I Want You to Be With Me All Day

“I want you to be with me all day!”

When our oldest daughter was a preschooler she would say this to me, around the time her second little sister appeared.

“But I AM with you all day,” I’d reply, laughing.

There were days when we were literally in each other’s space every moment and at bedtime, the refrain was the same. “But I want you to be with me all day!” she’d repeat.

I knew what she meant. She didn’t want me to just be there in the same house with her all day, she wanted me to stop doing whatever I was doing – be that nursing a newborn, cleaning up a potty accident, making dinner or other various household tasks – and be present with her in her moment.

It was her way of saying, “I need you mom.”

I remember being a kid and going to bed before my mom got home from her evening shift. That feeling of knowing she was out there somewhere in the world instead of safe and warm at home with me was unsettling. I always tried to stay awake until I heard that front door open and her voice sounded from the next room.

It didn’t matter what was going on around me, things were all right with the world when she was near.

Now I am the mom, and my kids want my full attention and presence. They want me to “be with them all day”, so to speak.

How often do I say the same thing to God? “I want You to be with me all day, Lord!” my heart whispers. And I wonder if He’s there.

“I AM with you,” comes the reply – through His Word. Through His beautiful created world. Through His provision.

Except He’s not whispering, He’s calling. He’s never distracted and always available.

Regardless of how we may feel today, we can be sure God is with us. Instead of “I want You to be with me all day”, let’s pray “thank You Lord that You will never leave me alone” (Hebrews 13:5b).

mom and kids

How Could He?

We sat on the soft couch in the early spring sunshine, huddled around a storybook Bible for kids.

“How could he?” she cried. Our five year old was hearing, really hearing for the first time, that God looked away from Jesus for a moment while He was on the cross.

“His own son! How could He look away from His own son?” Her bottom lip quivered and her brow sunk low. I could see tears forming behind her glasses. “Why, Mama, why did He do that?” She covered her face.

I put my arm around her. “It is very sad, isn’t it?” I said. I tried to explain how Jesus took our sin on Him, and that God couldn’t look at sin, so He had to look away. “But why did He do that?” she wailed.

She wasn’t asking for the theological explanation.

She was asking why it had to happen like this – why even the Father left Jesus utterly alone.

At our house, Easter always brings out the toughest questions about why Jesus had to die and how He could take away all of our sins. It’s this strange mix of egg hunts and execution, bunnies and burial cloths. And then, the great exhale of wonderful relief when we learn that Jesus, who was once dead, has come back to life again.

We live in this tension between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.

We suffer the fallen nature of the world and the effects of sin while we await the glorious fulfillment of His promise of eternal life.

In the between time, we work to stay faithful to Him and build His kingdom in a world with a kingdom of its own, the kind that shouts you are a dangerous fool if you believe in anything other than the tangible and material, if you stand for something other than yourself, if you entrust your life to Someone instead of your emotions and feelings.

“In this world you will have trouble – but take heart, I have overcome the world!” – Jesus (John 16)

Jesus, as we remember Your sacrifice and victory this Easter weekend, let us be strengthened by the Holy Spirit to worship You in the face of doubt and questions. Let those questions and struggles remind us that while we don’t know everything, You do. And that is precisely why we bow in worship -You are God, Your love is unchanging, and You will never forsake us.

Jesus Storybook Bible

Image: “The Jesus Storybook Bible”, Sally Lloyd-Jones/Jago

I’m Typing With One Hand

Frozen mornings and warm afternoons.

March sunshine is powerful here. It melts away a landscape full of snow and cold, and brings the hope that one day soon it really will be a new season.

These sunny days are a balm for winter-weary souls. We are the hearty, the strong Canadian kind who look forward to snowstorms and can’t wait to play outside. But come March, even we long for the tradition of swatting mosquitoes around the campfire.

I am learning this simple truth: there is beauty in every season.

Winter’s frigid cold brings pastel skies and pale sunshine that makes the air sparkle with diamond dust.

Spring holds the beauty of birdsong and budding trees and flowers.

Summer’s heat grows our gardens and offers us long, warm evenings to play in.

Fall’s glorious colour is a second Spring of sorts, and its crisp air refreshes our senses.

Every year we receive these blessings without fail.

In my life I tend to see the glaring difficulties of the season I am in. And in my haste to focus on the negative, I sometimes miss the little lovely moments that really make this season beautiful. This morning, for the very first time in her seven years of life, our oldest daughter, our early riser, sleepily asked me to “wake her up in ten minutes”.  I got to kiss my husband and we laughed together before he left for work. I have a small silky-headed boy in my arms, gnawing on my shoulder, chattering away, slowly tuckering himself out for a nap. And the middle two girls are currently wrapped up in a world of their imaginings, creating a story out of thin air and random household objects.

I kiss my boy’s chubby little cheek, knowing that before long, he will be right in the middle of all if it, running to keep up with the big kids.

I’m typing with one hand. It is taking me three times as long this way, but I don’t mind.

This is the beauty in my season – all the ordinary moments that are extraordinary to me.

Bluebird sky

A Bluebird Sky in March – my view from the backyard.

Seeing with “Grandma Eyes”

I wrote this when my first two daughters were just 3 and 1, in Spring 2014. These memories are so close to my heart! And I still wish I had “Grandma Eyes”, but I know that it often takes the passing of the years to bring the important things of life into sharper focus.

***

I came across a photo this evening from my trip to Tanzania nearly six years ago.

woman in tanzania

She was waiting for treatment outside an HIV clinic in one of the villages we visited.  I have no idea what happened to her.

In fact, I had forgotten about her until I saw this.

She said it was okay for me to take her picture.  I was grateful.  I never thought that six years later I’d look back on it and wonder if she was still alive.

Six years.

We spend our lives wrapped in the small moments.  Then suddenly something from the past appears to remind us that time waits for no one.

I was thinking about what happens every night at bedtime at our house:

“Mom.  MOM!  MOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!”

I enter the darkness and lean down over her little pink and yellow bed.  “Yes?” I whisper, and kiss her little plump cheek.

“There’s one thing I want you to do for me.”

“What?”

“Ummmm…” (quickly thinking of something) “…can you turn up the story?”

“Sure sweetheart.”  I move the volume button on the iPod dock one notch up so she can hear the story-on-tape a little better.

“Thanks Mama.”

“You’re welcome sweetheart.  Goodnight.”  I lean down for another kiss on her cheek, and stroke her hair.  “Time for sleeping.”

And then a cry from the other room, and a little one who just wants to throw one arm around my neck and rest her sweet head on my shoulder with her pint-sized stuffed Snoopy tucked under the other arm – the perfect position for the night.

Absolutely THE best.  And I slowly set her down with a kiss on her squishy cheek.

And then I stand up from the sides of their beds, and suddenly she’s three and she’s one and here we go into month 4 of another year.  My half-birthday has come and gone, and we’re nearing Easter celebrations.

Wasn’t it just Christmastime?

I’ve often said I wish I could see these moments with “Grandma Eyes” – with the wisdom and perspective of all those wonderful women who have gone before me.  The ones who know better than anyone that they sure do grow up fast, so don’t sweat the small stuff (and there is ALOT more small stuff than you realize, young mama!).

I look again at the woman above.

Time is short.

We must make the most of the moments, because the milestones come faster than we realize.

Oh Lord Jesus, help me savour the sweetness instead of sighing with heaviness.  Give me even just a glimpse of life through Grandma Eyes!

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

 

Ringing Out in the Middle of It All

This morning at breakfast the kids and I prayed, “Thank you Jesus for today, and please help us to remember that our real joy is found in You.”

It’s something that I am learning in this season of life where there are so many things waiting to make me forget.  Lack of sleep from a night-waking baby and early-waking kids. It’s winter, so someone is either getting sick, currently sick, or just getting over being sick. The kids bicker and fight. My plans go awry. The tap starts leaking. The van breaks down. Messes are made, stress grows, frustrations mount and tempers flare. We grow tired of waiting for things to improve and begin to believe things will always be this way.

And then, ringing out in the middle of it all – “Joy to the world, the Lord is come! Let earth receive her King! Let every heart prepare Him room, and heaven and nature sing!”

Can it be so? Can we really find joy in the middle of even this? I am beginning to discover this sweet truth – the more I dwell on Jesus as my real joy, the more buoyant my spirit is becoming, even in the face of plain ol’ day-to-day challenges.

I am catching glimpses of His glory right here in the middle of the ordinary: the belly laughs of my kids, my husband’s hand on my shoulder as we pass each other in the kitchen, the sun that streams through the front window during these very short days, the glow of the stars in the long evenings and nights. So many beautiful things – such incredible reminders that God is good, and God keeps His promises – bringing everlasting joy to our hearts in the gift of a tiny baby, His only Son.

On Sunday we’ll light the Advent candle of joy. As we prepare our hearts to celebrate the first coming of Jesus, may it remind us that we can rejoice in HIM, and in every opportunity to rely on His power in our weakness.

Let these words from 1 Peter be a beautiful balm to your weary soul. REJOICE – the King has come!

1 Peter 1:3-9 (NIV)

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

Yes! Lord Jesus, as we celebrate your first coming, may we await your Second coming with great joy in our hearts!

christmas cookies

Sharing cookies always brings a smile!

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!

Getting Out of Holiday Survival Mode

angel chimes

(Image: pinterest)

When I was a little girl, my mom had a set of these Angel Chimes that astounded me every single year. How could the angels spin when you lit the four small white candles below? Must be magic.

I loved November 12th. The local radio station flipped to all Christmas music the day after Remembrance Day, and sometime that week, we’d haul out our four foot artificial tree, pop it on the corner coffee table, and fill it with those vintage Christmas lights with the plastic star-shaped reflectors that required an ER visit if you ever stepped on one with your bare foot. Oh, and gold garland from years ago. Then came all sorts of handmade and store-bought ornaments, one on every branch. The moss-haired raffia angel sat at the top, and the tree always had way too much silver tinsel.

After church on Christmas Eve, we stayed up late and ate so many treats. Some years we’d get to sleep in the living room under the lights of the tree, and woke up while it was still dark to open our stockings. We ate chocolates and mandarin oranges for breakfast, and once everyone made it to the living room, we read the Christmas story and took turns opening our presents.

We weren’t well-to-do by any means, but my mom always made sure Christmas was special for us kids. She brought the holidays to life and always focussed on the reason we celebrate – Jesus!

I love traditions and I look forward to them each year. They are anchors, keeping us connected to our roots and giving us warmth and familiarity in the middle of the changes of life. When my husband and I first got married we had to sort through two sets of holiday traditions. Now that we have our own kids, we’re building our own family memories that we hope they will one day cherish. In these early years with young children, Christmas feels different than it used to. At first, that was difficult for me and I’ve allowed the stress to cloud my joy, but I’m learning how to get out of “holiday survival mode” and actually enjoy this season together.

We’ve made three major shifts in the past few years, and it’s been amazing. Here they are, in no particular order.

Make like Elsa and “let it go”.

I’ve shared before that I like things to be “just so”. All the ducks need to be lined up perfectly in order for me to be able to enjoy all the things. The ducks seem to have a mind of their own, though, and rarely fall in! With a great sigh of relief, I’m learning to choose life over perfection. Can I just say that it is beautiful?

Less is more.

Last year we left some of our decorations in the box. We researched our gifts before we went shopping and finished most of it before the beginning of December. We sat down ahead of time and chose our family Christmas activities, with room in the schedule for a splash of spontaneity (and the inevitable sick day). We said no to some of our regular traditions in favour of creating new ones. There was room to breathe, and that made all the difference for me.

Worship the King!

Every year I have to decide what Christmas is going to be about for me, and in turn for our family. Kindness is important. So is generosity. But these flow out of our worship of Jesus Christ, the King of Kings! It seems like it should come so easily because we hear it so often – O Come Let Us Adore Him. Jesus is the Reason for the Season. Keep Christ in Christmas. Look for the Cross on the Cradle. And yet, slogans don’t work in our hearts the way the Holy Spirit does. I’ve found Christmas to be one of my favourite times to dig deeper into the Word and life of Jesus and discover Him drawing near to me, finding His love all over again. In that, I can’t help but weave worship into the fabric of our family’s celebrations! In the big and the small, when things work out and when they don’t, I am praying that my kids would see Jesus.

My husband and I have agreed: in this season, we’re in what we call “Parent Christmas” mode. We don’t need big Christmas surprises from one another – we really just want to watch our kids squeal with delight and see the wonder in their eyes. Thankfully, it doesn’t have to come at great financial cost, with overloaded schedules and a bad case of the gimmies.

Praise the Lord that we can trust Him to redeem the Christmas season!

And that doesn’t cost a dime.

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.

Must Be Halloween Again

pumpkin

Ah yes, my annual struggle.

Every year my prayer is the same:  Jesus, give me wisdom!

I took the kids for a walk in the fall sunshine the other day and on the way home I forgot that we were coming down the street with the Creepy Halloween House. When we’re in the van I can usually count on moving past so quickly that the kids don’t really see all the super scary stuff, but when you’re walking at a toddler’s pace you really can’t avoid it. Oh I tried, believe me.

“Hey girls, look at that silly bird walking around on that grass over there!” There was a magpie on the lawn across the street. It worked for about five seconds. Then I lost them.

“Mama! What is THAT?!” My four year old asked, pointing at the house.

“Well, it looks like some Halloween decorations, but we don’t really need to look at them,” I said.

“Why not?”

“They’re a little bit too creepy.”

“Yeah,” my 6 year old agreed. For her, the novelty of certain types of seasonal decor has worn off. But for my 4 year old, it’s irresistible.

“That IS creepy! But it doesn’t scare me!” she cried. “Let’s play Halloween characters! I’m a ghost! Booooooo!”

In spite of her feelings about scary decorations, my 6 year old joined in immediately and for the next half-hour they ran around the back yard together pretending to be Halloween characters and imagining a world where “Chickens Running Around with Their Heads Cut Off” was their favourite comedy TV show.

Later, I asked them why they like to play spooky characters.

My 4 year old answered, “First, they’re not very scary for me. Secondly, I think they’re cool.” (She actually said, “secondly”! haha!)

“Really?” I asked. “Aren’t you a tiny bit scared?”

“Nope,” she continued with confidence, “If I just saw something spooky to me, I would just stick my tongue out at it.”

“Oh really,” I said. The next day as we drove in the van, the story changed. We were talking about some Halloween thing they had seen out the window and my 4 year old spoke up.

“Well, some Halloween things are NOT scary for me, but some Halloween things ARE scary for me,” she explained. “Like, the cartoony things aren’t, but the spooky things are. I do NOT like those witches at the neighbour’s house, they are too creepy for me. Yep, too creepy. But that big Frankenstein is so funny!”

I totally get why Halloween is so interesting when you’re a little kid. It’s impossible not to be fascinated, especially with all the huge inflatable lawn decorations nowadays. The Halloween House next door is their favourite. The kids are really drawn to the ten-foot-tall Frankenstein and a set of inflatable jack o’lanterns that look like a little pumpkin family, a spider in a top hat, a dragon they’ve named “Dragula”, two big white ghosts with lights and a REALLY tall pumpkin reaper we’ve named “Pumpkin Guy”.  Those characters have really sparked their imagination! But Creepy Halloween House has presented a new set of challenges.

For the first time, it’s actually scary to them.

As a Christian, I’ve always struggled with Halloween because of the evil and fear associated with it, and I will do my best to keep those kinds of things away from my kids whenever I can. But I know they’re growing up and we’re moving from being fascinated with the silly inflatable Halloween characters on the lawn next door to genuinely scary moments for them as they come in contact with certain images.

After six years of Halloween with young children, I’m realizing that despite all my efforts to shield their eyes, they’re going to see the awful decorations in the neighbourhood or at the store. Or hear about horror movies from their friends at school. Or happen to catch a glimpse of a billboard with a creepy clown on it as we drive down the street.

And even though I would rather protect them from all of it so they never had to feel afraid in their lives, I’m realizing that these are opportunities to have some really important big-picture conversations about feelings and fears and good and evil and Who is bigger than it all.