Friday, July 19, 2013

Distractions. Act One, Scene One

What is it, if anything, that causes me to be distracted?  I know I am not the only one that is distracted by little things, and big things! Just this morning I was thinking of what I could do…
Read my book
It’s a good one!
It’s quiet and nobody is awake yet
I should read my bible while it’s quiet
Bible on my phone or the actual bible
It feels good to turn pages…actual bible
I’m hungry
I need to make coffee
Leftover iced coffee in the fridge..bonus!
*as a walk pass the computer*
Oooh, maybe I should write
What am I gonna write?
I have that book idea I haven’t fed in a while
Oh no, a kiddo is awake!
Quiet time may be over…
Saved by tired eyes!
Shhh, I’m writing….about writing
I still haven’t read any of my bible, or my book, because I thought I should throw this garble on the pages of certainty.  The words are certainly here, will they continue to float in my head? Yes.  Of course.  They course through my mind and I continue to play stage director to the thoughts, placing them on stage to perform for my enjoyment and sanity.
Mama *interruption number 94,386* …

Please exit stage left, you are upstaging the show.
I continue to entertain my thoughts, subjecting them to rigorous practices prior to the performance.  Questioning their validity, their value, and their effectiveness.  I wonder if Solomon was subjected to moments of distraction such as these.  I wonder what the mind of Christ did when presented with distraction.  They were human... did they laugh at their thoughts as I do mine?  Did they play director?  

"As for you, my son Solomon, know the God of your father, and serve Him with a whole heart and a willing mind; for the LORD searches all hearts, and understands every intent of the thoughts. If you seek Him, He will let you find Him; but if you forsake Him, He will reject you forever." I Chronicles 28:9 

"A fool does not delight in understanding, But only in revealing his own mind."  Proverbs 18:2 *Convicted*

"But Paul said, 'I am not out of my mind, most excellent Festus, but I utter words of sober truth.'" Acts 26:25

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Growing Pains... (long but worth it) *wink*

When I have a conversation in my mind the world outside goes blurry. Kind of like the teacher on the Peanuts cartoons, or moments that are in movies when the main character goes into their own world of perception and chaos. In one short moment I go through so many thoughts and ideas that it can be frustrating and angering keeping them in the correct place. 

Many times I lose my thoughts, or simply misplace them. At times I can give myself a quiet moment to recoup, trace back and unearth the lost thought amongst some trivial “what if’s” or “could be, if only” ideas. Other times I resign to the idea that once a thought is lost it can only be reclaimed by blunt force via guilt, or the occasional memory recall through smells or picture viewing, or maybe never at all. I once tried to explain to my daughter how much I think about in any given moment of the day and her jaw unhinged. She lost hope for her future of grown up clarity of mind.

My mind has been such a jumble for so long that I can look at journal entries and not have any recollection at all of writing it. Recently I unearthed a gem. It was a letter I wrote to my unborn baby. I was ten weeks pregnant and I had just had a visit to the doctor to have things checked out. I certainly remember that time in my life, but I don't remember writing this letter. It was as if I had unknowingly put a time capsule in the middle of my journal, and God had ordained the day I should discover it.

My daughters eleventh birthday was two weeks ago. I was a ball of sloppy mess for the two weeks leading up to the celebration. Two weeks later and I still can't stop crying about her growing up. I had to pull it together for her slumber party that commenced with six little ladies taking over the basement. I did succeed, long enough to observe the whimsical laughter and giggles of her friends, to serve the goodies and clean up the mess. Her growing up isn't the hard thing, though. I am so honored and blessed to watch her grow and stumble and push through life. I have been here for everything…the first, the tears, the discoveries, the apprehensions, the joys, etc. It’s beautiful to watch. 

But the older she gets, that means the older the other baby that I wrote about in my journal gets. That is where my tears come from.  The tiny one that was the first to open my womb, the helpless one that opened my heart: I found the letter to him in my journal two weeks ago. He will be thirteen in September. The baby I carried thirteen years ago was to find another family to grow up in, but not before he caused my heart to explode with grateful joy.

He was adopted into a dear family, whom I had the great blessing of picking out. (I say that loosely, as it is God who makes our path and God who brought the family to me.) At the time that I got pregnant I was a wandering, flailing, hurting mess of a woman. I had multiple guys that could have been the father, and others whom I had wished were the father. I was tortured by questions of eternal things and would cry myself to sleep as I tried to comprehend what life would be like with another soul to care for. I would be responsible for what happened in his life. I would have to answer for any and all choices I made. How could I make this choice?

I was convinced I loved him enough to give him what he needed, and that I had plenty of family to help me take care of him. But as time went on and he grew, and I felt him kick, and I heard his heartbeat, and I imagined what he would face…I couldn’t. I couldn't picture myself as a mother. I had, for my whole life, desired to be a mother. I was getting what I wanted, but only partially. I wanted to be a mother, but I wanted to be a wife first. I wanted to love my husband and grow a family with him, but I had jumped the gun, skipped ahead, pushed the fast forward button, and had the baby before I had a husband. I had lots of boyfriends, but that was not even close to having a hubby!! I wanted to be a mother, but I knew this would not be my moment.

I couldn’t. I couldn't let this little baby, this tiny person, grow up without a Daddy. He needed someone who knew how to give him hugs, and discipline, and make him laugh, and cheer for him at soccer games. He needed to have somebody that was strong and able, somebody who was willing to take risks for him. I couldn’t. I couldn't give him anything. Well, in a way I could give him what I couldn’t: a family through adoption. I could give him a chance; a chance to see the bigger world, to have bigger dreams, to soar and to fly and to know generosity and kindness. I could do that.

My wings were clipped. I was broken. I was down for the count before I even started. In defeat I took my request to God. I didn't barter, I didn't question why, I only searched. I needed to know how to get through this. How do I take one day and add another, and another, and a month, and another month, and nine months and 50 something pounds later…how do I take all that and be okay at the end? How was I supposed to get through that?

I had friends that gave gentle nods of encouragement with shrugs of “I don’t know, Tink.” I had family that offered to help, even to the point of taking full responsibility for his care, and I had the mirror. I looked in the mirror one day and I didn’t recognize what I saw. Not that much had changed, but I had sped through the last few months before getting pregnant without paying any attention to me. I didn’t know myself. I was making choices in that time that I would have never chosen again if I had slowed down enough to think.

As soon as I had that revelation I started to talk to people about what I knew I needed to do. I made calls of inquiry for adoption and was met with nothing but grace. The doors opened, and kept opening. People rose to the challenge of helping an adult woman who was pregnant out of wedlock because of selfish choices. They offered housing, prayers, financial help, food, rides, clothing, etc. God gathered me up in his arms and held me through that time. He gave me hope, and his people gave me comfort. He gave me peace and his people gave me laughter. The people that worked miracles in my life with little things like fresh baked bread and a coffee, or a prayer and a ride to church, were the reason I got through that time. He answered my cries in abundant ways as I cared for the baby in my womb.

I didn't realize what state my faith was in at the time of getting pregnant until I found the letter in my journal. Over the past thirteen years whenever I think about that time I could only remember snippets from the end of my pregnancy. I couldn't recall any of the jumbled thoughts or ideas…they were lost. Until this letter. This letter opened my eyes to see the grace of God in my life in a way that makes my heart ache for all the moments I can’t remember, as I know that many of the lost thoughts and memories are steeped in rich blessing and adoration of my heavenly father.

I know that every moment of my life has been, and will be, a testimony to His good graces, His mercies, His love, and my heart aches at the thought of not having the ability to recall all the wonderful moments spent with Him caring for me.

After reading the letter I remember more. I remember calling His name and praying so hard it hurt, tears burning my face and sobs waking me from sleep. I remember my joy at hearing his heartbeat the first time, knowing that even as I stumbled in sin God was gracious to care for me. He waited for me, He watched me, and wrapped me in His arms when I was too weak to even cry, when I fell in surrender to His love and guidance. I remember hearing over and over and over from those who love Him “It’s going to be ok” and I was confident they were right.

I remember the strength He gave me to meet each day head on, even if it was just enough strength to wake up. I remember knowing that the baby in my womb was a gift, and I was given the charge of caring for him the best I could. I remember how the adoption was easy in the way it shouldn’t be, and hard in the way it should be. I remember breaking to pieces after delivery as I bathed in warm water and prayed for the child I was preparing to let go of.

I know my soul is secure in the hands of a loving God. I know my broken heart will be made whole in His good time. I know my faith is strong, and that when it’s weak He is strong. I know that the husband He blessed me with is a gift, and that the two beautiful children (who are rapidly becoming much older much quicker than I hoped!) He has blessed us with are in our care only by the grace of God. I know that the young man who was once an eight pound bundle in my arms for a moment is in His arms. I know I will keep writing, so I can keep finding glimpses of grace in my life. I will continue to be an open book so others can see the love, grace, and hope the Lord offers those who fall into His arms of loving care. I will keep thinking what seems to be hundreds of thoughts at one time so I can pray that many more times. I know how to care for my children only because God showed me how He cared for me.

As I continue to schlep through life and wade through thoughts a plenty, and tangled messes of ideas and broken memories, getting pounded by noisy recollections, I will continue to watch. I will watch my children grow, I will watch my wrinkles deepen, I will watch the grace unfold around me. And where I cannot see to watch, I will pray for the Lord to help me see Him.

Psalm 16:5-11
"The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot.  The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.  I bless the Lord who gives me counsel; in the night also my heart instructs me.  I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.  Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure.  For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one see corruption.  You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore." 

Monday, February 11, 2013


I don’t want to make dinner so I boiled some eggs.  Kids: you are in charge.  Peel your own egg, be nourished, grab a book, watch a movie or play.  Mama needs to write.  Mama needs to get it all out of her head.  

The hurts, the hopes, the prayers, the worries, the anger, the frustration, the guilt, the self loathing (sheesh), the sorrow, the grief, the end.  Making room for good stuff up in here!  Eat the egg, let Mama write.  Let me type and make mistakes on the keyboard, they’re easier to fix.  Let me vent in black and white because it doesn't cry when I yell.  

Let me rest and give all the worry to God so that I can focus again.  Focus on the truth, not on my own miserable rendition of right.  Focus on reality, not on my shattered selfish dreams.  Focus on grace, not on demanding respect.  Focus on helping you learn through your mistakes, not simply pointing them out and making you deflate.  Focus on giving you what you need, not what you want. Focus on filling in the blanks I've left with the promises of God.  Focus on praying, not worrying.

Dishes are done, thank God for my kids.  Books are being read, thank God for my kids.  Movies are enjoyed, thank God for my kids.  Laughter is heard, thank God for my kids.  Tender hearts move me, thank God for my kids.  Eggs are eaten, thank God for my kids.  Epic movie songs play loud, thank God for my kids.  I am now a teacher, thank God for my kids.  I have something to write about, thank God for my kids.

How quickly the sour turns sweet.  Eggs are in bellies, black is on white, and now the evening commences with a card game…with my kids.  Prayers have been said, thank God for Jesus.

The LORD is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him. Psalm 28:7

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Cure for Boredom

Little man has been struggling, and so has this Mommy.  “I’m bored” has been a constant irritation coming from his quiet mouth attached to his freckled head…which is attached to his growing body, which also includes idle hands.  Do dishes, fold laundry, clean up are not encouraging his heart of eight years.

This morning the little blanket wrapped boy lay in the hallway outside the bathroom door as I readied myself for the day.  He cracked the door open, and said, “Mommy, I’m bored.”  His voice was calm, tired, and kind.  Not the whining that I usually hear.  The Lord must have known that a child’s voice as this prompts bible reading.
“Come and sit in the living room with me, buddy.”

His blanket inched across the floor as the mini king and cloak eased onto the couch.  I grabbed my coffee, sat across from him in my chair, and opened my bible to Proverbs.
We had a pre-reading conversation about what a desire is, what a sluggard is, and what the opposite of a sluggard is.  He seemed confidently detached. 
“Are you paying attention, bud?”
“Yes,” said the eyelids as they caught my words like sleeping dust.  (Every mother knows she is magical!)

As I say my silent prayers of “Lord, please help my boy from the wrath of my human, feminine anger and may my words reflect your grace and not my increasing irritation,” I read:
“The desire of the sluggard kills him, for his hands refuse to labor.  All day long he craves and craves, but the righteous gives and does not hold back.”

We did circles around the topics of:
Desire: it’s not always bad; it’s what you desire that should be looked at.
Sluggard: never helping or taking care of necessaries.
Refusing to labor: not helping, or working, or doing what is necessary.
Craving: wanting. 
Giving without holding back: having the ability and resources to help others without expecting anything in return.
Generous: giving everything you can, for the glory of God.
Back and forth we discussed these topics with the lens of the bible, God’s words, His life for us, His children.

I laid everything out in eight year old terms, repeatedly, with the hope of something sticking.  In my head it was just another conversation I thought would be lost in the mind on my Lego builder, left for me to pray over and see the fruit when he becomes a father, or never fruiting at all.
“Do you want to be a sluggard, or a righteous giver?”
“How can we be generous?”
“What things do you desire?”
He responded and we talked, and more Q & A took place while my head swirled with my silent prayers for his wrapped up freckled face.

Then he did it.  He made me smile.  I shouldn’t be surprised.  He smiles every time I flex my Mommy muscles.  As a toddler he would laugh, and make me laugh, as I attempted reprimand.
And now my blanket boy says, “Mommy, you’re so generous.”
“What? How am I generous?” says doubtful Mommy.
“Well, you’re so kind!  Thank you for that.”  His smile spreads and my heart is a puddle in my coffee cup. 
“Thanks, buddy!  Do you feel motivated now… to not be bored?”
“Me too!”  
That was a great start to my day, Lord.

The desire of the sluggard kills him, for his hands refuse to labor.  All day long he craves and craves, but the righteous gives and does not hold back.  Proverbs 21: 25-26

Whoever pursues righteousness and kindness will find life, righteousness and honor. Proverbs 21:21

Wednesday, June 13, 2012


I want, I need.  The words a toddler says.  Nay, the words this Mama says!  I have, for so long, wanted to write and entry!  And now, I need to write!  The computer couldn’t reboot fast enough for these fingers to start blogging! 

All I could think about as I got ready for bed was writing, though I couldn’t think of what to write.  Then I started to think of what I have written about in the past: encouragement, marriage, and joyful moments.  I realized as I reflected:  I’m here!  I’m here…I am at home, teaching my kids, cleaning our house, washing our clothes, preparing our food.  I have a craft room.  I have a laundry room.  A whole room just for doing laundry!  I don’t have to do yard work in our sprawling back yard:  our landlord pays someone to do it.  I’m here!  I am doing it! 

I can pick up a book at any time of the day and read it…and I like it!  I have never read in my life and liked it.  Well, I used to read plays a lot….but I have read three novels in one month!  And they’re big and challenging and I love it!

Here I am…exclamations and all!!!

For so long I have wondered and dreamed of being at home.  When my daughter asks me what I used to want to be when I grew up I always tell her: a wife and a Mama.  For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be at home, wearing aprons, baking and cooking, cleaning and tidying, organizing and decorating, sewing and writing. 

I used to think I wanted to be a teacher.  Well, I’m a teacher!  In a sense that no other teacher in the world can teach!  I can wake my kids up to watch a sunrise, or keep them up late to look at stars.  I can teach them how to cook more than just a pancake.  I can teach them how to make roast turkey and plan a meal for entertaining.  I can teach them of the love of God, and of His greatness, His holiness, His wonders.  I can watch them make mistakes and encourage them to keep trying.  I can wipe the tears that they cry…every one of them!  I can see the glow and the excitement in them as they discover how big the world really is.  I can make reading exciting by changing my voice, and make them laugh when I am silly…when they least expect it!  I can teach them how to have fun with learning.  I can teach them Latin and grammar and eventually logic and rhetoric!

I am enjoying every moment of it.  I love here.  I love that so much hard work is proving fruitful.  I love that the moments are rich and tasty and I feel no guilt!  I love that God has granted the desire of my heart.  I love that this life, with all the pleasures that God gives me, is simply a shadowy reflection of what is to come.  This sliver of a life, this glimmering moment, this here is graceful and peaceful and I am so thankful.

My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the LORD; my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God.  Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O LORD of hosts, my King and my God.  Blessed are those who dwell in your house, ever singing your praise!  Psalm 84:2-4 

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!  Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.  Psalm 34:8