The past couple of months have been rough with little lion boy. Good, but rough. More emotional outbursts, more of the words…I hate you, and more tears on my part. We are homeschooling, which takes the pressure of going to school off of him. On the flip side, it puts a ton of pressure on me. Pressure to teach him what he is required to know for 6th grade, pressure to do it right. Sometimes I forget that there is no one standing in the shadow waiting to tell me that I am not doing enough, or doing it wrong. So I have not been the most flexible with our schedule, the Lord really brought that to my attention last night as I prayed for wisdom during, yet another, emotional outburst from my son. The Lord also brought up the fact that with our new business,( and new puppy too) that we had been preoccupied, and not giving enough attention to little lion boy. It’s been the holiday season, every kid has had parties, plans…issues. Which has lead to impatience, aggravation, and whining. and that was the grown ups ! Fast forward to yesterday with me in bed, praying…asking what can I do ? What am I missing ? So simple. I heard it loud and clear. My little lion looks strong, and brave, but in fact after so many years of battling school anxiety, administrators, parents expectations, try this and try that strategies, no gluten, no sugar…fish oil….He is dry, and brittle. The least little request, or criticism sets him off. It’s no wonder, that’s a lot to deal with. So… we are specifically setting aside the next 6 weeks to pour oil onto this little lion, to watch what happens when we say- the job, the friends, the activities, and yes…even the homeschool, it all comes second to filling him up. Moisturizing, and bringing back to life the places that have become so brittle from the battles.
Tag Archives: parenting
Season, reason for the season, seasoning, salted with fire….and so on.
Tis the season….to be jolly, to be tired, to be overwhelmed and exasperated. Tis the season to be…amazed, to be hopeful, to be childlike and blissfully innocent. Tis the season… to be tested, to be insulted, to be hurt and healed. Tis the season… to sing, to dance, to cry and to worship. Tis the season…to love and be loved. You can sing those words if you like, I can’t hear you.
Every Christmas season, I find myself writing about Mary. How could I resist ? The subject, the story…is just so delicious, and dangerous all at once . I know she was scared, and I know she was full of faith that this rocky road was hers alone to travel. A destiny that she would not deny . A beautiful baby, a cross to bear. Unrestrained love, and unspeakable pain. One in the same. Motherhood ….magnified.
As I sit and type, I want you to know…I am a mother. I have given life, and I have spoken truth, I have guided gently, and I have spoken as sharp as a knife. I have loved honestly, and with my whole heart…shattered at times. And even when I think that I cannot take any more, God keeps picking up the pieces and putting them back together in this mosaic work of art….work of the heart (ha !) So Mary…I lift you high, and I think on you during this season of Christmas, and during the hard seasons of mothering.
Birthday boy.
Good morning love. I went to sleep thanking God for trusting me to be your mom, and I woke up doing the same thing. As a newborn baby you had these giant shoulders, a foreshadowing of the man you would become. I could never have guessed how strong, or how honorable, or how sweet you would be. It’s been my joy to know you, squeeze you, pick you up and drive you around…. All of it, I count as joy. I think that’s pretty remarkable. The last 16 years went by in the blink of an eye. Can you slow down now please? Can we just go look at fire trucks for your birthday? Seriously , thank you for holding my hand in public, for opening doors for me, for… Honoring me. You are a great big chunk of my heart. Happy Birthday!
To my kids…
I will hold onto you until it is uncomfortable for us both. I will tell you when you are wrong, but I will SHOUT when you are right. I will listen to you with my spirit along with my ears. I will study you, find out what makes you tick, what upsets you, and what brings you crazy happiness. I will sneak around, and hide presents on your birthday, and Christmas. I will get up before you on those days , and sit with my camera aimed, just to catch a glimpse of your joy. I will nurse you when you are sick, and pick you up when you fall. I will talk funny, tell jokes, stand on my head…if it will make you laugh. I will cry, I will pray, I will go to battle against everyday enemies and lies that come against you. I will walk through fire to get to you. I will nag you about grades, and manners, and kindness, and the fruit on your trees. All because you have been entrusted to me. I will kiss you on the lips until you ask me to stop, I will hold your clothes up to my nose even though you don’t smell like babies anymore. I will look into your eyes while you are telling me that story from class today, I will be listening, but also blessing your spirit…with all that you are, and all that God calls you. You will pretend not to notice the tug on your heart as our spirits touch. But I will know. I will watch you grow, and try to hang on loosely. I love you all so much.
Almost grown on my own girl – you have a daughter now, I hope that you will see how heavy the love can be. Having that butter bean is the bravest , most valiant thing you have done yet. She has changed all of us. I could not love either of you any more if you had come right through me.
Man child- you are the truest young man I have ever met. You go ALL IN. You love with everything you have. You would be the one to run into a burning building to save others. It’s who you have always been.
Little big blue eyed girl – I love your joy, I drink it in, just like I breathe in your hair at bedtime. You love me well, and I am grateful. You impact people, it’s a privilege, and a responsibility, but you handle it with grace.
Little Lion Boy- You are my baby, who is not a baby. You love on me with a fierceness that surprises me. Your hands are the softest, and strongest al at the same time. You are a contradiction. You keep me on my toes. Your love of justice encourages me. You wage wars on your fears and it amazes me. Love you so.
That is all. If you didn’t know it already, you are all my treasures.
Lessons in love…
It is only now that I am composed enough to write about my week. My daughter had a baby. Yeah, that one has to sink in. I expected to be emotional, and to cry, and to feel an enormous amount of love for my new granddaughter….and I did. What caught me off guard was the enormous love that I felt toward my daughter. It rushed in like a wave and swept me under. I have had the incredible urge to swaddle her up like a baby and hold her. I have no idea if this is normal or not. It is one of the strangest sensations, and yet…I like it. I cannot claim that the beauty Layla has comes from me, her button nose, and little rosebud lips….not mine. However, I would love to think that the amazing job that Sidney is doing as a new mommy has filtered down through me. She is doing so great, and is in love with that sweet little bean. So even though I heard someone say- oh she isn’t her real mom , in reference to me ( those words stung like a bee, FYI), the Lord whispered something very comforting to me. Love cannot be inherited, only offered and accepted. I have learned this week that love cannot be too early, or too late .
Memorial Stones
You call us to walk into territory that is not our own….we ask, we pray, maybe we cry…we fear. And then you lift our chins so that we can see what is before us, there you are, there it is….again. You have carried us through, and delivered us.
Twelve stones you say, a memorial display …for our children, and our children’s children, a story to tell , words and memories of how we nearly fell. And when they ask how me made it , how we overcame…we will point them to you.
In Joshua 4, the Lord tells the Israelites to pick out 12 stones and carry them from place to place , and then to lay them down in each place where they made camp. The Lord delivers them again and again. He tells them that the stones will be a memorial for their children to see what HE had done. I am wondering today….do you have stones laid down, placed so that your children can see how the Lord delivers you, carries you through your struggles big, and small ? It seems important , our testimonies, not just for the lost, or for strangers, but for our kids…the generations that coming behind us. Memorial stones….think about it.
Parenting.
I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying not to shout. Over complicate, over simplify ? All I know for sure is that it changes everyday. Lead with love ? Yes, try to. Accept all the bull that kids try to throw at you ? No. They have been robbed, born to parents who were robbed…broken world, you get the picture. The goal, as I see it…would be to figure out what was stolen from you … the parent, and then lean into getting it back. There will be a price, but it will be worth it to be wholehearted. With your heart whole and your eyes focused on the kingdom of God in the present tense , you (and by you, I mean me) will be able to fight for your kids, and help them figure out what is missing , their birthright, peace and joy…fullness. It’s my first mission to be wholehearted, and second to parent my kids. Sometimes my husband talks about going somewhere adventurous, and I make it my business to remind him that we are in treacherous terrain everyday ! We are navigating through puberty, modesty, honoring, academics, sports, thirst and hunger of the spirit, not just the body, and an enemy that wants to eat us all alive. (my dramatic nature is not what I have robbed of, as you can see) Landmines are cleverly disguised as normal teenage life. It’s no joke.
It’s been a long time since I’ve written, there are a ton of legitimate reasons, but the only one that matters is that I did not want to sound desperate, life has thrown a few curve balls at us, and I had to process on my own for a while. It is a new season for us. I am excited, but wise enough to know that even now, during their independent years… my kids need guidance, they need me to be wholehearted so that I can be powerful in my prayers for them. It’s hard to parent from a place of brokeness. It makes us cry out in desperation instead of leaning into God, and trusting him. I have been crying this morning, and for too many years. I am ready to lean.
Chapters…..
Thomas is opening a gun store and indoor shooting range. Wow. This man of mine is persistent when it comes to pursuing his dreams, and calling God on his word to rebuild, and renew visions and ideas for our family. It is a new chapter in the novel that is our lives. Manchild is learning to drive, and has a girlfriend. Little big blue eyed girl is deeply in the throes of adolescence with a tongue that can turn from honey to vinegar at a moments notice, I never actually got out of this stage, so you can see the dilemma. Seriously, she is stretching around in her cocoon, I can see it moving, and changing. I know that the butterfly getting ready to come out will be dazzling. I would be lying to you all if I said this is an easy time. I always said that I couldn’t stand the thought of the kids growing up, but now I can see what I was afraid of was them growing AWAY. That isn’t going to happen. Little lion boy is finishing up his school year strong, had the famous hygiene field trip of fifth grade today ! He is so eager for sixth grade, and to start HIS next chapter. Hope. I can see it in him. And then of course, we must not forget almost grown on my own girl…wonder when I will stop calling her that ? She is having a baby girl. Yeah, it’s hard to wrap my mind around, luckily, my heart has already grasped it, and can’t wait ! I sat there in the ultra sound room, and as they revealed the gender, I was just overwhelmed at the thought, the promise that God restores lost years, and he mends broken hearts. Thomas and I have been joking a lot about what our grandparent names will be, and this afternoon I sat out on the deck just daydreaming about what was coming, and what I will be called, and very clearly I heard God say – My name is love…and my hands are called tenderness, they reach across desserts, and the deepest pits. My thoughts toward you are as deep as the ocean floor, and as wide as the sky, you are always on my mind. My heart, it burns as hot as the sun for you. From the moment you were created, until all time is done …….I will pursue, and protect you. You are my beloved little girl, and I am your GOD.
I wrote it down, and I asked Abba, is this for my granddaughter ? He answered, ” Yes, and for your daughters, and for your mother, and your sisters, and Angie…its for you.”
The Wheels on the bus.
It was cold. It was gray, and in general dreary. But behind my glass door I stood in great anticipation….for the school bus. Listening…until, there it was, unmistakable in its effort to get up the hill by our house. It had been seven long months since I had gone to work full-time , and seven long months since I had watched Isaiah get off the bus. And then I saw him step down, monster back pack on his back, he usual hoodie . At this point, much to my embarrassment, I started to cry. I pulled myself together by the time he reached the porch. I tried to hug him, he tried to act like he was too big for that. We did our dance. Had snacks, talked about his day. As he chattered away, all I could hear was the sound of my own heart. My heart song. It sounded like …joy. Joy to be back in this place, my nest, present in the little details that at times, seem insignificant, but aren’t.
Working moms , I salute you. You don’t do less, you do MORE , you put yourself last, and then you wake up early, and do it all over again. I feel so blessed to have experienced life outside of my home, and so blessed to be finished with that season…for now. In the end, we all learned a lot. I was obedient, my kids, and husband saw that. Sometimes, it takes a whole family to make a house run, and most of all….that I am capable of more than I was giving myself credit for.
We are ready to start our next adventure….with a bang ! Hint, hint.
heart strings.
Pulled tight, sound sharp.
stretched to the limit with too much give.
Is there a happy medium ? I would like to say – since going back to work, but that would not be accurate. So, I will say, since becoming a mother, my heartstrings are always out of whack. Or out of tune, or maybe that’s the way they are supposed to sound. I’m home today. Isaiah had his fifth ear surgery, I’m so grateful that it’s only ear surgery, and I’m so pissed that it is still going on. This boy, this lion of mine, so strong, and still so young. It is impossible that he is about to be Eleven.
At this time of year in particular, I think of Mary. So young, and so strong. With heartstrings too. My hero. The task of raising a man is hard enough, but raising the KING OF THE WORLD, knowing that you would let him go, for love. Gets me every time.
There are days when I am so confused, so heartbroken, so overwhelmed with all that we have on our plates. I hate those days, and I love those days. It’s on those days that Abba whispers….you were made for this. And so, my heartstrings play their song, a song that, at times does not seem melodious , or soothing , and that has yet to resolve the dissonance, but it is there, the song that my children respond to. It’s why they snuggle me, seek me out, reach for my hand. It’s the song. It can be sweet, out of tune and with clashing harmonies at times, but it is ours. We were made for this.
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