Momtropolis: Who's In Charge Around Here?

 
Ever feel like you're running a small city of crazies? Wondering how you became Mayor of Loudville with skyscrapers of laundry and towers of dishes as your empire?

Welcome to Momtropolis.

Sometimes there are days when I get up on time, wash my face, make my bed, have the lunches already made, get the laundry folded AND put away, sneak in a phone call over nap time, and prepare an edible meal for my family before the sun sets. These days are RARE.

Usually, I'm fighting chaos. It's a valiant effort, but I almost always feel ill-equipped, underprepared, and utterly exhausted. I find myself overwhelmed by tasks and to-dos, beating down demons of insecurity and envy, and doing my best to combat mommy guilt or the disappointment of not getting enough done.

Sigh. Running Momtropolis is hard work, right? It's easy to ask "HOW did I end up here? WHY are these yahoos ordering me around? WHO is in charge around here?"

Kids are irrational little beings, demanding attention and needing constant supervision while incessantly asking questions as they explore new territories of the world around them. In short - they are crazy people. Even when the day runs smoothly, these tyrants are fighting for authority.

It's easy for me to look at my kids and think I couldn't possibly be the best person to be in charge around here. Surely there is someone better suited for the job, some other mother who they'd rather have bossing them around and teaching them with far more patience and love than I have to give.

Then I remember - Momtropolis is not a Democracy. My kids didn't vote me into office. They didn't have a say in what kind of mom they got. They got me. And I was placed here by the King Himself.

Momtropolis is a Monarchy. As a daughter of the King, I'm poised for the distinct honor of carrying out His purpose for our little domain. I inherited these blessings, to oversee with His guidance and protection. I'm going to make mistakes, I'm going to totally blow it at times; but, my loving Ruler is consistently there for me to lean on and turn to and gain reassurance that He entrusts these things to me because I totally entrust them to Him.

I can't do this job without Jesus. Bottom line. I'm so grateful that I'm not the be-all-end-all final word when it comes to raising these adorable lunatics. I'm so glad my salvation doesn't depend on my ability to fold laundry. I'm incredibly humbled that my relationship with God isn't contingent on how well my kids turn out. It's these truths that offer me peace in the midst of Momtropolis. And, when I look around and feel lost in the middle of my own town, I turn to the King for direction.

Be encouraged, mamas, you Mayors of Toddlertowns and Babyvilles. You don't feel in charge because you don't need to be! You have a sovereign King who appointed you to your privileged position with the title of MOM, and He is there to provide you the support, guidance, and hope you need to make it to tomorrow.

Let this passage from Ephesians encourage you today:

I ask him to strengthen you by his Spirit - not a brute strength but a glorious inner strength - that Christ will live in you as you open the door and invite him in. And I ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you'll be able to take in with all the followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ's love...God can do anything you know - far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us. - Ephesians 3: 15-18, 20

Early Easter: Teaching Your Kids About the Death and Resurrection of Christ

Easter is early this year. It feels strange, shopping for chocolate bunnies and hiding eggs before the grass even needs to be mowed. Spring break has sent me into a tailspin of parent-overtime, keeping my kids from fighting and trying to make the most of our time together while maintaining my sanity (no easy feat!)

It's easy to get overwhelmed by everyday life, let alone the prep for a major holiday. I get easily distracted by the pastel brouhaha that Easter brings with it. One step into any retail store and you're practically accosted with spring fever.

With Easter being this early, I'm particularly overcome with the responsibility of appropriately teaching my children the true meaning of Easter. I get hung up on nuances of doctrine or which passage to read to them, then I get frustrated when they won't sit still and listen or if they change the subject back to bunnies and candy. I worry about whether the Scripture will sink into their hearts or if the power of the Resurrection will ever make its way past their ears and into their souls. I get anxious about the story being too scary, too gruesome, or whether I'm making it too child-proof for it to have the impact it needs. Good grief!

Do you have these worries? Do you second guess yourself enough that you avoid the topic altogether? You are in good company, friend!

When I get perplexed by where to begin, I take a breath, I give up, I thank the Holy Spirit for His presence and allow Him to actually do His job (which I have failed at yet again). I don't know about you, but I'm a terrible Holy Spirit! I so quickly take it upon myself to drive truth into the hearts of my children that I can completely discount the power God has on their individual hearts. I'm so glad I have the privilege of being their mother - and not their Savior! 

Easter may be early this year, but it's always the right time for truth. I absolutely believe that reading the Scriptures aloud to your children is wonderful and beneficial. But, if you're kids are squirrelly like mine and you both need a digestible way to learn about Easter, check out The Jesus Storybook Bible. Our church gifts this children's Bible when babies are dedicated, and I absolutely adore it.

For Good Friday:
I couldn't find an easy online version of "The Sun Stops Shining" chapter which is perfect for reading about the crucifixion, so, this is the best I could do... (credit to Zondervan for the material below and hopefully they don't make me take down these photos of their beautiful book)

For Easter:
But, I did find this video version (below) of the Resurrection chapter titled "God's Wonderful Surprise" that you and your kiddos can watch for Easter! ENJOY!

When you feel overwhelmed by the wonder of Christ's sacrifice for us - let your kids see that! It is normal to feel strong emotions when we reflect on the truth about Easter. I do my best to trust God to fill in the blanks where I fall short as a parent. I know I can't perfectly dictate His Words into their little hearts, and I'll never be the example of His love that Jesus was.

But, this early Easter, I'm compelled to TRUST - wholly and completely - in His power, His perfection, His plan. Thanks be to God for sending His Son, for the death and the Resurrection.

Happy Easter - He is Risen!

Ain't No One Got Time For That: True Self-Care For Mamas

I'm really good at chatting about self-care. I have my Masters in Marriage & Family Therapy, after all. I have three children and put on deodorant today, for heaven's sake. I have a marriage that still makes me smile and remembered to schedule my six-month dentist check-up only 10 months after the last one! I mean, I'm seriously good at this self-care business, right?

If you're like me, you are great at telling others how to take better care of themselves, but slipping slowly down the sub-par slope yourself. Cringing yet?

As mothers, we deal daily in the chores of sympathy, compassion, care, and inevitably spread ourselves too thin across the needs of our family, all in the name of love. This is wonderful. This is often necessary. But, this is not sustainable. 

Yesterday, I joined a Bible Study that "I don't have time for", "It's just far enough away to be too far", "I don't even know if anyone I know will be there", "I'm not even sure what they are studying", and "I'm not sure I want to commit or feel obligated to keep going".

Sound familiar?

I can easily think of a million reasons not to go. I have plenty of dishes/laundry/cooking that I could fill that time-slot with. I didn't even want to tell anyone I was considering going in case I backed out at the last minute.

Then I remembered that in the last two years, God brought me through the absolute busiest time of my life. With two children, I got through grad school, held a part-time job, and had a book published, and somehow managed to not completely have my brain melt.

God was faithful, and while I have no desire to relive that kind of manic schedule, I know that He provides what I need when I need it - including time (and especially time to worship Him)!

I often forget that true self-care starts from the inside out. Soul care doesn't just happen on its own. 

I don't just feel joyful because of the "stuff" I have or the blessings around me. I don't just automatically desire to read the Bible every day because it's the "right thing to do". I don't constantly thank Jesus for saving me simply because I should. AND I SHOULD...but, reality holds obligations, deadlines, crying babies, phone calls, and dentist appointments that I allow to get in the way.

It's easy to think that something so basic as taking care of ourselves should come naturally. But, I'm here to tell you that it's OKAY to schedule it in. Do it!

You don't have to join a Bible Study. That's not necessarily the answer for you in the season you are in. But, how are you taking care of yourself? Wine nights with girlfriends and the occasional mani/pedi might be what most mommy blogs are urging you to do - but I'm here to ask, What are you doing to pamper your soul?

I'm learning how to do this right alongside you, mamas. I am thick in the struggle of balancing all the spinning plates while riding a unicycle, just like you are. I pray every day that I will appreciate this season, even through the groggy fog of sleep deprivation and the sounds of whiney children and the reheated cups of coffee.  It's hard.

But, let's remember who is truly spinning all those plates. It's not us. It's certainly not by my strength that my children get hugged and disciplined all in the same day. It's not by my faithfulness that food is on the table or the unfolded laundry keeps us warm day to day.

Give yourself the time-out that a mama sincerely deserves, and let us encourage one another to focus on the One from whom all blessings flow. We all got time for that.

If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me. - Jeremiah 29:13 NLT 

 

Verses For a Taxing Day

It's been a taxing day.  And I'm not talking W-4's and 1099's.

My girls (3 and 5) are just fighting.  Fighting allergies.  Fighting frustrations.  Fighting each other.  And fighting the plague of impatience that seems to have settled upon our house lately.

If you have (or used to have) little ones, you get how intolerably frustrating the sounds of whining, bickering, and demanding can be.  The incessant "Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom..." echoes through my ears like a fire alarm that won't quit (and whose batteries you hope die out before you smash it to smithereens).

My sleep is constantly disturbed.  The to-do list keeps growing.  The rain won't stop long enough to reprieve our cabin fever.  The noise-level in the home is having a contest with my blood pressure to see which one sky rockets faster. You get the picture?

Needless to say, we all have our moments where we wake up and just think "This is the life I chose and love...but, I just can't quite remember why at this very moment!"

Take a deep breath with me if you can relate.  Exhale.  I don't know about you, but I need a big mid-month dose of PEACE right about now.  I need me a serious gulp of PERSEVERANCE followed by a chaser of HOPE.

Drink up the truth.  Throw it back like a crazy lady who lives in the reckless abandon of a Sovereign Savior who's got this nutty world in the palm of His hand.  Join me in throwing my arms up in the air and letting Christ have the last word on WHY I'm in this time and place and how it makes a difference.

I hope you read the verses in this post and feel soothed, energized, encouraged, and restored.  I hope you remember you are so not alone!  Taxing days come and go.  We may not always get all the sleep we need.  We may not always get the to-do list completed.  But we can always rest knowing He's got it under control.

Maybe you don't have toddlers screaming in your face.  Maybe you have far deeper struggles than you know what to do with.  We've all got taxes to pay for the life that we lead.

But, no matter if you're tackling a laundry pile or a mountain of strife, HE CARES.

I leave you today with this prayer from the book "Calm My Anxious Heart" by Linda Dillow:

God, you know my feelings are going haywire; they scream and shout that this situation is terrible and that there is no hope.  God, I hope in You.  I can't see what You are doing, but I trust that You're working this situation together for good.  Thank You that You have promised to use it to make me more liek Christ.  Thi sis what I want - it just doesn't feel good today.  Give me the strength to focus my eyes on you and not on what I can see.

Christmas Wars: Why Everyone Needs to Chill Out About Santa vs. Jesus

We've got ten days until Christmas.  Are you feeling overwhelmed? *hug*

I don't know about you, but it seems like every day I see a new article or blog floating around the Internet about people's take on Christmas traditions:

Why we don't let our children do Elf on the Shelf.  Why we don't lie to out kids about Santa.  Why our kids only get three gifts just like the wise men gave. Why the way we celebrate Christmas is the way Jesus intended it to be celebrated. (Okay, maybe not the last one, but they all pretty much have the same subtext!)

And on and on.

People are all OVER the spectrum on the whole Santa vs. Jesus topic, and their not afraid to spill their guts out about why their approach is the most intricately considered method that will deliberately help mold their child for the better.

Well, that's all quite fine.  But, frankly, as long as you are keeping Jesus and family at the center, then I. JUST. DON'T. CARE. how you go about doing it.  Santa, no Santa.  Elf, no Elf.  Candy and presents, simple Stockings.   Gluten free fruitcake, gingerbread houses.

I'm over it.  I read these articles and I start doubting my parenting.  I get fearful I've already gone too far down the Santa path.  I get anxious I'm accidentally raising spoiled rotten heathens who will grow up to  be liars and thieves.  Am I a hypocrite for hiding the Elf and then taking my kids to church?  Geesh, you gotta be careful who you tell your approach to these days or you might be eternally judged for where you lie on the Santa spectrum!

The number of Nativities in my home makes me no more of a Christian than before.  Asking my kids what they want from Santa for Christmas makes me no less of a Christian either.  And, my kids will not grow up to be psychopaths - well, at least not because our Christmas traditions steered them down the wrong road.  Of this, I am certain.

I'm not here to defend the Elf on the Shelf or tell you that you should hop on the Santa bandwagon or even to get you to realize that (hello?) JESUS is and always will be the true reason for the season.

Choosing Christmas traditions has become just as distracting as the new Target commercials (I can not get "Marshmallow World" out of my head!) We're ALL inundated with ads for toys and deals and food that distracts us from the precious miracle of Christ.  Must we add to this dilemma by filling up the cracks with fear and doubt about how we survive this season?  Do we need to criticize each others' parenting approaches and Christmas customs as part of our Christian duty?  I'm gonna say "um, no."

Parents.  Simmer down. 

As a mother, I absolutely love this season of celebration with my kids.  As a consumer, I like the glitz and glam and the hubbub of finding the perfect gift for someone. As a Christian, I weep at the thought of how miraculous the true story of Jesus' birth affects me to this day.  As a future Marriage & Family Therapist, I sleep well at night knowing that Santa or Elf on the Shelf are not to blame for the corruption of children everywhere.

There are far more important battles to fight here, folks.  We've all got plenty to lay down at the feet of Jesus and lift up in prayer.  We've got burdens and worries and broken hearts aplenty.  No doubt this world is filled with enough fear and guilt as it is.  Let's let this one go.

Every Christian family celebrates the birth of Christ differently.  And as Believers, we can keep Jesus on center stage while still watching "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" with our kids.  We have the freedom to worship the birth of our Savior and then eat an entire plate of peppermint bark.  We can teach our kids our family traditions (from grandma's cookie recipe to Elf on the Shelf) while keeping the reality of Jesus fresh all year round.

We need no less balance this time of year than any other season in our lives.  Period.

Chill out, guys, it's gonna be okay.  Be merry.  Be bright.  If we can all team up and keep Jesus in our traditions, however that looks, then December 25th will be all the more miraculous.

Older Than Jesus

Well, yes, today is my birthday.  It always sneaks up on me somehow, just like Christmas or Easter or any other "holiday" that are like spokes in the calendar wheel of my life spinning way too fast.  Here again already? Wait, what?  I trust you know exactly what I mean.

A few years back, I remember that Coca-Cola had a ad campaign about celebrating the 25th anniversary of Diet Coke.  It was then that I realized I was older than Diet Coke.  This seemed unfathomable.  Like a staple in my life that I figured had always been around suddenly told me I was a fossil.

Today I turn older than Jesus.  The big 3-4.

me and my people.  we tough. 

Okay, let's not get into theological semantics about how Jesus has actually existed forever, etc.  I get it, yes yes yes.  But, we know He lived on Earth in human form and was crucified at the age of 33...so, in my head, in my image of who Jesus is as a man on this planet - He is sort of eternally 33.  Does that make sense?

My whole life, Jesus has been older.  When I was a child, He was just flat-out old.  Then, as time will have it, we aligned to be peers more and more.  While my understanding and wisdom is severely (severely) lacking in comparison, I could imagine life more and more as a human adult the closer and closer I got to it.

Now, there's just no denying I'm a grown-up.  Now, when I look at paintings or drawings of the imagining of what Jesus looked like - I'll always be older than Him.  I will have a new perspective of imagining what it would have been like to know and live with Jesus as an older-than-Him friend.

This is bizarre for me!  I don't know about you, but for me, I haven't followed the example of a lot of people who were younger than me.  Most of my life, I look to those who've lived longer; I turn to those who have greater experience than me to teach me the most.

Yet, now I can sort of imagine a new perspective of a person in the Bible - the person who met Jesus and may have thought "THIS guy?  But he's so young!  He's only been doing ministry like a few YEARS or so!?  Why should I follow him?  How could He understand my life?"

It's tempting in this life to think that only the oldest, wisest, most experienced people could teach me the most.  It's been nice to have the excuse of youth to fall back on when poor choices are made.  But, there is so much greater freedom in embracing the idea that I will never ever be perfect in this life; and there is such insurmountable hope found in the fact that God exposes me to grace and love and wisdom from the most unlikely of places and people.

Granted, I might not yet be old enough to yell at the neighbor kids to get off my lawn or eat dinner at 4:30 in the afternoon.  But, I'm old enough to know that I don't know everything and I never will.  It's refreshing and relieving, and not at all disappointing like I would have thought many years ago.  At this point in my life, as a grad student and mother, I'm humbled daily at how much there is to learn (over and over and over again) in this life.  And I look forward to spending the coming years (hopefully many!) learning from the unexpected.

After all, the most important lessons of my life came from some young carpenter chap who had the reputation for stirring up trouble in the temple.

Depression and The Art of Brokenness

If there was ever a week to write about depression, this seems to be it.

I've debated for days whether to step into the conversation or not, or how to go about doing so, as the web seems to be inundated with expressions of honesty, grief, judgment, confusion, and all sorts of grasping-for-answers editorials following the suicide of Robin Williams.

With the genocide that's taking place elsewhere in the world, I'm both dumbfounded at the publicity one celebrity's crisis can cause, yet grateful for the moment being taken to address the seriousness of mental illness.  Horrific things happen.  Everywhere.  We are a broken world.

We are all living in a turbulent space where we can watch silly cat videos on YouTube one second and directly follow them up with reading an article about the beheading of Christians an ocean away.  Then we click our iPhone off and stir our spaghetti and send our kids to time-out and distract ourselves with the only constants we can depend on like laundry and dirty dishes, and the world continues to spin.  Messed up, right? This is the broken world we live in, and we're all doing our best to survive.

I don't have anything to say about Robin Williams.  I didn't know him any better than most of you, and while I'm incredibly indebted to him to have experienced narratives through his lens as an actor, I truly knew nothing of him as a person, let alone a fellow broken human being.  This is to say, I want to tell you about my depression, and I don't want to mislead you in anyway that I have an inkling as to what he felt or experienced in any way, shape, or form.

That's one of the mysteries of depression - there are enough commonalities with the diagnosis that we can draw a line in the sand and say "You need help, and You don't" (by the way, FALSE, we all need help) but it runs a wide spectrum of actual experience, and therefore confusion tends to build with each and every story that's expressed.

I can remember the day when I woke up and took my first Zoloft.  I remember thinking "Today, I'm a person who has to be medicated to function normally."  It felt awful.  There was nothing courageous or hopeful about it for me in the moment.  I felt weak, dumb, inadequate, and questioned the God I kept placing my faith in.  Where was He?  Why didn't I feel better?  How could this be His best for me?

I felt very alone. I had never known anyone who was depressed before, let alone someone who needed to be medicated for it.  In fact, it would be years before I would find out that I actually did know people around me at the time who had gone through similar experiences, but at this point in my life it was quite taboo to talk about such things, so I became as secretive as they had in my going to therapy and seeking help.  So, I created my own silo to heal in, and rarely let anyone in.

I didn't know how to feel, why to feel, or what to change in order to feel differently.  I could list reasons for days of everything I had to live for, be grateful for, to praise God for; yet the cloud would not lift.  I could smile at parties, put on a decent facade, and only hours later be fighting demons in the night that held my joy hostage.

The bottom line was, I didn't know what to do.  There were times when suicide seemed rational.  Times when building a time machine and going to live in a new universe seemed more plausible than ever finding actual healing.  Times when I wished God hadn't burdened those around me with my existence.  Times I have every reason to feel shame for, yet by the grace of God can only look back on with gratitude and heartache.

It's been a good ten years since those times.  I would not be so bold as to say "I'm healed."  I don't think I will say that until the day I meet my Savior face to face.  There are grains of depression still seeded in my soul, and there are battle wounds left to remind me of that from which I'm in remission.

Depression, for me, was a perfect storm which I survived, not unscathed.  It was biological, circumstantial, hormonal, environmental, spiritual, and psychological.  It's root was multi-faceted, and therefore, my treatment became mulit-sourced.  Every part of my life was affected by my depression, therefore, every part of my life had to be marked by change as I changed.

Little by little, the cloud dissipated, and I live a life free from the grip of depression today.  Let it not go unnoticed that for years, I thought this was impossible.  I thought this kind of freedom was reserved for those luckier than I - those who were privileged with extreme optimism, deeper faith, or extraordinary support.  Yet, here I am, a survivor and ever grateful.

We can't live in silos any longer.  I'm joining the conversation of depression with this post because I want to continue the exposure, and extinguish the stigma.  The shame that's attached to depression is rooted in an insecurity that we all have: the thought that I can't handle this.  That's right.  YOU CAN'T.  We were not meant to handle life alone.  We were not made to hide from help.  We were not created to shut out sources of healing.  And, as grisly or uncomfortable as this life gets, the only way to break down these silos is to share our broken hearts and stories of healing.

Christ alone has the power to bring recovery - but, He most often is gracious to include us in the process.  My recovery included dozens of people, books, therapists, science, medication, encouraging words, loving acts of service, prayer, and the list goes on an on.  Christ utilizes time, resources, and relationships.  He didn't create us to find power within ourselves, He made us to relate to one another in our weaknesses, finding Him through the process.

Guys - I'm becoming a THERAPIST.  I'm joining the professional industry of mental health workers out there, and I'M A BROKEN PERSON.  I hope this sinks in for you.  I'm not "fixed and ready to fix others".  I'm actively seeking help from multiple sources on a consistent basis, and I am honored to join in the process of someone else on their journey of reaching out for help.

A decade ago, I was embarrassed to admit I needed help.  I was ashamed I saw a therapist.  And now I'm becoming one.  Don't worry, I'm not trying to recruit you.  Not all of us were called to a mental health as a vocation; but ALL of us have a story, a voice, a time and place we can reach across silos and expose brokenness for what it really is:  LIFE.

This life is ugly, filled with doubt and horror, but we are not alone, and we are not without hope.  The stories that bring us together are often the hardest ones to tell.  Encourage bravery, seek help, and take confidence that our story is not yet finished.

Ugly Easter

I just googled "Easter".  I don't know why I'm surprised, but I find it discouraging that it took 40 images of bunnies, eggs, and candy before an image of the cross appeared.  Really?  Forty chicks and ducks and pastel colored whatchamacallits before stumbling upon an image reminiscent of the true meaning of Easter?

I love Easter.  I've loved it since the spring of my childhood when I can remember picking out white patent leather shoes and a new dress to wear to church for Easter Sunday.  I love the traditions of the holiday, from the creepy guy dressed up in the giant bunny suit (okay, not that as much maybe) to the brightly colored eggs hidden across a fresh green lawn just waiting for children to find.  I love the meal, the family gathering, the baskets, the candy, and all the fresh, spring-timey colors that help announce warmth and light are risen indeed.

 But, as a Christian, I can't love all the beauty of Easter without also falling in love with the gore behind it.  Lest I forget that the first Easter began as a horror story; a confusing, unjustifiable nightmare that real, live people witnessed and took part in.  I can not turn my face to the sun without acknowledging the darkness behind us.   Good Friday is just a few days away, and I can't help but imagine what that first holy week felt like for so many.

Easter sermons, reading the Bible, and even watching films that depict the crucifixion allow us to know and imagine much of what happened leading up to Jesus' death.  I have a hard time grasping the reality of what Jesus endured because it is just so unfathomable as a human.  But, when I look at the faces of his friends, when I imagine the heart of his mother, Mary, I shudder at the thought of how utterly human they were in those moments.  While Jesus was 100% human, he was also 100% God; something that I'm very limited in empathizing with.

But, I can much more easily relate to those who witnessed the death of the Messiah, and it is very nearly equally unfathomable.  As many questions as we have today about faith and theology, can you imagine how confusing it must have been for them back then?  Not knowing what was going to happen to Jesus???  I can't imagine it!  The truth is, that first Easter wasn't pristine and celebrated with lilies and new dresses.  That first Easter was ugly and confusing right up until the very last moment.

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again!

Today, we have the luxury of learning the story of Easter from the end to the beginning.  We celebrate the resurrection because we know He died on the cross three days prior; but, I take for granted the fact that there was a time when people didn't know that.  There was a time when Jesus was dead.  There was a time when Jesus was mourned for.  There was a time when Jesus was gone.  I can't understand that.  I can't emotionally grasp what that must have been like.  I never want to know that feeling, and I'm grateful I didn't have to endure it.

Instead, we have the immense privilege of remembering on Good Friday and not enduring.  We don't have to ever live without the knowledge that JESUS IS ALIVE and nothing will every change that.  And while we get distracted by the ham, the flowers, the egg hunts, and shiny shoes...let's not forget this weekend that we are so insanely blessed to live in this time and space where we can grasp the entire story of Easter and its true meaning.

As you're stuffing candy into little plastic eggs, as you're picking out your Sunday best, and as you're Pinteresting those last minute recipes, set aside a moment to slow down and remember the entirety of Easter.  It might take 40 images to get to the cross on google, but it only takes one prayer to transport me right back at the feet of Jesus.

Thank you, Jesus, for the cross.  Thank you for bearing what I can not.  Thank you for taking on the worst parts of me, the stuff I don't even realize, the stuff I never reveal, the stuff I can never admit.  Thank you for providing a way for me to know God, eternally.  Thank you for loving me unconditionally, choosing to endure every pain possible over letting me go.  Thank you for the grace you offer so freely and so undeservingly.  Keep me humble, God.  Keep me patient.  Keep me remembering.  Keep me present at Your feet.  Thank you for Easter.

Red Flags

Dear Self,

Watch out for red flags in life.  Sure, there are the regular dangers - obvious temptations that most are
 normally guarded against.  Things like lust, gluttony, hatred...those things are commonly repulsive and there's often support to build up the moral courage to avoid them.

But, lately, there've been other red flags.  Flags I'm not so sure you're aware of and I want to hit you over the head before you become completely blind to them.  These are the red flags of distraction.

Your iPhone has a giant red flag, your computer, your stack of homework in the corner over there.  Your bills, your blog, your Facebook, your calendar, your Instagram, even your devotional that you don't read every day (might I take this opportunity to remind you to not forget about that one entirely).  These things are not good or bad.  They just are...and they are enormous filler-uppers of your time that you never intended to distract you so completely.

You need to pray about this.  You need to hand over some of the control that you are disillusioned into thinking you have.  You need to lay down these "priorities" and stop considering these options as if they are obligations.  They are not.  Not when you have reality flashing before your face at lightning speed, and you are losing sight of the fact that the present is turning into the past faster than you can type about it.

Turn the tv off.  Put the iPhone down.  Let the blog go for one more day.  Email that person when you actually have time...they'll wait, I promise.  These red flags are stealing more than just moments from your day - they are warning you against true destruction, losing yourself into these objects instead of into purpose.

You can't say no every time to every body; but, you can say yes to the things that matter most, most of the time.  These red flags around you are distracting you from being able to see the joy that surrounds you.  They steal your peace and obstruct your vision for what you want your life and time and energy to be spent on.

Self...take a deep breath.  You are not going to get this right the first time.  Ask God for extra grace as you take little steps in practicing new patterns, praying your way into a routine that seeks calm and reveres quiet.  These distractions don't have to be put to death, you can still write, still read, still peruse the status updates and photos of your friends...but, all in due time.  Embrace the freedom to take part in it all, and allow yourself the pleasure of being able to do so, instead of feeling burdened by thinking you are "so needed" and allowing your thoughts to be pulled in chaotic directions.

Be thankful for the red flags.  These distractions are warning signs, flashy and justified and sometimes intended for the good of others - but, they are toxic when overused, misused, abused, or dominating time that is meant for your calling.  Time better spent in the present.  Energy better used in being vulnerable.  Life better lived for His glory.

Pluck the red flags out, replace them with white ones, and surrender your burdens to the One who will never fail you when it comes to time management.  Yes, Jesus even cares about the loudest of moments, the craziest and most chaotic of schedules, and He's here to help you sort through the rubble and see a clearer picture of how this all fits together.  Let Him take His time with you.  He's never late.

One more deep breath.

Emily

Naturally

Motherhood is sneaky.  It gets crazier and more challenging by the hour, yet exponentially rewarding as it dominates life with no warning.  Even in those early hours of becoming a mother, when my baby was still under the supervision of doctors and nurses; when the congratulatory balloons in the corner haven't lost their deflation, and neither had my belly, the idea of becoming a mother was still comforted by the ideal that "my maternal nature is sure to kick in now".

The early days of motherhood are sacred.  This new creature overwhelmed my mind, body, and spirit, and what was a concept growing inside my body mere moments ago suddenly became a tangible expression of unconditional love.  The idea of this agape started as soon as that pregnancy test first glowed with positivity, yet it wasn't until actually holding the person that embodied this ideal that made me first step back and gasp at my arrogance: How could I have ever possibly thought I knew how to do this?

The only thing that can prepare you for being a mother is having a child.

Now, it's been a little over four years since I first held my eldest daughter in my arms, and I continue to look at both my girls with giddiness and fear.  These are MY children? How do I do this? Motherhood does not come naturally, no matter your background, training, experience, or expectation.  It boggles my mind every single day.

There's nothing natural about putting my body through excruciating aches and pains to deliver a new person into the world. There's nothing natural about getting up in the middle of the night a dozen times to feed, change, or just want to stare at this little human.  There's nothing natural about worrying irrationally about new fears I never even knew I had simply because my new responsibility to another can be too much to bear.

There's nothing natural about craft parties at 5 in the morning, about watching Curious George on my cell phone in the middle of a grocery store, about owning 14 tutus and 8 princess dresses (estimate), about getting irrationally angry and punching the wall because I stepped on another lego and just about broke my neck.  There's nothing natural about washing sippy cups, carrying crayons at the bottom of my purse at all times, or making up songs about poop.

There's nothing natural about getting screamed in the face, thrown-up on, snuggled to a suffocating degree, and then wanting to be around this same person with a nearly unhealthy compulsion to kiss her cheeks right off her little face.

There's nothing natural about wanting to meet the needs of someone who literally follows behind my every step deconstructing and destroying the efforts of housekeeping, laundering, cooking, or cleaning that I exhaustedly repeat with no end.

And most of all, there is nothing natural about willingly, uncomfortably, growing and changing into a more selfless person each and every day. But, that's the mystery and beauty of motherhood.

Motherhood makes no sense.  It's a perfect reflection of God's magical, perfect, insanely irrational love for us.  There is nothing natural about it, because every maternal instinct I have in me - to love, care, and give beyond myself - is absolutely the love of Jesus seeping through my body out into the open world.

I mess it up all the time.  I yell at my kids, I keep them in time out too long, I feed them pita chips and fruit snacks for breakfast, I strap them in their car seats and take them for a drive cause I am too frustrated to want to chase them around the house or peel them off the walls one more time.  And, each and every time I am reminded how ridiculously wonderful and scary it is that I'm given the opportunity to be Jesus to these little humans.  I'm so grateful to worship a God who gave us His Son and His Word to turn to when I feel so out of my element.

There are so many incredible aspects and gifts that come out of motherhood.  When I see my girls giggling or sharing or singing, I'm glimpsing at bits of heaven here on earth.  But, one of the greatest parts of motherhood I never saw coming:  laying down my ideals for what I thought would come so naturally, and accepting the amazing truth that what comes unnaturally is so, so much better.

301

This is my 301st blog post.  When did that happen?!

I don't know whether that number seems impressive to you or not, but I can tell you one thing - I never saw it coming.  When I started PARDYMAMA about 4 years ago, I was sitting in a cubicle, bored out of my gourd and looking for an outlet.

I would peruse the internet in between tasks like every other red-blooded American out there, and I read a variety of blogs, all having been established for years and very clear with their message, voice, and content.  When I would consider starting up something of my own, the idea was always quickly devoured by insecurities:  What did I have to say?  Who cared?  Would anyone read it?  Do I have time for this?  What if people hate it?  Am I even good at this?  And so forth.

It began sloooowly, and I would still consider it today amidst it's "early stages" though it's clear to me now that it won't be ending any time soon (a foggy option that I have probably considered a dozen times or more in the first couple years).

I started writing simply because it was 1) something to fill my time, 2) a creative outlet for me, and 3) what I needed.  How much I needed it, or even why was still beyond my grasp, but it wasn't long before my habit for writing grew into a full-blown addiction.

I struggled for years to seek out a real "passion".  I had a plethora of interests, I had a shallow-yet-diverse scope of talents to choose from (jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none, so to speak).  And yet, I wrote and wrote with no neon signs pointing me towards a clear goal of achieving anything of grand significance. I wrote for myself, about myself, and primarily continue to do so today.  My writing process has always consisted of three simple steps:  Ponder, Pray, Publish.  That's it.  That's my magic formula.

I see many friends grapple with the notion of finding a "passion".  And, in today's "gotta-be-somebody" world, this overused term can paralyze the most gifted of hearts and minds.  The pressure to feel valued in a singular talent or to find the majority of your life's satisfaction within a mere resume of feats is altogether disillusioning to any normal human.  We are all pretty good at a lot of things, but very very very few of us are spectacular at a solitary task.

Toss out the word "passion".  Just crumple it up and curb that sucker.  Instead - take inventory:  What do you spend your time doing?  Why?  We live in chaos and stress ourselves out over the mundane chores of the day, but when we can step back and look at our routines we might start to find some consistencies, some patterns that we find we simply can't live without.

This is life, this is what you are alive for.

I was living my life's "calling" for years before I stood back and appreciated it for what it was.  I was just being me, being honest, following Christ as best I could, living out the process that it takes for me to function and improve and fail and need and seek and find and start all over again.  And 300 blog posts later, I still fight the same old insecurities I did from day one.  I still have obstacles that get in the way of my calling.  And as much as I need and love to write, it's still work for me.  Nobody ever tells you that about "passion".  No one ever says "it's what you're best at, but it just might kill you".

Let go of the pressure and pray through those insecurities.  Keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other, and let us encourage one another in the plight against passion and instead seek out the beauty of the patterns that make us who we are.  Let's ask God for the continued grace to give us the opportunities to live out our lives in the way He deems best, worthy of the hard work it requires from our weary selves.

Stop looking for your passion.  You're already living it.

Fresh Start

I'm BACK!  Hello world, hello new year, hello FRESH START and new beginnings.

Last year was CRAZY and I don't expect any less insanity in 2014.  It will surely be different craziness, as I don't plan on moving 2,000 miles with two toddlers and embarking on a entirely new course for my life by starting grad school.  Still, the year ahead marks a milestone of transition that is in process as we continue to grasp our bearings on our new life in Nashville.

For many of you, the new year started last week, when the clock struck midnight and your diet kicked into full swing.  But, despited the blanket of ice that has immobilized the surrounding metropolis, today is a day of MOVEMENT in my soul for the coming months ahead.

Each year brings change.  Change is rarely comfortable, and so preparing for a new horizon of possibilities can feel daunting at times.  As I rested over the holidays (oh, and also worked my buns off at the mall handling the wackiest of customers) I was reminded how my actions are merely a reflection of the strength God provides me.

I do because He did.  Not the other way around.

I felt fear in looking ahead at my schedule for the coming year:  All the obligations I have as a mother to wipe noses and make sure I hug and kiss enough and read the right story books and get them to eat at least one vegetable.  All the passion I have as a wife to serve my husband well and encourage him and speak truth to him and love him with genuine respect and admiration and romance.  All the fortitude and determination I sink into being a grad student, the piles of books and papers and the unattainable task to always be the best in class.  All the anxiety and excitement of taking on my first clients for therapy and being vulnerable enough to absorb the critiques of my supervisors.

It's a lot.  It's too much for me.  But, it's not too much for my God, and not a surprise to Him at all that I recognize my weakness through the challenges of the life I'm living.

There are a lot of goals I have for 2014, but essentially they all culminate into one word:  thrive.  I don't want to just survive anymore.  I don't want to just see what's in store for the day and check boxes that get me from A to Z.  I don't want to just look down and see the tracks I've made in the path behind me, but I want to stake out new ground, uncover new strengths, and seek out fresh perspectives that I've never known before.

There are many midnights ahead of us to create, and recreate continual resolutions for the days ahead.  We can each take refuge in the strength we don't have by resting in the assurance of the stronghold that we do.  Thank you God for a fresh start, for the chance to change, to refine, to restore.  Thank you for new years and new opportunities.  Your grace is like new fallen snow, even as my dirty black boots trudge through the unchartered areas.

Thank you for the future.  Here I come.

Classy Mama

Now is the time to look back on the year that has been and start considering the new year to come.  Questions and doubts and fears may arise.

Thoughts such as, What exact life choices have I made that have led me to manically reheat my morning coffee eighteen times before I finish a full mug? Or, When is the last time I have peed at my own pace without being disturbed or answering someone's question by yelling through the door?  Or, a favorite of mine, How exactly did I end up eating leftovers huddled over the kitchen sink so that I didn't have to wash an extra plate?

Real classy stuff.

If any of these precious notions have entered your own brain, rest assured - you're in good company.

Too many times, multiple times throughout my day in fact, I find myself questioning how in the world I ended up in the life I'm living.  It's not a regrettable thought process.  I'm not droning on and on with complaints or groaning and grumbling (well, I have my moments).  But, I'm just amazed at how vastly different my day-to-day life looks compared to what I may have thought 5 or 10 years ago.

Parenthood is different for everyone, but if I've learned one thing in the last several years, it's this:  all parenting is HARD.  It's a ridiculous amount of work that is exhausting and rewarding and we are pressured into thinking that it is always, always, always worthwhile.  I mean, it is (right?) but knowing that we're raising the world's next difference-makers doesn't make the fact that they just hit their sister or are screaming Disney song tunes at the top of their lungs any easier to bear.

PARENTING IS HARD.  It require unreasonable patience, insurmountable compassion, and unattainable energy that no one can dare prepare you for.  The other day I was thinking how no one in the universe would become a parent if they truly knew what they were getting into.  And, then I realized what a perfect scheme plan God had in designing it that way.  God knows we will fully love, fully suffer, fully engage, fully dread, fully give give give to these little people that we fully took part in helping create...and it's an incredible, tangible way for God to REACH US as humans.

So many times (as I nibble my pizza leftovers into the sink) I feel like God is shoving opportunity in my face that I am frustratingly choosing to either take part in or step back from.  Matilda bursts into tears over Daphne taking her toy and I can a) Scream at Daphne and give Matilda her toy back b) Yell at them both to be quiet c) Put someone in time-out d) Throw the toy away e) take a deep breath, look my children in their eyes and explain the concept of sharing AGAIN and talk them through the reconciliation in a calm and civil manner.

Clearly E is the best choice.  If only life were a multiple choice test that I could willingly step back from and fill in the answer to in a quiet setting (never before did I long for such tranquility as sitting and taking an exam) then my children would have the mother I hoped to give them.  You with me???

But, life is not to simple.  Life is disastrous and loud and obnoxious and I fill it with more mistakes than I'd like to admit.  Sometimes I just want to eat my cold lunch in peace and AWAY from the critters that hang on me.  That's okay.  We all need a moment (lots of moments).

There's several habits I'd love to break in the new year (less TV, more dinners at the table, less frustration, more gratitude) but, most of all I just want to expose the fact that HEY - WE ARE TRYING and most of us are raising normal, wonderful children who are acting like blithering monsters half the time.  These are the difference-makers of tomorrow, and it's okay that their mom reheats her coffee yet again because she was busy cleaning cat vomit off the Christmas tree skirt.

As you ponder your resolutions for the new year, won't you join me in extending a little extra grace to yourself?  Part of being a parent is not being perfect.  Part of being a human is needing Jesus.  I have to remind myself of this constantly, and it helps me make it moment by moment.  These times are going to slip away quickly, I don't want to waste any time faking it as a mom.  Keeping it real is keeping it classy when it comes to parenthood.

TBT: Contagious

I wrote this post about a year ago, and I can't believe how LITTLE my baby Daphne was!?  I sure needed this reminder today, to pause and appreciate this season of life that is going to pass by in a flash.  I hope it provides you some focus and encouragement as well.  


Tis the season...for germs.  Time to stuff the stockings with Purrell and trim the tree with Kleenex, right?  Oh man, it seems like just about everywhere I turn someone is coughing or sniffling.  I'm feeling MUCH better (thank you, Lord!) than a few days ago, but awoke Wednesday morning to a sick husband and a sick baby!  (Somehow my three-year-old, Matilda, is so far getting through this week unscathed.  My best guess is that her super-human energy allows her to dodge most germs simply out of sheer speed!)

If anything trumps not feeling well...it's watching those you love not feel well.  Luckily, a couple long naps, vitamins, and decongestants seemed to ward off any real health villains for my husband; but, unfortunately the baby has not been so triumphant.  Is there anything worse than a sick baby?

What's worse (in my book, anyway) is that she didn't catch a cold...she caught a tummy flu bug.  UGH!  Wah-waaaah.  The poor sweetie bear.  Again, the only thing worse than cleaning up disgusting germs is having to watch your pitiful little 16-month-old stare at you blurry-eyed with her sad gaze of "Why mommy?" going unanswered.  Gosh, it just breaks my heart!

Having two kids and one of them be sick is a whole other ball game.  Instead of the usual Get off your sister, you're killing her! you have to referee them with a new initiative:  Don't touch your sister, you'll get sick!  You have to quarantine them both the best you can and about halfway through the day - by the time the sick one has sneezed on the other one, they've accidentally swapped sippy cups, and you catch them cuddling and just can't bear to break up the love-fest...well, you just cross your fingers and pray the plague doesn't go any further.  What's a mom to do?

Taking care of a sick baby is such a weird, odd, terrible little gift that I think God gives us moms.  I mean, it's awful, for sure.  If I could bubble-wrap my kids and shampoo them in Purrell, I'm sure I would, don't get me wrong.  It only takes one heinous Yankee-candle-of-all-diapers to convince you that baby-flu-bug is certainly the doing of the Devil himself.  Ugh.

But, since we do live in a fallen world where illness exists, why not take this moment to try and recognize God among the yuckiness?  Anything's possible here.  So, honestly, I feel the presence of Jesus when I am stopped COLD in my footsteps to throw everything else out the window in that moment and care for my baby.  Dishes stink.  Clothes rumple.  Floors crumb-up.  Whatever.

Daphne has not been able to nap in her crib the last two days.  Not a wink.  I'll rock or nurse her completely to sleep, multiple times, but as soon as I lay her down she springs up screaming and won't stop.  The only way she has been able to sleep during the day has been cuddled up ON me.  The first time was heartwrenchingly wonderful.  Endearing.  The kinds of moments you dream about as a mother.

The next few times...well, it progressively got awkward and a bit burdensome.  With an energetic 3-year old vying for attention, it just wasn't exactly the ideal situation.  Not only that, but when you have a 22 lb. anchor on your chest you can't exactly get anything done during the day.  This is when it occurred to me:  Shut up, Emily.  Sit still.  Look at your baby.  

Whoa, okay.  Right.  Put the iPhone down and focus on the present.  WHY is this so hard to do?  (Granted, I was glad I had the phone there just to capture the moment!)  I want to remember that feeling.  I wish I was the kind of person who never needed to be forced to STOP and smell the roses (or the baby), but I am.  I'm just so grateful that I could soak that up, as best I could (even if there was a dancing Matilda in the background at times) and allow that baby to smother her germy self into my body for that moment.

How many times does this happen in our lives?  How much longer will she turn to me for that amount of comfort?

It's such a challenge to hold still these days.  It's increasingly difficult to be thankful for tiny things like fragile babies with vomit-covered jammies and greasy hair and diaper rash.  It's frustrating to have our daily schedules overturned and interrupted and entirely disregarded.  But...it's so insanely worth it.

We always talk about how this baby/toddler stage of life goes by in a blink.  But, you know, if we can just slow down once in a while (even if that's only when the germs of life slow them down) then we get to capture a silent, beautiful moment where nothing else in the world matters but this sacred, sweet gift of our very own baby needing us for who we are - mom.  It may go by in a blink...but, we're in the midst of it right now...the part where your eyes are closed and you can still hear your heart beating outside your body.  Inhale, exhale.  Everything can wait.


I hope I remember this moment.  Maybe it's even contagious.

Please Pass the Peace

As a freelance writer beyond my own blog, I submit about ten times more content than ever gets seen by an audience.  Material gets used, recycled, or rejected on a regular basis, and that's all part of the joy and creative frustration I have as a writer.   Here is a piece I wrote for a magazine that didn't fit their need (that's nice-talk for "rejected") but I'm sharing with you here! 

How can we handle stressful relationships with family around the holidays?  What can we teach our children about it?

I hope you enjoy my article below - no subscription necessary.  ;)

Thanksgiving is a time to count your blessings, be with your family, and perfect your carving skills on a giant bird straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.  But, let’s face it, not every holiday get-together is quite as picturesque as we may dream it to be.  Often, as we set the table and sit next to those “near and dear” to us, we fill ourselves with more anxiety and stress than stuffing and gravy.  No family is perfect, and that can be magnified this time of year, especially when there are certain individuals in your family that you’d rather not be so hospitable to.

Each family is unique.  Some family members struggle with past grievances, some hold grudges or resentment, and others are in the middle of seeking second chances that are harder to come by than a second helping of mashed potatoes (those are always the first to go at our home!) 

While tensions might rise high among adults, this stress doesn’t have to trickle down onto your children.  In fact, it’s a great opportunity to be an example to them and even teach a lesson or two.  Offering your home as a haven during the holidays is a huge way to indicate to your children that anyone is welcome (barring safety concerns).

The best lesson a child can witness in extending grace and second chances to another family member is this:  Compassion is always the right response.  When you try to understand another person, you start with compassion.  It’s the only response you will never regret, and its power can be contagious.

So, what is compassion?  What does it look like?  

In short, it looks like Jesus!  Sympathizing with others through their suffering, offering to help when and where you can, considering their feelings before speaking or taking action, and extending mercy and kindness beyond expectation.  Sometimes this is as simple as serving a slice of pie and asking how someone is.  Other times it involves awkward hugs and tear-filled piles of Kleenexes.  That’s okay.  There’s no wrong way to offer genuine compassion.  Seek the Holy Spirit in prayer to help show you simple ways to do this in your own family situation.

There is, however, a big difference between compassion and compromise, and that can be hard to remember in the middle of an emotional gathering.  By showing compassion towards someone who has hurt you in the past, it’s valuable to know that it doesn’t mean you are compromising your beliefs or agreeing with their actions.  It’s important to clarify this to your children as well, making sure they understand the difference. 

Just as Jesus grieves our sinful behavior, His pain doesn’t diminish His willingness to forgive us.  He paid the price on the cross, and He’s already rejoicing in our redemption. In the same way, by allowing family members into your home, and by offering them love, forgiveness, and even delicious food, you are showing your children through your actions that you are making an effort to build bridges and restore peace.  Not only will this inspire them to do the same, but it also assures them that you are willing to extend them the same redeeming grace no matter the path their future may take. 

When we show our children the power of forgiveness and the unconditional strength that compassion restores in relationships, it encourages them to love as Jesus loves us.  With that kind of reinforcement of faith in action, I can’t imagine anything better to be grateful for this Thanksgiving. 

What are you thankful for???  Be sure and COMMENT below for your chance to win in this year's Thanks & Giving GIVE AWAY!

Kids for Sale

It's been a trying week.  Work, school, and life in general are swirling about me in non-stop motion.  I told my husband late one night that I felt like I was sucking water from a fire hose underneath an avalanche.  My girls have also been annoyingly "sort of sick" throughout the week.  You know the kind - just sick enough to keep them out of play dates and church nursery, to keep them whining throughout the day and night, to keep them crabby and demanding...but not sick enough to get snuggles or have them slow down at all.  How is it that kids can run a slight fever and run around the house like maniacs all at the same time?

classic hug-turned-strangle situation

Don't get me wrong, of course I don't want my kids to be so sick that they can't play.  I'm glad that their sniffles don't slow them down and that they are generally healthy as caged zoo monkeys.  But, it is exhausting to be with them and trapped in the house day after day trying to not let "The Little Mermaid" songs drive you batty.

As I was folding a volcanic mountain of laundry last night, I realized that God probably infiltrated stay-at-home-motherhood with mundane tasks like that (or doing dishes, or picking up toys, or wiping noses) so that we could feel again and again I'm so good at this to make up for the rest of the day filled with the frustrating doubts and infuriating challenges of thinking I can't handle these kids! What am I doing?!

I might not enjoy folding laundry or doing dishes or generally cleaning up after my little tornadoes, but it does fill me with a sense of pride that I can actually accomplish something ridiculously well in the midst of such loud, incessant, irrational pandemonium.  When I can stack a pile of clothes perfectly straight (which, inevitably get knocked over within seconds of completion), I can take one second of pride in the fact that I'm overqualified for the chores that this job requires.

Then, in the midst of a knock-down-drag-out battle over who gets to buckle Minnie Mouse in the toy stroller, it helps me take a deep breath and remember that I really have NO idea what I'm doing, but I'm still going to be okay.  This is normal.  This is motherhood.  And as quickly as the brawling began, it will all be over and we will probably all be crying into bowls of ice cream at 9 in the morning.

grumpy is as grumpy does

Early in the week, when I could have sworn it was almost bedtime and then realized we hadn't even had lunch yet (tick, tock) I had to just pray pray pray for the fruit of the Spirit to get me through.  I love these little beings more than my own life, and yet there are times I'm ready to post them in the FREE section of craigslist.  As I was literally knocked over the head with a lego block, I clenched my fists and bit my tongue.  And, in that split second all I could think was HOW in the world does God not just smite us all off the face of the planet each and every day?!?

If blatant disobedience, irrational fighting, and incessant demands are all it takes for me to lose my cool (and that's putting it lightly) then I have no capacity for understanding the grace of God and how the heck He compassionately forgives my stupidity day after day, hour by hour.  I need to tap into that mercy.  I need to channel that kind of only-through-Jesus compassion.  I need the patience that surpasses all rationale to be able to be the parent my girls need.

The reality is, I'm going to lose my mind in front of my girls sometimes.  I lose my temper so often I'm thinking of getting a GPS tracker for it.  Praise be, that I live in a place and time where I don't have to parent these hooligans all alone, and I have the greatest resource available as a mother - a Holy Spirit who puts up with my nonsense and extends me ridiculous amounts of undeserved mercy to help me get through the day, and reminds me how priceless this season truly is.

Half Full

Do you ever get up in the morning and just know you're going to have a rough day?  Sometimes just getting out of bed and pouring that first cup of coffee is the only "win" we have all day.  I understand.  Oh boy, do I understand!

For the last few weeks, my husband and I have abruptly woken up to the sound of angry screams and yelling.  Toddlers on the rampage, first thing in the morning. 

Call me crazy, but when I became a parent I envisioned early mornings (maybe not this early) of happy children skipping into our bedroom as we woke up to their smiling faces eager to take on the beauty of a new day.  It's not like I had delusions of perfect lighting and birds singing like in those coffee commercials you see on TV...but, I certainly never anticipated the adrenaline-erupting scene from Rambo that gives me a heart attack each and every day.

I don't know what sets these crazy girls off, but within minutes of waking up, they are screaming and fighting with each other nearly every morning.  Someone bursts into tears and then bursts into our room demanding justice which usually involves the negotiating talents of a Harvard-educated lawyer (neither of which we are) to talk one of them off the ledge.  The momentary apocalypse subsides within minutes, but by this time...well, to say we've been catapulted from the wrong side of the bed is an understatement.

It can take all of my patience, prayers, and poise to pull myself together and not have a sour mood the rest of the day.  You know when you want to punch your family in the face before breakfast, it's going to be a rough one.  Whew.  (Can I get an AMEN?)

You often hear that the best remedy to diffuse a bad attitude is to think of everything you are grateful for.  Ok (deep breath) deal.  I pray, I thank God for my screaming-yet-healthy children, for my home, for my husband, for the coffee I'm making the third round of by this time of the morning, and so forth.  And I am reminded of the old adage to "look at the glass as half full and not as half empty" as they say.  The power of positivity can be incredible, no doubt (thank you, Norman Vincent Peale).

My day can be turned around in this moment, or not.  It's really my choice, and it's a powerful one.  My next prayer is for my attitude to not only change, but to be useful...I'm pouring into two-legged-sponges-with-feisty-brains, after all.  A Mother isn't just a title - it's a lifestyle, 24/7, and I'm going to need that second helping of grace to make it to nap time!

It's during this prayer that I realize my glass isn't half full.  It's FULL.  Really full.  I was so focused on trying to see the half-way mark that I didn't realize there wasn't one.

There's no "half full" with Jesus - it's all or nothing.  Jesus doesn't need me to be positive - Jesus needs me to need HIM.  And, when I'm having one of those terrible days that drives me to the point of needing to remind myself of the tiniest things to be grateful for, I might be missing exactly what to focus on.

I can't change the day if I can't be changed.

And I can't lead my girls by example if I'm not letting myself be changed by the power of Christ on a daily basis - yes, even before my first cup of coffee on a morning full of mayhem.  The volume of my children's yelling and fighting might not change by my viewing them in a more positive light.  I might wait a few extra minutes before I lose my mind, but the fuse is still too short.  Instead, I am reminded of the goodness of the power of Christ in me - how, in moments like these and many others, I don't have to call on my own strength for extra patience or guidance (Hallelujah).

If you're struggling to see the halfway mark on your glass...stop.  Your gratitude can't save you.  You can name every hair on your head and it will never match the understanding, wholly accepting, merciful peace that Jesus grants us in our most ugly moments.  Only Jesus can quench our thirst for harmony.

We should all be "more" grateful, "more" understanding, "more" thoughtful, and "more" positive (aren't you exhausted and feeling guilty already?) But, whenever I am those things, don't be mistaken to think it's by my own strength, it's not!  I can only ever be those things when I've finally given up on my half, and I'm fully focused on the overflowing, brim-toppling, surface-spilling grace from the Heavenly Father.

That's when I can know for sure - it's gonna be a good day.

Keep it Simple: Confessions of a Mult-Tasker

Women are known to be superior multi-taskers.  Mothers are the super-human versions of the ultimate multi-tasker, wearing multiple hats that help them meet the needs of others, their home, and themselves.

This morning, my 2-year-old woke me up at 4am.  I heard the "click-clunk" of her door opening and her little feet pattering in hall coming my way.  I got out of bed, met her at the doorway, and scooped her up in my arms.  She didn't say anything, no crying or whining, and she simply melted into my neck as I breathed in whole hunks of her whispy hair that still smelled of sleepiness.

Who knows what woke her up?  A bad dream, a strange sound, or maybe just restlessness had prompted her to crawl out of her crib at an ungodly hour and come find comfort.  Either way, she just needed her mama.

I rocked her in my arms a bit before returning her to bed.  I swayed back and forth, stroking her hair and rubbing her little back, remembering the hours I would spend doing this when she was but an infant.  I am so grateful for these times when my being provides everything that is an answer to her needs - I know it won't always be so simple.

In my weariness, this sweet moment made me nostalgic, and I thought to myself - Oh how I wish I could only be a mother.  I laid my sweet baby in her bed and snuck quietly out of the room, miraculously not waking her sister laying in the toddler bed only a foot away.  I went to go back to sleep, and spent the next hour pondering the sadness of my nostalgic thought.

Then, it occurred to me:  What if I gave myself the freedom to just be a mother? What would it look like to just let myself do that?  I don't need to be everything all at once all day long.  I can't be.  Why am I trying to be, for goodness sake.

I'm wearing a lot of hats these days.  As a wife and mother, a writer, and a grad student, I often feel like I'm working three full-time jobs with no pay.  My days are filled with the hazy lines of where one part of me ends and the other begins.  I find myself increasingly frustrated with not being able to "find balance" or multi-task beyond my capacity.

When I first became a mother, I had three glorious months of maternity leave.  I stayed home, stared at my baby, and knew it was a sacred time in my life that would be short-lived.  It wasn't "easy" by any means, but it was simpler and such a special time in my life that it needs no romanticism to be remembered as lovely.

When I returned to work, I had a new schedule that included working from home one day a week.  This started off fine - as my newborn slept on and off throughout the day and remained immobile in her swing or bouncy seat while I did the work I needed to do.  However, as my baby grew, so did her needs; and it wasn't long before I yearned for the separation between work and home as I chased my crawling child, made a phone call, attempted to nurse her, and answered emails all at the same time.  It was crazy-business, and it made both jobs SO much harder.

Here I am again.  I have two kids who I desperately want to engage with.  I have the luxury of being able to stay at home with them and be with them.  And I am constantly allowing myself to be bogged down with the pressures of work and school that are all vying for first place in a mental race inside my head.

I'm needing to re-establish some serious boundaries in my life.  I'm realizing that motherhood is the only job that doesn't allow for you to tell others "I'm sorry, can't you see I'm working right now?  That will have to wait."  If I was sitting in a cubicle at a computer, I would never expect another employer to walk up to me and ask me to mop the floor while I was sitting there.  See what I mean?  So, why am I expecting myself to be able to work for multiple "employers" all at the same time?  I'm just being a bad boss if that's what I expect.

I need to let work be work time (even if it's at 5 in the morning like today), let school be school time (even if it means watching less TV), let couple time be couple time (oh yeah, I have a husband I adore), and let mommy time be mommy time.  I want to want to be there for my kids.  I'm tired of letting my other (albeit important) tasks interrupt the focus of my life.

I needed to be reminded that life can be simple.  It can be me, holding my child, just swaying and praying, and that is more than enough to take up all of me in that moment.  I'm praying now for God to help me be able to establish clear lines of how to appreciate it all, but not feel like I need to do it all at once.  I'm called to be a wife and mother, a writer, and a grad student at this time in my life.  This season is not as simple as I might have once thought it would be, and maybe you know how this feels too.

How many jobs are you trying to do at once?

If you're like me, then it's rare that you just hold your kid and only be a mom for a moment.  I'm always thinking ahead to the next chore on my list:  what emails need to be sent, what chapters need to be read, that project I'm presenting, that paper that's due soon, what blog should I be working on, that article I'd like to write, those contacts I need to connect with, that phone call I should return. those library books that are overdue, the milk that's running low, the meat I forgot to thaw, the oil change that my car needs, the birthday card I have to get, that check I need to mail, etc. etc. etc.

Welcome to the mind of a woman, right?

How did my life get so crazy that I'm trying to juggle all these things at once!?  (And I'm guessing your life is no less crazy - we each have our own version of juggling mayhem!)  I remember learning to juggle tennis balls in gym class.  I was never very good at juggling, but one thing I do know is that when you learn to juggle, you don't throw all the balls up in the air all at once - you'll only watch them all fall down in chaos.  But, if you keep your eye on one ball at a time, you can get into a rhythm that allows you to focus on each one of them in their given time.

I know I can't always keep the boundaries from intersecting.  Sometimes I will have to stop swinging my girls and take a phone call.  Sometimes I'll need to put my kids in front of the TV so I can cook dinner or write an urgent email.  And sometimes it will be a great example for my girls to see that their mom loves what she does by using the gifts that God has given me and why it's important to work hard.

But...most times...being a mom is the only thing I need to be for my kids.

They don't need me to be a student, or a writer, or a great cook, or a perfect housekeeper, or a super hero.  I can't juggle it all on my own, and I want my girls to grow up knowing that I didn't!  I have a supportive team and a mighty God who is here to keep me in line and encourage me along the rocky road of life.  And, I have two sweet daughters who gave me the (literal) wake-up call to remember how simple it really can be.

[Time to put the computer away.  My mommy shift is about to start.]