Be the Peace

     I had the strangest nightmare the other morning, and I've been quietly turning it over in my mind ever since in an attempt to find the spiritual lesson in it.  I'm going to tell you about it, but I'm not going to name a few key people, because I don't want to freak anyone out... You'll see what I mean.

        All at once, I'm standing in the middle of a playground with two small children who are very dear to me.  I'm just letting everything come into focus in my mind when I realize that my dream has no sound.  What's even more odd is that it's a deafening silence, as if someone has hit the mute button, but I can still hear the little buzz of sound trying to come through.  It's an amazingly bright day, and everything seems to have a glare from the sun.  In an instance, I know for a fact that, even though I can't hear it, someone has fired a gun into the crowd, and I turn without thinking and catch one of my little dears as they fall.  I calmly tell the other child to duck down next to me, and I know the little one does so.  I don't know how I know all of these things, I just do.  Here's the crazy thing:  I am not afraid.  Normally in such a dream, my heart would be pounding out of my chest.  It's not.  I absolutely know that my little dear one will be okay, I know that there will be no more gunshots, I know the shooter will get caught.  There is absolute chaos around me.  I realize that the park is in the middle of a wooded area, and everyone is running into the woods.  I wonder to myself why they are so panicked.  I notice that my instincts kicked in because I have my hand over the wound on the little one's side to stop any blood loss.  I know that no organs were hit by the bullet.  The child isn't panicked, but just lays calmly, allowing me to apply pressure.  Both of my little dear ones are calm; we know that help is coming.  We know that if he just stay where we are, if we keep our position, everything will be okay. 

As suddenly as the dream began, I awoke.  I waited for the fear to creep over me.  It is an extremely bothersome dream, I know.  However, I never become afraid.  (It may not seem that bad to you as you read it, but think of a small child you love dearly being present with you during such a dream.  It's horrific to the point that I almost didn't write this post.)  This lack of fear is very unlike me.  I have always hated nightmares.  They plagued me as a child so badly that my sweet mother would write down scriptures and put them in my room, and when we prayed together, I would pray that I would not dream at all.  I hated any dream, because I associated dreaming with fear.  I laid in my bed after I awoke from that dream, waiting for the fear, almost hoping for it since I knew I should be bothered by such a dream.  I walked back through the whole thing in my mind so that I could tell Dean about it.  (He had already gone out to work on the farm, and I was afraid I would forget it before I saw him at lunch.)  All I felt was the same peace that dominated my dream.  I was left feeling calm and wondering: what does that dream mean?
     I immediately felt like the dream must have meant something.  It had to serve a spiritual purpose.  It has been over a week, and this is what I have gathered.  (Maybe I'm looking too closely at this dream, but I couldn't let such a crazy dream go without trying to learn something from it.)  This is a crazy world filled with danger, anger, hate, and chaos.  However, as a child of God, I have the opportunity to be the peace for those around me.  I can be the calm eye in the hurricane of life for my family.  When I think of the Godly women I know, they have one thing in common.  They are the anchor of their family.  They are, in essence, home to their husbands and children.  They are the ones who everyone tells their problems to, the one giving constant, unconditional encouragement, and they emit peace to the family unit.  In the midst of troubled times, even though my mom herself might have been stressed to the max, she brought comfort and peace to the rest of us.  I think that is what God was trying to show me.  Just like in the dream, I can keep a peaceful heart because I know things will be okay, even when danger is present. I can rest peacefully, even when I'm in the middle of surviving this life because I know from where my help comes.  I can have peace, even when the unseen enemy attacks because I know that God will be my vengeance.  I can keep a calm heart, even in the middle of life's nightmares becasue His peace rests within me.  I just have to praise God every time I think about that awful dream. 
     I still don't really understand how such a terrible dream could give me so much peace in my heart, but isn't that the amazing thing about our God?  He can take the most horrible of things and use them for good.  Somebody better be shouting about that out there!!  I know this particular post is a bizarre one, so I'll try to post again this week.  I just wanted to share this lesson with you while it was fresh in my mind.  I wanted to show how peace can be present at unexpected moments in our hearts.  I pray for peace constantly, and I'm so amazed that I found it in the middle of one of the worst nightmares I have ever had.  I don't know how many of you are seeking peace in your lives right now, but I want to share a scripture with you that my mommy wrote on a post it and put on my mirror as a teenager.  It helped me with it's literal meaning, but I hung on to it, and it has helped me during times when my sleep was robbed, not by nightmares, but by other things such as stress, anxiety, depression, anger, or even nerves.  Maybe it will help you too.  I usually end with a prayer, but at my darkest times, I would just read this scripture as my prayer when I couldn't form  words of my own.  If you ever find yourself there, maybe you can do the same.

"I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety."( Psalms 4:8)

The Rash of Resentment

     I've decided that nothing rubs you raw quite like resentment.  One of my sweet little angels, Bubby, gets diaper rashes very easily.  To complicate matters, he's allergic to most diaper ointments (you know, only the ones that actually work).  We try our best to prevent diaper rash, as most parents do I suppose, but no matter what we do, he sometimes eats or drinks something that comes out in a toxic way and leaves a rash behind.  I tell you all of this, not so that he'll have a reason to hate me when he's older, but as a comparison in my life.  I don't know if everyone in the world struggles with resentment or if it's just me, but I try my best to just avoid situations or feelings that I know will lead to resentment in my life, because, well, it just rubs me raw.  It leaves me irritated, frustrated, and all around grumpy; I end up much like Bubby when he gets held down for me to rub that poor excuse for an ointment on his little tail...I'm ready to fight for all I'm worth, even if I know I shouldn't.  However, try as I may, there are times when resentment creeps up on me, and I'm learning to read the signs. 
     Spring time should be a happy time, but it's one of the hardest times for me in struggling with resentment.  All around me, I see people exercising, dieting, tanning, and doing other self-help type things to prepare for....well, I don't know what they are preparing for, but I want in on it.  I want to get tan for vacation (which doesn't make much sense really).  I want to lose 15 pounds before that vacation (so I can eat like a pig and gain it back while on said vacay). I want to exercise (kinda).  I know I sound whiny.  (I literally laughed at myself as I typed the last sentence, because a spiritual blogger would have followed the statement up with a "but" phrase that justified the statement, but I've got nothing.)  I just want to be able to work on myself sometimes, but I find myself in this wonderfully blessed life that just doesn't allow for these little privileges anymore.  Every single Spring since having my first child, I have cycled through 1. low-self esteem, 2. anger, and then 3.  resentment.  Dean tries to help me with this issue, but Spring is a pretty big time for him too.  Spring is when his second full time job of farming really kicks back in, and making time for me to go hike the trail at the park just doesn't seem all that important to either of us many days.  That doesn't mean I always make the sacrifice with a joyful heart though.  Then, to make things even better, people say, "Oh, just get you a little exercise video to do at home."  Don't worry fellow mothers, no other female with three small children has been foolish enough to suggest this.  It's not that it's a bad idea, it's just an impossible one.  The only way I would be able to successfully complete an exercise video with my three kids present is if I locked them out of the room, and I'm pretty sure they'd destroy the room that they were gated into just to get back at me (not even taking into account that my five year old can climb any gate we own).  To be honest, I've had to let them completely destroy the living room just to type this blog, and I've had to stop eight different times to scold or rescue my little (ahem) angels.  Then, there's the commentary from my brutally honest five year old from the time I tried exercising with her when the duo was napping..."You don't look like that lady"... "You're belly jiggles"..We won't go further.  Anyway, back on track with resentment.  My ultimate question is, "How do I control this resentment"?
     I've been working on just that.  I can't pay another sitter to come in so that I can workout an hour a day. (Well, I technically could, but I don't feel right doing it right now.)  I can't change my lack of time for myself.  I can't make my daily routine include more "me time". However, I can try to control my resentment.  Now don't roll your eyes, because I hate those, "You can't control the situation, but you can control how you react to the situation" sayings just as much as you, but I honestly have to either succumb to the resentment or move past it.  I looked up some scriptures about resentment, and here's some of what I found:

“The godless in heart harbor resentment"(Job 36:13 )
 "Resentment kills a fool"(Job 5:2)
"And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful."(2 Timothy 2:24)

Well, you didn't expect it to be complimentary did you?  Ouch, though.  It did kind of hurt.  I knew resentment was bad for me, but to be called godless, a fool, and quarrelsome. YIKES!! That is what we English folk refer to as a Shrew in Literature, and my husband might not always disagree as far as it describing me.  So here's the thing ladies:  Being a mom is hard (so is being an adult..or a human for that matter!).  I don't have the awesome body and nice tan that I had but didn't appreciate when I was young.  I don't have time to put together a diet that I can go on but despise now that I'm so busy raising kids.  It's not all about me.  BUT THAT'S OKAY!  Now, I just have to get over that fact, and be happy with the time I do have for myself, the body I'm left with after it has done its child bearing duties.  I have to enjoy every bite of sinful chocolate I sneak from my kids' Easter baskets (finally, an easy one!).  I also have to fight off the devil's attempts at making me resentful.  Careful ladies, he's smart.  He'll stand right by you and whisper in your ear that your husband just doesn't appreciate all you do.  He'll make you look longingly at how tiny that lady is in the Wal-mart line (who, by the way, has never had twins).  He will show you on TV what a woman is "supposed to be".  Don't buy in to the resentment.  It's a lie.  It'll make you a quarrelsome, godless fool.  I don't know exactly what that looks like, but I can guarantee, it's not a happy picture.  Let's end with a prayer for the resentful among us:

"Dear Father, life is hard.  It's not fair.  As women, we sometimes get resentful of our jobs, our places in this society, and frankly, Lord, we get resentful of each other.  And wrongly so.  FORGIVE US WE BEG!  May we always remember who our King is.  In those weak moments when resenment comes creeping in, help us to cling to your promises God.  Help us remember how precious we are to You.  Help us remember how precious our dear little families are that we work so hard to protect.  God our love for You and them is so great, but so overwhelming that our weak human selves just can't handle it sometimes.  Help us to step back, breathe, and put it all in prospective.  We praise You, God, for all that You have given us.  Thank You for the unfairness, Thank You for difficulties, Thank You for peace that passes understanding. Thank You for hope in a hopeless world. We love You, we love You, we love You. Amen."

Breaking the Silence in my Spiritual Trial

     Hello long lost friends.  First, I want to apologize for being gone so long without so much as an explanation.  My last post promised a journey towards refuge from a weary refugee, and then I basically fell off the face of the social media earth for a while only to pop back up recently.  I wish I could say that my journey is complete and that is was quick, painless, and I am right now resting in my spiritual place of refuge.  However, I can't.
    Side note* Have you ever ulgy cried?  You know what I mean.  The kind of cry where you lose control of all facial features and it's not just letting a tear roll here and there, but you have snot dripping, your face is contorted, and your coloring has gone haywire.  Well, I've done so much of that lately that it's not even funny.  Anytime I refer to crying in this post, you can safely assume I am referring to ugly crying, not movie star crying where one tear drop delicately rolls down my face.  I'm just not that kind of girl...*
   I am still going through one of the toughest trials of my spiritual life.  I wasn't exactly sure what was going on with me spiritually for a long time, but I know now.  I thought at least knowing what God was doing in me would help.  It doesn't.  I thought I had been through spiritual trials before in my life, and I have, but on a different scale.  You see, as we grow spiritually, so do our trials.  It is awesome that God finds us worthy of testing, but don't go glamorizing the process, it hurts.  Dictionary.com defines a trial as, "the act of trying, testing, or putting to the proof.  A tentative or experimental action in order to ascertain results; experiment." This lets us know that a trial does not last forever and the purpose is to get results.  What results will it yield?  Well, that depends on us.  Trials are often a painful part of our spiritual walk, so the bigger the trial, the more painful the moment in life that trial may produce (not always I suppose).  This trial has been a bizarre one for me.
      As I said in my previous post, my one strength in my Christian walk is my ability to communicate with God.  That's about all I had going for me, so I took great pride in that one strength, and you know what the Bible says about pride, it "comes before the fall".  Well, my trial is this.  Not only did I quit hearing from God.  I started feeling as if he didn't hear me.   Now, I know because the Bible tells me so, the God hears my prayers.  However, when it feels as if God doesn't hear you for one day, it's easy to tell yourself that He hears you even if it doesn't feel like it.  When you feel like God doesn't hear you for a week, it's a little harder.  Two months later, you find yourself throwing a hissy fit on God asking Him why He is mad at you, crying like a baby, rolling on the floor like a little kid in the check out at walmart thinking that making a ridiculous display will force the parent's hand.  Anyone else been there?  I was doing the seek and pray thing until I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown, and to be honest, most of the people closest to me were getting pretty worried too.  To make sure He really had my attention, God didn't just stop there with the trial.
     Dean and I also started having strange things happen that would make life stressful financially.  Car trouble, hot water heater breakdown, closing costs on a loan that were triple what we had been told, more car trouble (talk about a rough month).  I wasn't sure we could handle much more bad news.  Then my dad told me he had gotten a promotion...and relocated.  yay (read with sarcasm).  Now they haven't relocated yet, but you all know how much I depend on my mother and the army around me just to survive, so losing her is like cutting off one of my arms.  There were  other little nuances as well that the devil threw in the way just to trip me up, but it always went back to the fact that I just couldn't see what God was doing.  What was He preparing me for?  If I could just see a reason, a point, get a word of encouragement from Him, then I could make it through. 
     I tried to just keep pushing on.  I kept up with my responsibilities at home, work, and church.  Actually, if something extra needed to be done at church, I picked up on it and took over.  There weren't necessarily big things to take, just little things to plan here and there.  Still, nothing, silence.  I thought for sure He would give in eventually and just talk to me.  Finally, I got a chance to talk to JoyMac, one of my friends at work who I always go to for spiritual advice.  I was sitting in her room blubbering on and on about how I was praying and seeking my little heart out and getting nowhere, when finally, she said, "Now don't get mad, but why don't you just stop?  Maybe you just need to quit talking and listen.  Maybe you're looking and looking, and what God wants is for you to let Him lead you."  Ouch.  I don't know about you, but when my friends start out with the phrase "don't get mad", they are about to say something they know I need to hear, but they know I am not going to want to hear.  Thankfully I also have friends who love me enough to say it anyway and who know how to say it in love.  She's right.  I've spent my whole life preparing myself for God to use me, and now that I don't know what to "do" in preparation to be used, I'm at a loss.  That is one thing this trial is all about.  It is in part at least to make me stop working towards a goal of readiness.
     The trial still isn't over, and I'm not sure why.  In the darkest point of this trial, I finally said to God, "I know You're there, I know You love me, and I know You hear my prayers.  I know You're faithful to me, and I will be faithful to You, no matter what."  It was all I could pray for a while.  It was that or nothing, honestly, so I thought that was better than nothing at all.  Somedays, I still put that in there.  Then, somedays, I would have a small breakthrough during that prayer.  Other days, I would be listening to the radio and have a breakthrough in a song.  One day I was singing "How Great Thou Art" in my car and had a break through.  I didn't hear God speaking, but I felt His comfort, and that was enough.  I just needed something, just a little touch to know I hadn't been completely forsaken, just a hand on my shoulder, even for a moment so that I knew I could make it through.  I'm not saying I have gone through this trial gracefully.  I have spent many a Sunday crying so hard the whole church service people have asked me if I'm okay after church.  I have been affected emotionally so much that when my mother asked me what I wanted for Christmas, Princess spoke up and said, "I know! What she wants is to not have a nervous breakdown, Nana."  Out of the mouth of babes, huh?  My poor husbad has prayed with and for me, and I've apologized so many times for dragging him through this trial with me.  Maybe had I been more faithful, I could be on the mountain top looking down on this experience now rather than making my slow climb up still.  But it isn't all bad.  Even in the trial there were blessings and happiness.  I learned new things from myself, I saw new strength in my husband, and I sought new truth in the scriptures. 
     One of my favorite biblical characters, David, encouraged me through my trial.  I've always loved him because even though at one point he was a colossal failure as a person, Christian, and leader, he loved God so unashamedly and he always gave God credit for his redemption.  When I just couldn't take it anymore, I would go to the Psalms and just skim through until I found a first verse that suited me, and then I would read the whole chapter.  David (though he didn't write all of the Psalms, he wrote most of them, and my Bible tells me which ones) would praise God through everything.  Sometimes with a happy heart, sometimes with a broken heart, sometimes for his people, and sometimes for himself.  Amazing.  Here are some beginings I like.  "Have mercy upon me, O God, According to You lovingkindness; According to the multitude of your tender mercies, Blot out my transgressions" (Ps 51:1) "I waited patiently for the Lord; And He inclined to me, And heard my cry." (Ps. 40:1) "I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth" (Ps. 34:1)  I read these and tried to mean them even if I didn't.  I read them and cried, I read them and laughed, I read them and related, and sometimes I read them and felt nothing.  I'm on trial.  I don't know when it will be over, but hiding away won't make it end faster.  For those of you out there going through a trial yourself, here is my prayer for both of us:
"God, help us as we go through trials.  Help us to know that they are not to hurt us, but that they will make us stronger.  God, please help us stay faithful to You no matter what we may face in this life.  God we love You.  I ask that You protect my friends and put up a shield of love around them.  I ask that you cover us with Your comfort.  We praise You, we praise You, we praise You. Amen."

From refugee to refuge

     Let's first begin by defining some terms together in order to be certain we're all on the same page.  According to dictionary.com, refuge is "shelter or protection from danger, trouble, etc.".  It defines refugee as, "a person who has fled from some danger or problem, esp political persecution".  My idea for this blog is discovering how to go from being a refugee to finding refuge.  When I think of the term refugee, I think of one who is running for his/her life in that moment of definition.  I think of someone who is in danger, one who is struggling, one who is anxious.  Once the person has found refuge, they would probably no longer use that term as their identifier (in my mind).  I constantly feel like a refugee in life.  I feel like I am running from one thing and toward another, and as hard as I try and pray, I can't seem to break the cycle.  I'm tired of feeling as if I have my whole world shoved in a pack and strapped to my back.  I'm tired of feeling like a failure when I know I'm not, not yet anyway.  I'm tired of feeling like I'm not doing something well, or that I'm not good enough.  Mostly, I'm tired of feeling tired.  I know I complain about this a lot, but stay with me, I promise there is something relatable for most people in here...
     Satan knows how to get to me in life.  He starts giving me thoughts that start out simple and true but then turn into something ugly and evil.  I constantly have thoughts like: "I'm frustrated at home because I'm tired of staying behind on things that need to be done."  It's a true thought.  There is nothing at all wrong with feeling frustrated over being behind on laundry, struggling to keep your kitchen clean (relatively at least), or forgetting to pay a bill on time.  However, my thought, after a while, becomes: "I'm a failure as a person because I can't even keep up with laundry, my kitchen is disgusting, and I can't even manage finances. I GIVE UP!"  Do you see how a simple, true thought has led me to a place of hopelessness?  IT'S LAUNDRY!! WHO CARES?!?!  We all know the answer to that, me.  In your case, you.  We do care.  We have to care actually, because laundry does eventually have to be done.  The danger and evil are in the progression from frustration to hopelessness.  Here's another one.  I begin with the thought:"I'm frustrated at work, because I can't stay caught up with my work, and I don't feel like I even know my co-workers anymore."  In a few weeks the thought becomes, "I hate my job because I am a failure at it, and there's no way I could ever do any better than I am now because I don't have any more of myself to give."  The first thought is simple and true.  The second thought is not.  It is destructive; it is hopeless.  I'm tired of taking those thoughts, piled up with more thoughts which are related to things as simple as menuing, grocery shopping, or making dinner, to things as important as, health, weight, and relationships, and having to run as far and fast as I can in what I assume to be the right direction.  Where then, is my refuge?
     I know that literally God is my refuge, but how do I find my way to His place of comfort?  We all know, thanks to Science class, that it takes more energy to begin motion than to keep something in motion.  My problem is that I feel the need to literally stay in motion.  Have you ever said something like: "I better do it now, because once I sit down, I won't get back up"?  I do.  That means that I run in from work, immediately begin cooking dinner while trying to play with and hold my kids, feed them as soon as it's ready, hurry and clean the kitchen, work on whatever other thing is absolutely necessary for the day, and then collapse around the time my kids go to bed.  What part of the day was enjoyed? None of it.  Sad, huh? It's amazing that the days I accomplish the most, are sometimes the most miserable.  I take this as proof that my joy is being stolen by my obligations.  My God and my family are what is most important to me, but those are the places where my life suffers.  
     Dean and I are constantly saying that we don't want our kids to get the worst of us.  We want to give them the best of who we are, and we want to give each other the best of ourselves as well.  It's hard though, because we use ourselves up before we get a chance to really even be together.  My relationship with God suffers because my quiet time either doesn't happen or becomes a complaint session on my part.  I pray a great deal, without ceasing so to speak, but I'm pretty sure my prayers are starting to sound like directions given from a waitress to a short order cook.  "I need an order of peace with a side of patience and kindness!  Don't forget to go heavy on the blessings, please! Oh, and you didn't forget about the hope I'll need later!"  Forgive me, Lord...Or maybe I sound more like a sick patient in with the doctor, "You see, I need help with this pesky little ache of stress, and then I need you to fix the heartache from missing my kids, and then I need you to take a look at making me happier, and if you could, maybe you could soothe this little frustration over here, and then.........." God help me remember who You are.   
     I've always spoken very openly to God, I mean He does know everything anyway.  As a child, I basically adopted the idea that God is who I am constantly addressing in my every thought.  Rather than ping ponging thoughts around with myself, I feel that God is who I am really wanting feedback from, so I constantly talk to Him.  It has made me good at prayer.  The problem is that I still need to set aside prayer time.  Talking to Him all day has, in some ways, hurt the way I talk to Him.  I need prayer time where I am still and quiet, waiting for a word.  It's great to pray constantly, but I need to remember that I can't always be the one doing all the talking.  God knows my heart.  He knows that I am sincere in my prayers, and He knows that I acknowledge Him as the creator of the universe.  I am the slave, and He is my master.  I mean no disrespect in my prayers that come out sounding demanding or whiny, but I still don't want that to be my instinct.  I want to go from feeling like a refugee, to resting in my refuge.  I just haven't gotten there yet.  
     I am determined to take action in this situation.  I need to change several habits in myself in order to do so.  I need to work on my prayer life, enjoying my children and husband, and trying to find balance in necessities.  My first goal is to change my prayer habits.  Every time I catch myself saying one of those split second "God, please help me" prayers, I will add to it a praise and acknowledgment of His greatness.  I will make sure that at some point each day I seek God's will for me.  Step one starts this week.  I will let you know how it goes, and I sincerely hope that if you are in the same situation I am, you will try this with me.  Here's my prayer for week 1 of going from refugee to refuge:
"Lord, You are so awesome.  You are why I am alive, and God, You are what I live for.  Help me to remember that You are my reason for living as I go through this life.  I want my every thought to be pleasing to You God.  I was not put here to live a life of stress and anxiety but to bring glory to You, and while I know that this imperfect world is full of those things, I also know that in You, I can find peace.  I am so sorry for becoming the mess I am.  I beg your forgiveness, and I praise You for Your love and blessings.  Please guide me on this journey to Your refuge, God.  I seek Your face.  Bless my friends who need this journey as well.  We await Your guiding touch, and we praise You no matter the outcome.  We want to be the women You created us to be, and we will start now.  We bless the Creator of the universe. We praise You, we praise You, we praise You.  Amen"
 

Mother of the year....NOT!

     So I found myself in this situation a few weeks ago where I was driving down the road after literally running out of my work place (don't worry, I got my class covered), telling myself not to cry, get upset, or even show any sign of stress.  I had somehow forgotten to get Princess picked up from school.  Luckily, the sweet ladies at preschool were taking good care of her by having her just keep on going into the afternoon program like nothing was wrong.  I was devastated.  Princess seemed fine, but she asked several times that day why she had to stay late.  This is when it is hard to be a working mom when you're shuffling everyone between so many people that something gets forgotten.  My mom normally picks Princess up on that day, but she was on vacation and somehow I had forgotten.  It's an honest mistake, but what if Princess hadn't been in a school that offers such a wonderful environment?  To make things worse, it happened again the next week.  Luckily, my father-in-law called to check, which prompted my babysitter to call SIL, who then went and got her.  It worked out, but the fact still remains that I forgot to have it taken care of, which bothers me.  I feel like I am absolutely doing the best I can with the juggling act I have in life, but there are still some major moments of failure, and I honestly don't know how to do any better than I am doing now.  I go through times when I say I'm going to quit my job and stay home so that I don't have to worry about the hectic schedule I have, but then we'd have to give up private preschool, my health insurance, my retirement, and basically all unnecessary things in life...HMMM..nah!  I could hire someone fulltime to keep my twins everyday and pay (at the very least) $600 every four weeks....*Cough* Not an option....I have a calendar that I fill out to help, but there are always little added things and changes that I just can't adjust for most weeks.  It's a stressful, seemingly hopeless cause which makes me feel like a failure. 
  AND THEN I REMEMBER as a 9 year old girl getting left at the church by my parents who had driven separate cars, not once, but twice.  I remember my dad's secretary having to come to the school 15 minutes after it ended to pick me up once.  These aren't important memories, they are just things that happened.  The schedule got hectic, an appointment ran late, I got lost in the shuffle.  I didn't feel any less loved.  I didn't feel distressed by the evidently hectic lifestyle my parents were leading.  In fact, until just this moment, I assumed that my life now is more chaotic than my mother's was at my age.  How selfish is that?  I believe myself to be an exception in my chaos when in reality I am simply an average mother.  Is it right? Does this make it okay?  Has our society done this at harm to us?  I don't know the answer to these questions.  One thing I do know is that no matter what the situation, motherhood is hard.  It is hectic, stressful, and sometimes frustrating, but man is it worth it! 
     I love being a mother.  I am so proud of my children who are so special as little individuals.  I look at them and constantly see all the good in the world.  Maybe I do fail sometimes, but they all know at the end of the day that mommy loves them so much.  For them, that's enough.  So, I'll pick myself up, brush off the dust of guilt, lean on Jesus, and walk on forward in this journey...and all the while, I'll still be learning to love the chaos.

Mirror, Mirror

     I'm sure there is a moment in every mother's life when she looks at her child, or children, and feels as if she is looking directly into a mirror.  This has been happening to me a lot lately.  I can think of several different occasions within the past two weeks that I looked at each child individually and saw myself.  The problem with it is that I didn't see the good version of myself that I have pictured in my head.  I saw the uncontrolled, pushy, demanding, temperamental parts.  Geez.
    We'll start with Bubby, since he's the least like me.  He has this tendency to just plow over people to get what he wants.  He will literally run over his twin to get to me.  If I'm standing at the sink washing dishes and he wants me to pick him up, he forces his little body between my legs and the cabinets and pushes with all his weight against it to get me away from the sink.  I don't know where he learned to be so adamant about getting his way.  Oh wait...
     Then there is Tinker Belle, who is mostly expressionless.  She has recently learned a new look.  It's the "I'm gonna kill you" (but not literally) look.  If you say something she doesn't like or look at her a certain way, she lowers her little eyebrows at you.  I can't imagine where she saw such a mean look.  Well, maybe...
   Lastly, there is Princess, my mini-me in life.  She was nagging (ahem) me about wanting something for two straight hours before I lost my cool and ranted about how she had to stop nagging me, during which my voice cracked and I almost cried, which made her begin to cry because she can't handle it when I cry, and she yelled back at me in the same tone, with the same desperate expression that she just couldn't help it.  It was some twilight zone type stuff...THEN she developed an unexplainable fear of our bathrooms.  She doesn't want to be in there by herself, and it's not exactly easy to drop everything and take her all the time.  This fear started randomly because of a decorative crab made of brass that was my grandmothers.  I can't imagine why anyone would have such a bizarre fear..(*nervous chuckle*)  Wonder where that came from?  Perhaps it could be...

     I know that I have some good traits as a person.  I truly care about people, I'm tender-hearted, and I am loving.  Why is it then that I feel like the only traits I have given my children are bad ones?  My parents told me once before the twins were born that Princess was strong willed and that while she needs to learn control, that is a trait that will help make her successful in life.  I'm not sure it's very endearing in preschool, but I know they are right.  I also know that the trait came from me.  Dean is definitely strong-willed, but she got the agressiveness from her mother.  I sit here asking myself, "Why don't they mimic the good things?" "Do I not do anything that is positive in front of them?" "Do I subconsciously only see the bad traits I pass along to them?"  "Should I start saving up for bail in the future?" (just kidding)

This is one of those times that I'm just going to have to try to improve the personality traits I project and pray really hard.  Here's the best I can do in my current state:

"Dear God, you know I'm crazy.  You also know that I don't want to make my children that way by showing them only uncontrolled behavior traits.  Help me, God, to realize that I have three little people depending on me to stay close to You so they can learn how to act.  Make me better, Lord, as a person, mother, wife, teacher, and woman.  I will praise You forever. Amen."

Sparrows (and other little things)

^"29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.³⁰ And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. ³¹ So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Matthew 10: 20-32

 "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" (Matthew 6:26)

     I've always loved these verses of scripture that remind us of how God feels about us as well as the song they are said to inspire.  That song, "His Eye is on the Sparrow" written by Cevilla Martin, has always spoken to me in an intense way, especially the key line that says, "His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me."  I am in awe that I serve a Creator who takes care of even the smallest of His creations.  What is even more humbling to me is that He doesn't just watch over me, insignificant speck that I am, He also cares for the "insignificant" parts of my life.  Why is it He does so?  He has an entire universe under His watch and care, so surely I can tend to the little things in life, right?  Even if I mess up the little things, they aren't going to destroy my being, so why does He feel the need to tend to my tiniest of woes?  Let's think about it...
     I found myself with only my youngest of children at home the other evening, which rarely happens.  Princess was with Papaw, Tinker had charmed Dean into taking her with him on the tractor, and Bubby was left with me.  He was grumpy from allergies and not at all happy about being left behind.  At 14 months old, he didn't understand why a little case of allergies made a ride through a hay field with Dad a bad idea.  In an attempt to cheer him up, I did what I knew he would love best...I took him outside.  Those who know me, know that this is a big deal.  I am not crazy about being outside just for the sake of being outdoors.  I have no problem with the outdoors, I just get bored hanging out in the yard.  I really wanted to be inside cleaning up so that I could get in bed as early as possible, but I knew it would help Bubby's mood, so out we went.  I've already confessed that I'm bad at imaginative play, but in addition, I'm also bad at coming up with a way to play outside (I mean that is why we bought a swing set, right?).  At a loss for what to do, I walked him around the yard, looked at the butterflies on the butterfly bush, knocked off the tiny flowers on the white crepe bush, piled the few dead leaves up in a tiny bunched for him to stomp through, and had a little tickle fight on the ground.  The tickle fight was his favorite part.  He'd throw his little head back and let out a laugh that surely started in his toes.  He'd start laughing before my hands could even touch him.  He looked at me with those blue eyes that you could swim laps in, and I know for sure that I saw true joy deep within them.  Then it hit me.
     It was the small gestures of my attention that made him so joyful.  The time and effort I put into helping him forget how bad he felt made him feel loved.  At one point, he wrapped his chubby little arms around my neck and planted a slobbery kiss right on my face.  Would he have been okay if I had stayed in and let him follow me from room to room while straightening up?  Sure, but he would have been miserable and the mood would probably have worn off onto me.  Why then, would I put off things that had to be done in order to just cheer him up and tend to the little problems in his life?  Because I love him, of course.  A sense of renewal ran through me as I realized that God wants to do just that for us.  He wants to take us out of our sour mood and show us the beauty and joys of life.  He wants to give us moments of love and affection.  He wants us to know that even the little moments matter, and we're not alone.  What a wonderful Savior we have.  
  If ever you feel alone, ladies, just remember, you serve a God of the details.  For surely, if His eye is on the sparrow, He's watching you and me too.

"God, I'm so in awe of Your love, that I am truly speechless in Your presence.  Thank You for caring about the little things.  I will love, praise, and worship You forever."