My husband has taken my man-child to the curriculum night at Mauldin High. Only one of us could go. Why ? Well, that’s simple… the other two children are like two little baby wild animals when you put them together. They start out playing, but soon enough there is bloodshed.  Anyways, I let Thomas have the honor of taking Adam.  It’s killing me.  I want to know every word that is being said…I want to help him pick his electives, you know, in other words, be my usual controlling, overbearing , and yet, lovable, self.  Oh well. Fact is, it’s my job to be the mommy to these little ones, too. They really need me. It is evident every single day.  Their spirit’s still need mother’s milk,  so to speak.  And so, I accept the call.

The word disciple has been ringing in my head for several days now,  and I know full well that as a mother, my first ministry is to my children. That is my way of becoming a disciple of Jesus Christ….to first practice HIS patience, His prayer, His power, and His healing….here, at home, with these ….the little wild animals that I am raising.  If I can’t minister here, to them…where else, how else ??  It’s not the most glamorous, and many days, here lately, I’ve questioned if I can finish this race. And then I am reminded, in some crazy way…about his grace, and the limitless amount that I have been given. I am also reminded of a word spoken over me, by a dear friend…that I am GLAMOROUS in the spirit, and I roll around in that,  especially when I am feeling particularly ugly…it helps.  So, while man-child, and Thomas listen to the counselors advise, I will….clean the dishes, do laundry, snuggle with, and pray for little lion boy, and little big blue-eyed girl. I will speak to their spirits while they think I am listening to their funny stories. And I will come a step closer to the disciple that I want to be.

One who embraces and assists in spreading the teachings of another. b. An active adherent, as of a movement or philosophy…..disciple.

I am attending a women’s group , and much to my surprise, my spirit is being shaken, and stirred. It’s a simple concept. We listen to a podcast, literally, we just sit and listen.  For some of us, it might be the first settled moment of the day.  We spend time journaling. This is right up my ally…except for the fact, that the fearless leader of the class wants us to put pen to paper without premeditation, she wants us to write, and write until the overflow of our hearts comes out on paper.  I love writing this blog, but I can assure you, there are many drafts.  It’s so much harder to just let it go, write every word that comes to your mind, and watch your heart unfold as you do.  During both classes I’ve heard great things from the Lord, things worth sharing….but my stinky flesh would not have it. I’m working on it, it just feels so vulnerable. Last night we spent some time on  self-righteousness, and much to my dismay I realized that all my worry, and stress are just that. Self-righteousness…relying on myself, refusing to let it go, white knuckling the issues that concern me. We asked the Holy Spirit to point out one such area to each of us, that we might let it go, and get some break through, let it go, and put on the righteousness of GOD, rather than our own, which I now know is like filthy rags. Thank you very much, I don’t want to wear filthy rags, I want to SHINE like the beauty He says I am. So I Listened….. and below I’m going to write, word for word,  what the Lord said. I didn’t lift my pen off the paper, I just wrote until I was done. Here goes….

of course, it’s Isaiah, it’s always Isaiah. You worry, you pray, you cry, you sing, you ask, and then you beg. But you DON’T stop worrying. You grieve as if he is dead, he is not. Isaiah is alive, and I know him, I hold him.

    you don’t trust me with this treasure, but who do you think gave him to you ? I am your help in ALL things , daughter listen to me…step into peace where your son is concerned. Step into peace about his emotional needs, step into peace about his physical needs, his ears, too… step into peace about his spirit, and his heart. Peace is mine, and it is yours. Receive  what you have asked for. Let me get past you, so that I can give it to you. Step out of your own understanding, and into peace.

I know I should have shared this in the class, but it was fresh, and and the Lord had shaken up my way of thinking, so this will have to do for now. Today has been good, and true to his word…peaceful.

For six years I have been in a battle. It has left me wounded, bloody, exhausted, and at times broken wide open. The battle to get my youngest son (10) to go to school. It ended today. I raised the white flag of surrender. I will homeschool him for the remainder of this year. We will work on trusting each other, we will rest, and heal. He, too has been bloodied in this battle.  And so… no more walking on eggshells every morning, no more ignoring the needs of my other children just because this one can tear me apart, no more waiting for the phone call from the school….

It is yet to be determined what caused this child of mine to hate school so much, as far as I can tell it started in pre-school.  I have been unwilling to lose this battle.  The cost has been huge.  Anger, and resentment,  fear of man,  and fear of child…those are my burdens.  My son’s burdens have been even heavier,  shame and lack of confidence have crippled him at times. His anger, like mine…bubbles, just under the surface, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of it.  It is like wounded animals that we fight, both of us. And so…we are licking our wounds, the world be damned, we are doing what is best for us.  And that means peace, it means…surrender to the voice of truth, the one who loves my son even more than I do. It means being willing to lose this battle, but save the heart of my son.  He is mine for a little while, at least. And whatever comes…I get to love him through it.

Sometimes here, on planet Earth,  I think we are hardest on the ones we love.  Especially our kids, husbands too.  I find myself requiring so much of my kids. Because I WANT so much for them. I know my Father feels the same for me, and yet in HIS kingdom all things are upside down. He is watching, and planning things for me…but instead of putting the pressure on me to live up to my potential, HE is encouraging, carrying me, taking my burdens, and making my load seem lighter, not heavier. Hmmm. Is it possible that I can turn my household upside down ? Can I lighten the load my kids carry, and will it turn their hearts toward obedience ? It’s worth a try.

Thomas went out of town this week for work, it was only one night, but somehow things crumble around here when he is gone. I sort of sat around whining for a while , feeling sorry for myself that the kids were not listening to me. And then I felt sorry for Thomas that he is not married to someone stronger, who can handle these kids without him. Eventually, I got it together. Pretty much after they were in bed, I got it together. The point is…the Lord gave me a clear and decisive word for Thomas about why things start to get shaky when he is gone. He said…Your husband is a load bearing wall in the structure that is your home. Well…if you knew how many times I have said to my husband, can we take this wall out ? Just to have him say, no, and explain the importance of the load bearing walls. You would know that God speaks to us so gently,  and with such knowledge of who we are…its just amazing. It’s like we each have our own language with him. The word that he gave encouraged both Thomas, and I. We have roles to play in this story, and they are both lead roles, but they are very different.

I guess the point that I am making is that we have a language that we can share with our kids, too. Who knows them better than us ? We just have to take the time , make the time, to find out what the language is that they respond to. No two are alike. Just like snowflakes. So turn your kingdom upside down, instead of being hardest on the ones you love…ease up, find their language, and speak it.

roots3rd person singular present, plural of root

peculiar.

pe·cu·liar (p -ky l y r). adj. 1. Unusual or eccentric; odd. 2. Distinct from all others.  Each one of my children fits this definition.  Little lion-boy takes up a whole lot of my blog space, mainly because we are in the thick of some growing pains, and strains right now. He ran away from school last week. Ran all the way home. …where he proceeded to fall in a heap, crying in my entry way.  Following close behind…school officials.  There are tons of sordid details to this saga, but all that matters is the incredible strength of character it showed for him to go back.  He went back today.  To a new class, with a new teacher.  I don’t think I could have done it , hell…I’ve run from women’s bible study for years.  I am truly a student of this child,  he teaches me every day… if I am willing to learn.

Two nights ago, little big blue-eyed girl and I had words at bed time. First angry words, and then true words. Words about how nobody is perfect, and how blessed we are, words about how it’s my job to guide, and sometimes correct. Imagine my surprise when she pulled her diary out from beside the bed, opened it, and began to read it aloud to me. Sweet words about what mommies do. Now anyone reading this who has, or has been,  an almost 12 year old girl,  knows….that was peculiar. And lovely.

There are more children, and more stories,  I think I will leave those for another post. I said something this morning to the Lord, and I want to repeat it here…. Perfect love casts out all fear, then Lord, please make your love clear. I prayed, and then I worshipped. I stood in the kitchen, and sang these words ….like diamonds we shine against the sheet of night, the jet black sheet of night, we overtake the cityscape…..we break but we don’t die….that’s how I feel about my kids today.  And love , that’s how I feel about LOVE today.  They shine so bright against the dark that this world can be, and as humans,  we do break . We break,  but because of LOVE…we don’t die.http://j.mp/sheetofnight

    Hope is alive. It is breathing in and out.  It watches you.  It is growing,  and getting stronger.  Hope sits around the breakfast table , and holds your hand on the couch. Hope makes you giggle like a little girl,  and believe in happy endings.  Hope asks you to dance , even though there is no music.  Hope takes hard times, and turns them into …adventures! Hope inspires you to love,  and to be loved, to know, and be known.  Hope is a game changer . And it’s coming for you, my friend.

Not always a bad thing. Woke up feeling pretty bad, and sad, and mad….you get the picture. It’s been a hard week.  I asked for help, from the only TRUE place that help comes from, and He directed me to Psalm 91. So cliché ? I don’t think so.

Here is  what He says….As for you, Angie and Isaiah…stand in my shadow, I will rescue you from the ones who choose to hurt you, and the destruction that ensues. I will shelter you with my wings. Isaiah has always loved feathers, he collects them, he researches them….oh, the inner workings, and knowledge of the spirit. Even the spirit of a little boy. There is no need to be afraid in the dark of night, or in the trials of the day, because you trust me, and stand in my shadow. I will rescue you, and I will answer when you call, because you are devoted to me.

And so, even now, when I am so angry at the school, and at the ones who are supposed to protect, and teach…I am running for the shadowlands, and the protection that I am promised. I am waiting for the rescue that is mine and Isaiah’s.  It might not look like what I think it should, but I know that it is coming.

happy birthday little lion boy.  Few things, or people bring me as much joy as you do. And there is something about your hands, they are strong, and gentle at the same time…you get that from daddy.   You are complicated, but aren’t we all ? You are funny, and altogether charming. Even when you try to go your own way (much to my dismay)…your cleverness is impressive.

Perhaps I am a little too in love with you, maybe just a little hesitant to accept that you are double digits now…I don’t know. The time is just going so fast.  I  thank God for you.

So go. Go play your boy games of war, and destruction….hide and seek, and flashlight army. When you need me , I will be here. Waiting….love always, mommy.

Good morning 2012. Those of you, (the faithful five) that follow this blog might remember that I have written about this before.  The damned haircut.  Sighing here.  Adam wanted his haircut before he went back to school, he is starting the civil air patrol, and wanted to neaten up.  Fine, shouldn’t be a problem. I use the clippers with the longest guard, short, but not shaved.  Good.  Until…Isaiah decides that he wants to be just like Adam, and get his hair cut, too.  Having experienced this before, I tried to say no. It’s too late at night, give it a couple of days, see if you still want to do it…and so on. I have terrible memories of the last time I cut his hair, he refused to go to school the next day, and I felt horrible. Like I should have known that he would hate the change, even though he asked for it. Bad mother syndrome was EPIC. It took us both a couple of days to recover from that one. So last night…I should have known better. But, my son, wouldn’t take no for an answer, he insisted, and so I cut it,  just the same as I cut Adam’s.

This morning, he wouldn’t get out of bed. He wouldn’t talk at first, just the growls, and groans, that I am all too familiar with. I wish that I could do an adequate job of describing the feeling that comes over me when I realize that I am in for a school morning fight. It’s like laying in a river with a rock on my chest, there is a moment of hopelessness before I pull it together, and give it up to the only one who can really take it. Just as this transition was taking place inside me, Isaiah came down the stairs. There was a blanket over his head, and he laid in a heap , covered up. But there was hope. He had come down .  Somewhere in there his SPIRIT was taking authority over his emotions.  This made me realize he really is growing up.  He came into the bathroom, still covered, still angry at me…that I had done this to him, that it was too short. I must have tricked him, cut his hair shorter than Adam’s…. He finally gave in, let me put gel in it. At this point, I knew there was a good chance that he would go to school, but I was still a little hurt myself, from all the accusations, and I refused to coddle him. He got dressed, and ate breakfast, he kissed me and said goodbye. He got into our car, as his Daddy looked on in amazement, he went to school. He will be 10 on Thursday, lion boy is becoming a man….one day at a time.

Same fight, different year…victory.  Through Jesus, our spirits have been given authority over our will, our souls, and our emotions…Miracles happen every day.