Powerless

      Saying goodbye to my kids is always a dreaded moment.  We were leaving before the morning arousals began, but they made me promise to try to wake them with a hug and kiss goodbye.  I bent over my daughter’s bed and smiled at her dreaming state and gently stroked her hair off her forehead and placed a kiss there, while in a more than gentle whisper so as to fulfill my promise of waking her, said goodbye.  Her eyes blinked slightly open and a smile crept across her face, which quickly returned back into a furrowed brow, indicating that goodbyes were no more fun to her than to me.  “We’ll be back so soon,” I replied to her concerned expression and then I moved to the next sleepy-eyed encounter.   My husband and I have wonderful opportunities to speak at different times, which are always rewarding and I consider a great blessing.  I look forward to the time away to meet new people and to hopefully bring some encouragement to them and as well, we get to see some pretty incredible places.  This weekend we were headed to Vail, CO to speak to college students there at a campus ministry retreat.  It really was one of the most beautiful places I’ve been! 

            However, Frankenstorm was also preparing a debut that would alter the promises we made to these 3 little people that we’d be home by Sunday evening.  We had such an encouraging time with the Colorado ministries.  Their faith and hospitality inspired me.  We finished the time there, keeping close tabs on the weather and airport conditions  (I think I wore down my phone screen over the corner where I continually checked the weather channel app).  We felt no concern about getting home and my son’s voice sounded assuredly more secure that we were able to be speaking about me kissing him goodnight in mere hours.  We had already checked in and were putting our bags on the luggage conveyor as the attendant there checked our tickets and quickly then told us to not have our ride leave.  All east coast flights had been cancelled.  We were not going home this night.  My heart sank.  The thought of telling my kids that though I said we would be home, we would not be.   I was powerless to change any weather pattern or airline policy (and honestly, in the split second of logical thought, I’d much rather not fly through a hurricane) and felt very far away from home.  I slumped into the car of the friends who didn’t bat an eyelash about us coming back to their home.  I was extremely grateful for their willingness to take in us vagrant wanderers, but also holding back the tears of disappointment to not see my kids.  Kevin called the kids to let them know (because I couldn’t handle it) and immediately I heard the tears.  My oldest is not the first to cry in emotional scenarios, but she broke down immediately as did my heart simultaneously.  My son was next to hear the news and had caught wind from his sister’s tears.  He wanted to talk to me and I mustered pulling it together and tried to put the pieces of my cracked voice into “strong mommy” tone.  Now, I know this must sound dramatic and perspectively speaking, things could have been enormously worse, but you can’t tell that to the inner workings of a mother’s emotional condition at moments like this.  I was depressed.  And clearly, so were my children.

            Soon enough, the power was out at home and the kids were thrilled to eat by candlelight, build forts using flashlights and carve pumpkins.   I could do nothing to be near them, but it’s at moments like these that I become very aware of how much I have to be thankful for.  In a matter of five minutes of our flight being cancelled, I had friends who were willing to drop their lives and not just begrudgingly take on the task of taking care of my, at moments very emotional kids, but eager to.  We weren’t sure when we’d get back, but we had friends who told us it would make them happy and could they please stay with our children so they could protect and encourage them.  I know I’m pretty lucky and overwhelmingly blessed to have them.  It is when I am powerless that I am most reminded of God’s power.  It’s really not up to me to decide when and where I make my next move.  Hurricanes happen.  I can plan in hope, but our lives are a mist and the sovereignty of God is just that.   Now I am sitting on a plane on my way home and I feel the anticipation of Christmas morning as I look forward to being home.   

James 4:13-15 “ Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” ¹⁴ Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. ¹⁵ Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” 

Mother-hawk eyes

Occasionally I may insert flashbacks from past mamahood moments that I'll keep preserved in the memory banks of my mind such as this one . . .

Every weekday at precisely 3:00 pm is one of my favorite recurring moments.  The car rider line of mini vans and station wagons stretches around a corner in the parking lot not visible to the eyes of the pint sized riders.  But to me, I have a VIP seat to a sight that surprisingly changes only in the details of what color dress, converse sneakers and whether it’s a braid or pony tail day.  What happens remains the same and I keep treasured  in a special corner of my heart.  The intercom blares “last call for car riders,” and miniature people start pouring out of the gates of first grade.  She walks out timidly, a turquoise tinker bell back pack half the size of her, strapped on her little frame. Nervously her eyes dart up and down the line of mommies and then not yet seeing me in her quick 30 second search she walks back to the teacher on duty and waits quietly looking straight ahead for me to find her.  Because I can’t leave the other two kids alone in the car, I begin a little wave and a moderately loud “Emma, over here!” that she never hears as her intense focus to find me overshadows what’s clearly in front of her.  As I zone in on her, as only a mother hawk can, her eyes have a shy insecurity as she twists the straps of her backpack between her fingers waiting for me to claim her. Then proceeding with a more acrobatic and enthusiastic attempt of hand waving, jumping and exertion of vocal cords, her eyes catch mine and I witness a wave of assuredness warm her soul and all insecurity melts away.  A smile erupts over her soft golden face and her olive eyes twinkle with delight.  She belongs to me and there she finds confidence.  We laugh together as I tease her that as always I am right in front of her and she just searches too hard to find me.
    Likewise, so many times I need the assuredness that God is always waiting for me.  There is never a need to wonder whether he will show up, nor whether he wants to be there to take me with him.  In fact, he is often doing acrobatics and actively exerting his energies to prove his presence to me.  Often the anxieties and  stresses in life make me look past the peace that God continually offers right in front of me.  He knows me and understands me like no one else and he looks to give me strength if I follow him.

"For the eyes of the LORD range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him."
2 Chronicles 16:9

Show me the love

    So this week has definitely brought some revelations . . .As I have said, I have three little treasures.  They are all uniquely different and wonderful.  However, Treasure #2, this week has taught me a lot about how to love uniquely.  He is my most sensitive and declares himself a mama's boy.  My husband threw his back out last week and my respect for single moms again went through the roof . . .I felt like I was managing a team, rather than being able to give specific attention and lots of encouragement.  My patience finally shipwrecked Sunday morning.  When you are married to a preacher who often has meetings before church, Sunday mornings with three kids is anything but easy . . .I never understood the thought behind the Commodores song, sigh.  Anyways, my son has the passion of his father, and let's just say their emotions far outweigh the emotions of all three of us estrogen producing ones.  It's easy for me to constantly find myself repeating, "Caleb, no" or "don't do that Caleb" or "Please stop bothering your sisters!"  He's the middle child between, a smart, always aiming to please and easy older sister and a center stage, life of the party younger one.  Now, in the middle of this birth order is the most affectionate, sensitive, "best smile in the world", makes me always feel loved, bright eyed seven year old boy, that has my heart like no other.  I've just had to learn lately to make sure he has declarative, bold affirmation that leaves no doubt in his little mind that there is any competition or question of how I feel about him.  When I do this, he shines brightly and everything good in him is exponentially visible to me and others around him.  Every night, I kiss him and hug him at least 12 times and tell him how he's my favorite son.  He always rebuts that it's only because he's my only son and then I proceed to tell him why I love him, and his face beams.   I always know and believe why I think he's so amazing, but in the daily, patience-trying moments of life, I can forget to make sure he knows that I think that.  After one of these recent nights, Emma said something not entirely encouraging to him and he was deflated.  She and I talked a few minutes later and I explained some of these things to her.  Her heart was melted and it resulted in the above note that she wrote to her brother and then was followed by a huge hug (that rather shocked him).  Her assurance and confirmation of how she really feels about him made his day (and night).
       When I think about myself, I am always in need of assurance.  Left by myself for too long, I can tell you a thousand imperfections about me and why I don't measure up.  Words of affirmation and being shown love by others puts the wind in my sails. I've had to learn to accept, that ultimately God has shown me his love in the most amazing of ways and as much as I'd like to explain away why he shouldn't, his "letters of affirmation" prove otherwise.  I can feel guilty and bad about myself enough and yet when I stop to really hear and allow myself to be shown how God feels about me, it gives me the confidence and security to actually believe it, and therefore, to revel in it.

Deut. 7:6  "The Lord your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession."

Eph. 3:17-19  "And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, ¹⁸ may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, ¹⁹ and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God."

Butterflies and messmakers

      I don’t have a big backyard, but last spring we decided to plant a “butterfly bush” because the garden center told us the kids would enjoy watching butterflies come to it.  My neighborhood is rather crowded and nature is squeezed into corners around us.  Butterflies are not swarming in the meadows of wildflowers around me.  Yet, everyday  there are at least 4-5 beautiful butterflies sipping the sweet nectar from this plant in the corner of my small backyard  and my children do watch them in wonder.  Everyday, it amazes me to see them thrive as if they were in a meadow of wild flowers.  They glory in what God has provided them.  That is what they were made to do.  This morning, they have taught me a great lesson in contentment.  Often times, I can focus on what I don’t have or what I think could be better in life.  I can look at the “bigger backyards” of those around me and get distracted by them, rather than reveling and thriving with what God has given me. 

      I was talking with my 9 year old at the end of a long day this week and slumped down on my couch surveying the damage of the day with toys, socks, shoes and half-eaten snacks strewn about everywhere after my younger two had gone to bed.  I sighed in my exhaustion, trying to muster the energy to begin to put the house back together again.  In a simple and quiet voice, Emma asked “but aren’t you glad you have us as the cause of your messes?”  I smiled and chuckled softly, putting into perspective how grateful I am for these little messmakers.   I told her I’d take a thousand times the mess that night to have the children that I have.  I may not have the space to organize the way I’d like, but my boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places.  All of us in life have things we wish were different or wish we had more of and goodness knows, America feeds us daily that we need the next and bigger new thing and that what we do and have is never enough.  1 Peter 1:3-4 ("His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. ⁴ Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires") assures me that I’ve been given everything I need in this life, which I am grateful for the reminders, that God is good enough.

Well, here goes . . .I have consistently thought about the idea of writing down my thoughts and being a mom of three, I have decided that I just live tired and my thoughts remain exactly that, thoughts.  But I love my life and feel abundantly and overwhelmingly blessed.  Don't get me wrong, I don't have a perfect life, but in the daily imperfections and the abundant blessings, I have learned a lot.  I'm thankful that there is no end to learning and often I learn so much from being the mom of the three most cherished treasures that I know. I'm hoping that by forcing myself to write down some of these thoughts, reflections and lessons that I learn from them, God and life's going-ons I can string together a textbook from some of life's greatest teachers, messmakers and smile producers, my kids.