thank you Lord!

mama

Kid art! Love it. My daughter drew this picture of me a few months ago.

 

Letting My Living Room Go

I walked in the house the other night and saw the remnants of the day scattered around the living and dining room. Books over here, toys over there, unfinished pictures and markers on the table. Random socks dotting the floor, along with crumbs and bits of paper, and little t-shirts and pants in piles where daytime clothes became pajamas.

And you know something? For the very first time, maybe the only time ever in my life, I didn’t freak out. I looked upon the glorious mess and my heart was actually lifted by the signs of life around me! It’s a common sight in our home – all the things lying around all the time. It’s truly the project that is never quite finished! Every day, we fill up and spill over this space. Yes, it is work to clean it up – and yes, since our kids are still pretty young, we’re heavily involved in the supervising and helping of said cleaning – but I had this realization in that moment that felt like I had sprouted wings and flew away from the stress of our mess.

It was simply this: we are a lively family of six people who all have our own plans and dreams and goals for this shared space we live in. And while those plans and dreams and goals don’t always align, one thing is for certain – we are living here together, and we are making a home with each other, enthusiastically pursuing our interests. But guess what? One day that will change. They’ll be enthusiastically pursuing their interests in their own homes, and this space will hold the memories of running and playing and laughing and creating and resting and recharging and building relationships with the ones they hold dear.

Can I just be honest? This is something I have to work with in my heart most days, because kid mess can really drain the life out of you if you let it. Thankfully the older kids are getting to be experts at cleaning up the thing they are playing with before pulling something else out, but we still have littles who are exploring the world around them with great curiosity! And instead of freaking out over the mess like I used to, I’m starting to adopt the famous Miss Frizzle quote from “The Magic Schoolbus”. Right before they go on their adventure, she always says, “Time to take chances, make mistakes and get messy!”

This year, I vow to keep the top of the piano cleared of clutter so I can have a nice vase of fresh flowers on it instead of junk. But other than that, it’s a free-for-all. We are going to learn to get messy and learn how to clean it up all together, even if it takes all day!

Here’s to letting MY living room go, and letting it become OUR living room!

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Flowers on the piano

The Time Machine: You Can Always Come Home

This morning’s post is from 2013. Still touches my heart!

***

Yesterday my two and a half year old and I were sitting on the couch, watching that talking vegetable show and we got to the end of the one about the scarecrow and the tin man and the cowardly lion, which is really the story of the Prodigal Son (lost on her… she just loves to see her favourite veggies dressed up like her favourite literary characters)… and we get to this end part where the little asparagus is coming home after running away to the amusement park.

And he’s practicing his speech…

“Mr. O’Gill… Mr. Farmer O’Gill, I would like to work for you…”

And oh, I can feel them tears threatening.

And that Dad Asparagus won’t hear a word of it.  He just picks up that little Asparagus and whirls him around in his arms, and says all those things that we know so well – “you were lost, and now you’re found.  You were dead to me, and now you’re here”… and for the first time in my life, I am that Dad Asparagus.  And I picture my precious children breaking my ever-living heart in a million ways, again and again, and I picture myself waiting and agonizing and praying for them to return to me.  And then they do.

And I finally understand.

So that Dad Asparagus and that little Asparagus are jumping on that computer animated trampoline, and with every bounce, another tear slips down my cheek.

And Andrew Peterson sings:

“You can always come home
You can always come home
You can always come home to me”.

I wipe my tears before she has the chance to ask, “You cryin’ Mom?”.

And I know that’s my voice singing along.  “You can always come home to me, kids”.  Always and forever.

And I thank the Father that I can always come home.  Because lately, I’ve been practicing that “come home” speech – that one that says “I can work off my debt, sir, if you just give me a chance…”

And I am met with that unexpected, undeserved, unabashed love and acceptance – the very thing my heart craves, in the very place I least expected it.

And I crumple into His arms – stunned, relieved, amazed.

His patience – stunning.

His forgiveness – life-giving.

His love – amazing.

(I also think, “what a God’s-Glory-moment – using a cartoon to bring healing to a tired mama’s heart.”)

yellow flower

 

Mom! You Aren’t Watching!

“Mom, you aren’t watching!” My four year old cried out. “You missed the whole thing!”

Unbeknownst to me, she was showing off some new moves she made up for the March from The Nutcracker. Her little heart broke when she realized I had left the room to change the baby right before the big finale.

When I returned, she was quite distraught.

“I’m sorry sweetheart! Why don’t we start it again and I’ll watch the whole thing, alright?” I suggested. She went for it. We restarted the song and I settled in to witness every move she made. Every time she did something “cool”, she looked to see if I was watching – and this time, I was. I smiled and cheered while she moved her body perfectly in time, and when she was done, I wrapped my arms around her.

“Great job!” I said.

She beamed.

Off she went to play with her little sister.

It comes in different forms, doesn’t it? “Mom, watch me!” “Do you want to hear my new song?” “Can I show you a cool trick?” “Are you coming to my play?” “Look at what I made!” Every single one a cry to be seen, known, celebrated, connected. Every single one an opportunity to love on these littles of mine.

Often, my “inn is too full”, so to speak. I’m turning away the most important visitors, relegating them to the stable as I briskly move throughout the house from here to there doing this and that, taking care of my list, accomplishing my goals. I am loving on my family in the practical way of making a home for them to live in and enjoy. But when it comes time to stand in the cold next to the playground equipment to watch one more cool trick on the monkey bars, even though if we leave even five minutes later we will get stuck in rush hour traffic, can I show them that kind of love, the kind that costs me something?

Love shines brightest in the places we overlook.

God’s Son carried by an unwed teenager.

The King of Kings is born in a stable.

Angels appear to a band of shepherds.

This Sunday, we’ll light the Advent candle of love. It’s a beautiful sentiment – that love is the greatest gift of all.

But here’s the bottom line: loving well is hard. It costs me something every single moment of every single day. I can hardly spend a few minutes trying to write a post like this without being interrupted by ample opportunity to love on my kids – from answering their questions to helping them sort out conflicts, to one climbing up on my lap and trying to type as I type to a hungry babe crying out for a spot of lunch.

These are easy to overlook because too often I am only looking at myself. But we serve a God who is far greater than we can ever imagine – a God who came near to help us tear our eyes off ourselves and turn them in worship to Him. When we meet Him, we discover the love we never knew was possible, and in turn, we pour it out on those around us in ways we never would have considered before.

Let’s love well this Christmas, and into the New Year. Let’s allow this life-changing love to transform us from the inside out so we can love the way He first loved us. Let’s let His love shine in those places we used to overlook.

Why? Because Romans 5:8 –

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

And 1 Corinthians 13:4-8a –

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

And most of all, 1 John 4:19 –

We love because He first loved us.

Amen. And Merry Christmas!

nutcracker

This is our 3 foot tall Nutcracker

The Time Machine: Strong-Willed Much?

The Time Machine series features posts from years past.

This morning I’m sharing more thoughts on this Sunday’s Advent theme of Peace. My life is still every bit as crazy as it was when I first wrote it, since we’ve added a baby to the mix this year. Four kids almost seven and under is BUSY and finding a moment of peace can be tough, so I find myself praying this prayer again this season.

***

I’ve heard that strong-willed parents create strong willed children.

Oh my.  I must be very strong-willed.  Haha!

But seriously, though.  This week we’ve been spending time thinking about the next theme of Advent.

Peace.

What in the world is that when you’re butting heads with an almost 5 year old over a scooter, helping an almost 3 year old sort through her very big emotions about sandwiches, and keeping an almost 1 year old from biting her sisters while she pulls every book off the bottom shelves?

Whew.  I am feeling weary today, friends.  I understand that the care and raising of tiny humans makes up only a short season in a person’s life.  I have it on good authority (from friends who have been here) that these years are formative and important, and that the way I am spending this time is going to make a difference in the future.  I know that one day I will look back on these ridiculous moments and remember them with complete fondness and not even a hint of frustration.  I may even laugh about them!  (hmm.  Not quite there yet.)

But most of all, I believe that parenting is actually simply running to Jesus every single step of the way – in the amazing moments and the not-so-amazing moments.  (An awesome thing I read in a book called “Hoodwinked” by Karen Ehman and Ruth Schwenk!)

The funny thing is, every day is filled with both.   Isn’t that some sweet kindness from the Lord?

Jesus, be my peace in the middle of this chaos.

Be my hope when despair sneaks in.

Be my joy when sorrow knocks on my heart’s door.

And be my love when I feel spent.

nestled in the tree

Nestled in a tree

The Time Machine – This Doesn’t Look How I Thought it Would

The Time Machine series features posts from years past.

Today I’m sharing something from just last year, something that I’m still learning moment by moment. 

***

The little clay sheep was unrecognizable. But for once in my life I was happy to leave it alone, instead of “fixing it”.

We had this brilliant idea of making our own Nativity set this year out of air-dry clay. And by “we” I mean me. My oldest asked if we could bring out the clay and make something together. But what? Christmas is coming so I suggested we make Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus. That, of course, evolved into the whole cast of characters.

First, we made the stable out of an old cereal box and brown construction paper and the girls drew and cut out the Star of Bethlehem. We’ll glue that to the top later on.

Out came the clay. She worked on Mary as her younger sister squished Baby Jesus flat. I helped her make him more like a little swaddled baby and she used a green toothpick to carve out his eyes, nose and mouth. Then we worked on the manger and Joseph. I watched as she took that toothpick and again carefully shaped his features.

At one point, the oldest paused to survey her Mary. “This doesn’t look how I thought it would.”

Sometimes the kids have these one-liners that pretty much sum things up in general, you know? haha! But I digress.

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “Sculpting takes practice.”

“We need sheep!” she cried. She formed a sheep out of several balls of clay, and her sister squished and poked her lump of clay into something that did not resemble a sheep at all.  But there it was. Done for the day. We’ll add the shepherds, angel and wisemen later.

When I suggested we make our own Nativity set, I had a sneaking suspicion that I wouldn’t be getting perfect figurines fired in our old-fashioned kiln, hand-painted with the greatest detail and then placed in a fine cedar stable with fresh straw from the neighbour’s farm.

Nope. More like little clay blobs, one with arms outstretched, standing in an old Cheerios box, awaiting a coat of cheap poster paint.

I don’t know why I see such beauty in the plainness of life, but when I looked at that “craft” on our piano later that night, I was amazed. My daughter’s Mary has her arms outstretched, as if she’s worshiping. Surprisingly, it really touched my heart.

To a bystander, it probably all looks ready for the heap. When I tried to move Joseph his arm fell off – so we’ll have to figure that out. But you know, when I look at these figures, I see something infinitely more valuable than an answer to that internal question “have you done something with the kids today?”.

Of course I see all the important things – spending time together, enjoying their creativity, celebrating THE best time of the year, teaching a true story about Jesus.

But I also see evidence of God’s amazing power to free someone from the prison of perfectionism.

Since becoming a mom, God has been whittling away at my perfectionist tendencies and my desperate need for control of all the things. These little clay blobs mean more to me than a thousand perfect Nativity sets. They stand for the gradual transformation from a tough to tender heart.

MY well-controlled life has become OUR beautiful, messy life.

MY orderly home has become OUR lived-in home.

MY perfect Christmas has become OUR wonderfully imperfect Christmas.

What freedom I’m finding in this brand new place!

nativity set 2016

Our Advent Jar

When my oldest was nearly 3, I wanted to do something for Advent that was more than just chocolates. We still do chocolates each day in December (usually before breakfast!), but this little craft we made has been a part of our Advent season ever since. It’s one of my favourite December breakfast traditions.

One morning in November 2013 we made little Christmas-themed characters out of construction paper.  Then, we took popsicle sticks and glued the characters onto one end, and wrote our Advent activity for that day on the other end – 8 carols to sing, 8 ways to share Jesus’ love, 8 people or things to pray for.

aj1

Love those chubby little hands!

My daughter did all the gluing (her fave!).

aj2

Somehow these have managed to stay in pretty good shape over the years.

They’re ready for the jar.

aj3

A pasta sauce jar with a crocheted bow.

Starting December 1st, we’ll pull one out each day and do what it says on the popsicle stick. It’s one simple way we will keep our eyes and hearts focussed in the right direction this holiday season.

Can’t wait to get it started!

When I Feel Most Like a Super Mom

My husband brought home two costume items on Halloween after work: a pirate hat and a cape.

I chose the cape and in true mom-fashion, took ten minutes to turn it into my tongue-in-cheek costume for the year: Supermom.

supermom 17

Hair and makeup were already done – and by done I mean not done at all. I threw on an apron with a soother pinned to the top, hand sanitizer taped to the middle, a diaper and a coffee mug in one pocket and a baby toy in the other. With a burp cloth over one shoulder, I carried my purse AND the diaper bag across my body and in the other arm, I hauled the car seat with the baby in it. The finishing touch – my shirt had real spit-up stains! Imagine that! haha! With my dollar store cape draped across my shoulders, we were off to take our kids trick-or-treating at Grandma’s house.

The costume made me laugh because it wasn’t too far off from my regular life right now – a little stressful and last-minute, with a lot of mess and imperfection and a healthy dose of mirth. We snapped a few photos to freeze the moment in time so we can look back when the kids are older and everything is different, to remember what it was like right now.

It was fun to pretend for a couple of hours, but as they usually do, things got real when we arrived back home with buckets of mini chocolate bars and gummies in hand.

Our oldest two were fighting about who would hand out candy to the other trick-or-treaters while our two year old was a puddle of tears in the middle of the living room, chocolate smeared all over her lips and the sleeves of her bunny costume. The baby, of course, was very ready to eat.

I sat down in the armchair to feed him while my husband handled the oldest two and helped the bunny into her jammies.

Supermom was gone. The apron and cape were hanging over the high chair, and it was just Super Tired Mom in her place!

There was a time in my early mom years when I couldn’t possibly be caught in a costume like that in public because it’s not perfect. In fact, there are still times when perfection threatens to steal the amazing life I have right in front of me by telling me it’s all simply not good enough.

But as I grow older, I am beginning to understand.

Here’s what I know about being a super mom:  super moms are not born, they are made. They are forged in the fires of sleep deprivation, spit up and sippy cups. They are grown from the earth tilled under by tantrums and toilet training. They are refined by the flames of daily giving yourself up for someone else and knowing deep inside that you would not have it any other way – that through this process comes real gold.

You know when I feel most like a super mom? When I survive a solo trip to the store with all four kids. When I successfully navigate the waters of crazy post-time-change behaviour without seriously losing my cool. When we can laugh together even though life is hard and we are all tired.

It has nothing to do with kids in matching outfits or a spotless bathroom. And boy am I glad!

Super moms, all of you – keep on doing what you are doing. Be open to the changes that motherhood brings to your body, your mind, your heart, your spirit, but most of all, your soul.

We carry on with hope in our hearts because we know that God makes all things beautiful in His time.