Disappointment {How We Got Here, Part Three}

On Friday we signed a lease for a new place to live. We’ll be moving soon, a process that has been a long and winding road. Here’s the story of how it happened. Read Part One here and Part Two here.

We’ve missed a lot of holidays, birthdays and family events since we moved to Pennsylvania five years ago. But this was the first time we’d ever missed Christmas. Phil’s new job, at a restaurant near a shopping outlet, meant holiday hours for everyone and no time off. So, we scheduled our visit to Illinois in early January, after the holidays.

Around the same time, I learned that the second interview I’d been waiting for wasn’t going to come.

Talk about a blue Christmas.

We spent Christmas Day with friends who made us feel like family, and on New Year’s Eve, we drove all night to be in Illinois for the start of 2013.

Two weeks at home soothed our spirits and at the same time stirred our longing for resolution. It was hard to leave our hometown when we felt we had nothing going for us back in Pennsylvania.

I’m not much a fan of winter anyway, and I wasn’t looking forward to the dark, cold months ahead.

“Nothing was changing” became in my mind “Nothing is ever going to change.”

I was losing hope.

Losing faith.

My words were seasoned with bitter herbs as I talked about our life. I cried a lot. And for a while, I turned my back on God.

I wanted to fix our life. To make it all work out. But I didn’t have the first clue how, or even what was broken, if anything.

Michael Kaufmann | Stock Exchange

Our daughter turned 5 in March and everyone started asking her about school in the fall.

School. That was the deadline in my mind. I needed us to be settled somewhere before then because kindergarten was going to be a big change for all of us, not just her.

God could do that for us, right? I held out faint hope.

Around this time, another job opened up at the place I’d applied at in the fall. We still weren’t making ends meet and even though I didn’t know how we’d swing daycare and two work schedules, I applied again.

And still heard nothing.

Was God even still interested in us?

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When I forget to remember

I don’t always know what to do with Memorial Day.

The kids aren’t in school yet and usually my husband has to work, so it’s not all that different than any other day for our family. We don’t have a personal connection to anyone who has died while serving in the military. And though my husband is a veteran, he downplays his active-duty service and cringes a little when someone wishes him a “Happy Memorial Day.” (A bit of contradiction there, maybe. Would we say Happy 9/11 Day? Happy D-Day? Happy Holocaust Remembrance Day? I don’t think so.)

So I’m torn. Do we celebrate? Do we mourn? Do we have a backyard barbecue with friends? Do we go about our business?

Yesterday, the kids and I went to a Memorial Day parade and service, both of which were in our neighborhood and required almost no effort on our part. It was a nice day. We needed something to do outside of the house. So, we went.

And the kids waved at fire trucks, picked up candy and let American flags flap in the wind. We listened to a high school band and a Highland bagpipe group and retired officers tell us why this day is important.

Later, we did the backyard cookout thing with friends who are missionaries to Spain and returning there soon, but we probably would have done that even if it hadn’t been Memorial Day.

I don’t know if we did right by the day, if we honored the dead or paid homage to the living.

But I know that I’m grateful for a day that reminds me to remember.

Because I am forgetful. In mind and spirit.

As Ann Voskamp writes in One Thousand Gifts, “I am beset by chronic soul amnesia.”

I forget history, who I am and where I’ve been. I forget the works of God in my life and I forget the events that brought our country to where it is today. I forget about people if they aren’t right in front of me. I forget prayer requests and pressing needs.

I forget. I forget.

So I need to be reminded to remember.

The other day I read these words in Deuteronomy, fitting words for a weekend to remember:

Only give heed to yourself and keep your soul diligently, so that you do not forget the things which your eyes have seen and they do not depart from your heart all the days of your life, but make them known to your sons and your grandsons. (4:9)

The things which my eyes have seen …

On Memorial Day, I remember that freedom is costly, no matter what “side” you’re on. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers have given themselves in service to the cause of freedom over the years. And sometimes others pay the price. In innocent lives. In infrastructure destroyed. In chaotic reign afterwards. Freedom isn’t free for anyone.

And not everyone is free. We need people who have seen bondage and slavery and tyranny firsthand to remind us that freedom is not universal yet. That our way of life is not the way for everyone. That even those living in a “free country” can be enslaved to addictions, attitudes, behaviors, other people. That slavery did not end when the Civil War ended.

And ultimately freedom comes, not from the flag of a country, however “great” or “blessed” it might be, but through Jesus, who said he came to “proclaim release to the captives … to set free those who are oppressed.” (Luke 4:18)

I need to be reminded to remember.

I need a spiritual memorial day. A personal memorial day. To remember the workings of God in my life and the life of those who have invested in my life. To remember who I am and where I’ve been and how God has seen me through impossible challenges.

It is good to remember.

It is good to tell the story.

Not just on Memorial Day.

But every day.

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5 on Friday: Words for marriage

On Sunday, Phil and I celebrate six years of marriage. Last year’s anniversary was a big deal for us, and you can read my reflections on that here. We don’t have anything extra special planned this weekend and though I believe every year of marriage is important, some years are more low-key than others.

This is one of those years.

I could probably write a book about what I’ve learned through marriage in six years, but in keeping with the low-key spirit of things, I’m focusing instead on five words I’ve found to be important to our marriage.

1. Grace. Lots of people will tell you that all you need for a successful marriage is love. I think love is important but it’s not always enough. We all need grace, married or not, and grace has been a key player in our marriage.

2. Yes. There’s a place for the word “no” in every relationship and “no” can be healthy. But “no” can also be a door slamming in your face. No, I won’t try that. No, we won’t do that. No, I’m not open to doing it differently. “Yes” is an open mind, a bridge, full of possibility.

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3. Today.  We come into marriage with the baggage of yesterday and dreams for tomorrow. And sometimes today gets lost in between. We have to deal with the past but not live there. We have to hope for the future but we’re not there yet. Today is important and special. I don’t want to miss out on what today has to offer because I’m looking back or ahead all the time.

4. Us. That whole two-becoming-one thing is something I don’t fully understand, but what I do understand is that Phil and I are a team. And we’re on the same team. And while we still have individual personalities and goals and interests, we are part of something that’s bigger than either one of us separately. And the decisions we make are for the good of our family, the four of us living in the walls of this house, and for the good of our marriage. Maybe one time when an us-versus-them mentality is okay.

5. Help. We learned the hard way that we can’t do this on our own. We need God. And married friends who have been married longer than we have. We need teachers, pastors and counselors. (And babysitters; how could I forget babysitters?) Our marriage is personal, yes, but it’s also meant to be communal, as in part of a community. We need help to navigate the seas of marriage because otherwise, we are sunk.

What words have been helpful to your marriage journey?

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Mother Ship by Melody Murray

This is the final in a series of posts for Mother’s Day. Be sure to enter the drawing at the bottom of the page!

Welcome to Pearl Girls™ Mother of Pearl Mother’s Day blog series—a nine-day celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today’s best writers (Tricia Goyer, Lisa Takeuchi Cullen, Beth Vogt, Lesli Westfall, and more). I hope you’ll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother’s Day.

AND . . . do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful handcrafted pearl necklace and a JOYN India bag. Enter at the bottom of this post. The contest runs 5/4-5/13, and the winner will be announced on 5/14. Contest is only open to U.S. residents.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info, subscribe to our blog, and see what we’re all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Mother of Pearl: Luminous Lessons and Iridescent Faith to help support Pearl Girls™.

And to all you MOMS out there, Happy Mother’s Day!

~

Mother Ship (N.) – a ship that serves or carries one or more smaller ships.

Raising two boys in India is quite nice, really. We have monkeys, scooters, plenty of dirt, and mountains. The challenges are comical. I found very quickly on that if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. It’s been an excellent motto for our three years thus far, one I learned shortly after our arrival here in June of 2010.

We’d been in India for just three days when I had my first major meltdown. Our two boys, ages three and four, were sitting in big plastic buckets in our smelly bathroom, covered with mosquito bites, jetlagged as can be. I was frantically pouring cold water over them, trying to scrub off the India grime that had caked on their scrawny little bodies. I was having to hold them like puppy dogs so they wouldn’t scurry out from underneath the cold water. It was a far cry from the sweet, warm, bubbly, happy bath time we’d experienced together for the past four years in the States! Talk about culture shock. They were in shock. I was in shock. I’m sure the neighbors were in shock, too. I’m not sure my boys have ever seen me scream, cry, and stomp that much. Thank God it is just a memory now.

Somehow, by God’s grace, we’ve figured out life here. It looks much different than I had ever thought it would look, especially as a mother. We don’t go to the library, make elaborate crafts, play T-ball, shop at Target, sing in church choir, or take family bike rides. I have had to redefine my ideal upbringing for my children and have had to let go of many expectations. But I’ve managed to grasp hold of a new set of dreams.

My children are global kids. They have an incredible adventure every day. They see the “majority world” firsthand. I think they are some of the most privileged kids I know. I’ve stopped feeling sorry for myself that my kids don’t get to go to ballgames or have a huge tree house or wear cute clothes. Why focus on what I think they’ve lost, only to lose sight of what they’re gaining?

My attitude shift didn’t come easily. I can be quite stubborn. I clung to what I knew and what I thought was “normal” and “right,” as all of us moms do. I’d cry after phone conversations with friends back home who had their children signed up for karate, soccer, and swim lessons, with loads of choices for good schools, churches, and neighborhoods. I had nothing of the sort available for my kids, and I felt bitter and resentful.

But then I slowly began to change. Slowly, after months of getting over culture shock and cold baths, we began to love this place and the people we were with. We began to know them, understand them, become like them. Our community here became our family. Just this week, I’ve been sick with an awful kidney infection, and my living room has been full of my Tibetan, Nepali, and Indian friends, bringing me food, rubbing my feet, playing with my children, washing my dishes. I’ve never experienced community in this way before. My boys are loved so well by so many. And they are learning how to love back, even when it’s not easy.

My attitude shift didn’t come quickly, but when it happened, it took a 180°. I realized how wrong I’d been. These people I live with—their kids don’t have organized sports, church choirs, or fancy vacations either. Their kids aren’t signed up for after-school activities and aren’t becoming multi-skilled elementary school prodigies. Yet, in spite of this, they are content. Like none I’ve ever seen. They love each other. Like none I’ve ever seen. They have very little, yet they have so very much.

In the western world of comparisons and endless striving, I believe we sometimes lose touch of the things we actually care most about. I know most of us moms actually don’t care whether our children are the best at T-ball or whether their crafts look better than the next kid’s. But I think we all care deeply that our kids are loved, and that they know how to love. We all have a common dream that our kids will grow up to be world-changers, to strive for what is right, to love the unloved, to see the world in a different way. These are the deepest dreams of moms. So let’s not forget that the most important things we can give our kids are not the things we can buy them or sign them up for. One of the greatest gifts we can give to our children is to give them sails, let them explore new things, meet new people, and learn to make lasting change in this world.

So join me this Mother’s Day. Let’s all be “mother ships,” leading our kids to new adventures, new beginnings, new relationships. Let’s serve and carry our little ones to places they can only dream of, whether it be making dinner for a neighbor, smiling at the homeless man in front of the grocery store, volunteering at a soup kitchen, or moving to India. Let’s take them with us and teach them how to sail.

“A ship in port is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.” —Grace Murray Hopper

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In June 2010, an opportunity arose to work with a small needy community in the Himalayas, so David and Melody Murray and their two young boys packed their bags and moved to Rajpur, North India. Mel has grown JOYN, fulfilling her passion to connect artisans with western markets. They now have a diverse and growing team of Americans, Australians, Indians, Tibetans and Nepalis working together to create a community that strives to take care of each other and bring opportunity to as many as they can. Visit her website for more information.
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The Pursuit of Imperfection by Beth Vogt: Mother’s Day blog series

This week, I’ll be hosting several posts from this series. I hope you’ll tune in for some motherly encouragement! Read more here and here.

Welcome to Pearl Girls™ Mother of Pearl Mother’s Day blog series—a nine-day celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today’s best writers (Tricia Goyer, Lisa Takeuchi Cullen, Beth Vogt, Lesli Westfall, and more). I hope you’ll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother’s Day.

AND . . . do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful handcrafted pearl necklace and a JOYN India bag. Enter at the bottom of this post. The contest runs 5/4-5/13, and the winner will be announced on 5/14. Contest is only open to U.S. residents.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info, subscribe to our blog, and see what we’re all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Mother of Pearl: Luminous Lessons and Iridescent Faith to help support Pearl Girls™.

 

And to all you MOMS out there, Happy Mother’s Day!

~

The Pursuit of Imperfection by Beth Vogt

In my early mommy-ing years, I was all about perfection. I wasn’t going to be just a good mom—oh, no. I grabbed the virtual performance bar and shoved it way out of my reach.

It didn’t take long for that bar to come crashing down on my head. Perfection was toppled by the harsh reality that, at times, I was an angry mom. I hit my knees and begged God for forgiveness, for patience, for the ability to love my children one day at a time . . . sometimes one hour at a time.

I embraced 1 Peter 4:8: Love covers a multitude of mistakes, even altering it a bit so that it met my need. My version of 1 Peter 4:8 became: Love covers a multitude of mommy-mistakes. There was no way I could pretend that I was perfect, but I could do everything possible so that my children knew that I loved them, despite my imperfections.

Fast forward through toddlers and teenagers to being the mother of a twenty-something son, two late-teen daughters, and one (surprise!) elementary-school-age daughter.

During lunch one day with Katie Beth and Amy, my two oldest daughters, Katie Beth looked at me and asked, “Do you want to know what the best thing was about you as a mom?”

Did I? How could I say no to an unexpected “her children will rise up and call her blessed” moment? I assured Katie Beth I absolutely wanted to know the best thing about me as a mom. She looked at me and said, “The best thing about you as a mom was that you weren’t perfect.”

Oh. I admit I expected something . . . more. I joked with my daughter, telling her I wished she’d told me this sooner, as I wasted too much time trying to be perfect. We all laughed and the conversation moved on.

A few weeks later as a prepared a talk on motherhood and perfection for a moms group, I asked Katie Beth, “Can you tell me again why not being perfect was the best thing about me as a mom?”

She emailed me a letter that read: So many kids grow up thinking their parents are up on this pedestal. They think their parents can do no wrong, but then when they fail at something or make a mistake . . . it can tend to devastate those kids. Also, it taught me that being a Christian does not equal perfection. So many people think because they are a Christian they have to be perfect, and I learned from you that, while you are a very loving mother, you are not perfect. It helps me know you don’t expect me to be perfect. 
Our children don’t want perfect moms—but they do want to know we love them. And maybe by admitting we’re not perfect, our kids will avoid the perfectionist trap too.

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Beth K. Vogt believes God’s best is often behind the doors marked “Never.” After being a nonfiction writer and editor who said she’d never write fiction, Beth has proudly authored two novels, Wish You Were Here and the newly released Catch a Falling Star. Connect with Beth at bethvogt.com.

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History has a Way of Repeating Itself by Tricia Goyer: Mother’s Day blog series

This week, I’ll be hosting several posts from this series. I hope you’ll tune in for some motherly encouragement! You can read the first post here.

Welcome to Pearl Girls™ Mother of Pearl Mother’s Day blog series—a nine-day celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today’s best writers (Tricia Goyer, Lisa Takeuchi Cullen, Beth Vogt, Lesli Westfall, and more). I hope you’ll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother’s Day.

AND . . . do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful handcrafted pearl necklace and a JOYN India bag. Enter at the bottom of this post. The contest runs 5/4-5/13, and the winner will be announced on 5/14. Contest is only open to U.S. residents.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info, subscribe to our blog, and see what we’re all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Mother of Pearl: Luminous Lessons and Iridescent Faith to help support Pearl Girls™.

 

And to all you MOMS out there, Happy Mother’s Day!

~

History has a Way of Repeating Itself by Tricia Goyer

Forty years ago a single, young woman was about to give birth. She didn’t know how she could afford a child without her parents’ help. She hadn’t talked to her former boyfriend in months. She had no idea how to reach him, how to tell him she was having his child.

This young woman attended church some, yet her dialogue with God was stilted. How could God let this happen to her? What would her life be like now? A baby girl was born, and upon holding her child this young lady knew things would be okay. Perhaps this baby was a gift, not a burden as she supposed.

This woman raised her daughter the best she could, and while she wanted to give her child more than she had . . . history has a way of repeating itself. When the daughter became a young woman, she found herself in the same situation—living at home, pregnant and scared.

The daughter knew she could raise this child. After all, her mom had done it. But what would her life be like? How could God let this happen to her?

If you haven’t guessed already. I was the daughter born to a single mom and as a teenager became a single mom myself. At age 17, God gave me a son. My boyfriend was out of the picture, and I faced raising a child alone with little education, no money and, maybe according to the world, little hope for my future.

Now if you take this story at face value, I am nothing more than a statistic. According to government research, most daughters of young mothers will be teen mothers themselves. They face lives of hardship, living on welfare for the most part — becoming a burden rather than an asset to society.

Yet, I am not a statistic. Why? Because God doesn’t do them.

As a 17-year-old pregnant teenager I prayed a simple prayer, “God, I have messed up my life big time. If you can do anything with it, please do.” I dedicated my life and my heart to him and things changed. I had hope in my heart and I started walking God’s way. God brought an amazing, Christian man into my life. John was a wonderful husband and a father to my son. When had a daughter and another one on the way, God did something else unexpected. He gave me the desire to write books.

This Mother’s Day, my heart is filled with thanksgiving. I’m thankful for my mother who chose life for me. I’m thankful that when I questioned my future, God gave me hope.

History has a way of repeating itself in families, but even more important that our history of mess-ups is God’s history of setting things right. God has a history of seeing something no one else does . . . like seeing a king in a shepherd boy named David, seeing an apostle in a young zealot named Paul, and seeing a mighty warrior in a frightened nobody named Gideon. God’s X-ray eyes see right through any outward characteristics or national statistics. His X-ray eyes scan down to the heart.

Where have you felt you’ve fallen short of God’s perfect plan? Trust that God’s dream is to turn a mess-up into a miracle. He’s a BIG God with BIG dreams. A God who has made an agreement with us that is eternal, final, and sealed. A God who is strong in our weakness. A God who sees the future, sees the past and has a perfect plan for me . . . and for you. It’s something we can all be thankful for.

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Tricia Goyer is a busy mom of six, grandmother of two, and wife to John. Somewhere around the hustle and bustle of family life, she manages to find the time to write fictional tales delighting and entertaining readers and non-fiction titles offering encouragement and hope. Tricia is also on the blogging team at MomLifeToday.com, TheBetterMom.com and other homeschooling and Christian sites. In addition to her roles as mom, wife and author, Tricia volunteers around her community and mentors teen moms. Tricia, along with a group of friends, recently launched www.NotQuiteAmishLiving.com, sharing ideas about simplifying life. She also hosts the weekly radio podcast, Living Inspired. Learn more about Tricia at www.triciagoyer.com.

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35 things I’ve learned by 35

I turned 35 on Saturday. This birthday has been bugging me all year. I don’t remember having a problem with my 30th birthday, but for some reason, adding that “5″ after the “3″ is messing with my head. I feel like I’m supposed to be old now. Or wise. Or accomplished. I don’t feel any of those things. But I’ve learned some important things in life. Here’s a list of 35 of them, in no particular order. (I was inspired by this post earlier this year.)

1. Bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. And sometimes there’s no good explanation.
2. Even if you’re almost 30 and married to your best friend, motherhood will still scare the crap out of you. (And by “you” I mean “me.”)
3. I don’t have to like or believe all the same things as my friends to still be friends.
4. It’s better to hear the truth than believe a lie.
5. You can do everything right and follow all the rules and still be wrong.
6. Housework is an inescapable necessity, and it improves my mood.
7. I didn’t know how selfish I was until I got married and had children.
8. God will make you eat your words when you tell Him something is impossible.
9. Conflict is unavoidable. And sometimes it’s healthy. And helpful.
10. Control is an illusion. Just when I think I have something “under control,” my son rolls around in the aisle at church or my daughter throws a doll across the room when I ask her to put her pajamas on.
    

    His Easter finest

11. Apathy is just as (and maybe more) dangerous as hate.
12. I can’t save the world, but I can make better choices that have an impact on the world and the people who live in it.
13. Life moves fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. (Okay, I stole that one from Ferris Bueller. Still …)
14. I’ll do just about anything for a full night of sleep. (Especially after having kids.)
15. Just because I think I have something to say doesn’t mean I should say it.
16. One toilet for four people is not enough, especially if two of those people are recently potty-trained. Inevitably, they have to go potty at the EXACT SAME TIME and RIGHT NOW. Same holds true if anyone else dares to enter the bathroom to do “business.”
17. Life is always a good choice. Not just when it comes to the unborn.
18. The number of laundry baskets in your house should match the number of people in your house.
19. It’s better to ask a question, even if I think it makes me look stupid, than to assume I know something.
20. An introvert (I am one) needs extroverts for friends. I am blessed to have several who push me out of my introverted tendencies (in a good way).
21. Failing at something doesn’t make me a failure.
22. I still blush when I talk to the opposite sex, even if they’re teenage boys. And I fear I might become one of those old ladies who flirts with guys of all ages just to be embarrassing.
23. When you set out to write a list of 35 things you’ve learned in your lifetime, the list starts to read like a confessional.
24. Drinking coffee with my dad and talking to my mom while we wash dishes or take a walk are two of my favorite activities. (And I don’t do either nearly enough because of an 800-mile separation.)
25. I’m more task-oriented than people-oriented and learning to love people when they get “in the way” of my tasks is hard.
26. I’m likely to say something awkward when making small-talk because I think better with written words than spoken ones.
27. I’d rather take a risk and fail than not try at all.
28. What I think we needed for marriage (the stuff we registered for) is not what we really needed. My registry list would look completely different now after six years of marriage.
29. I am a writer. (Profound, right?) And no amount (big or small) of money, publication credits or blog followers will change that. It’s part of who I am. And it’s what I was made to do.
30. Whining and giving constructive criticism are not the same. I have a low tolerance for the former, which accomplished almost nothing, and a growing tolerance for the latter, which can make a difference for the better. And I appreciate even more those teachers from grade school who had a “no whining” policy in their classrooms. (P.S. If you’re an adult, I tolerate your whining even less than I do my children’s.)
31. Cooking a turkey is not as scary as I once thought it would be. I am now comfortable with all aspects of preparing and cooking a turkey for Thanksgiving or other meals. Ditto for a whole chicken. I have not, however, attempted to cook a live lobster or prepare anything that still has a head (fish, crawfish, etc.). Something to shoot for in the next 35 years.
32. It’s okay to cry. But I’ll still probably apologize for doing it, even it’s an appropriate response.
33. I take life and myself too seriously, but I love laugh-till-you-cry moments.
34. I love my husband more now than I did when we first started dating, and I can’t imagine how my love will deepen and change in the coming years.
35. I am an unfinished work.

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How I Learned to Give Up Control by Sue Edwards: Mother’s Day blog series

This week, I’ll be hosting several posts from this series. I hope you’ll tune in for some motherly encouragement!

Welcome to Pearl Girls™ Mother of Pearl Mother’s Day blog series—a nine-day celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today’s best writers (Tricia Goyer, Lisa Takeuchi Cullen, Beth Vogt, Lesli Westfall, and more). I hope you’ll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother’s Day.

AND . . . do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful handcrafted pearl necklace and a JOYN India bag. Enter at the bottom of this post. The contest runs 5/4-5/13, and the winner will be announced on 5/14. Contest is only open to U.S. residents.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info, subscribe to our blog, and see what we’re all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Mother of Pearl: Luminous Lessons and Iridescent Faith to help support Pearl Girls™.

And to all you MOMS out there, Happy Mother’s Day!

~

How I Learned to Give Up Control by Sue Edwards

I’m one of those mothers who would like to control everything in my children’s lives. You may be too, all out of the best intentions. I tried frantically to do that for many years until God grabbed my attention and wrestled my control issues from my clenched fists. It happened this way.

My youngest daughter attended a large university where campus housing was at a premium. Her second year she was accepted into one of the nicest dorms on campus, but the rule was that you could either choose the room or the roommate of your choice but not both. Well, I had heard horror stories of what happened when you roomed with some girls–like men in the room, and I turned into mother bear. I was not going to allow my child to take pot luck in roommates, nor were we willing to give up that choice room.

I had heard that if your child had a learning disability they would ditch the rule. So I decided to make my case with the administrator who could fix this unfair situation. All week, I was on the phone long distance climbing my way up the ladder to the gentleman who could give my daughter the room and roommate she deserved.

And finally, I was on the phone with him. We talked for a few minutes, and then he asked me, “Does your daughter have a learning disability?” I answered rather indignantly, “Well, I prefer not to label people.” That did it. He bought it. I had done the impossible. I called my daughter, she turned cart wheels on the other end of the phone, and we rejoiced together.

Only the roommate she had chosen, the dear Christian girl from her church, did not turn out to be the roommate she expected. In fact, she did have men in the room, a lot. And she went home at Christmas under suspicious circumstances. All fall I had to endure calls from my daughter who was trying to figure out how to navigate this awkward situation. And it was my fault. Some of us are stubborn and God needs a two by four to get our attention, and break us of our control issues. This was that time for me, and for my daughter. Now, when we are tempted to take control instead of trusting God, we look at each other, remember, smile, and let go.

God knows what he is doing in your life, my life, and the lives of our children. And he loves our children more than we do, as impossible as that may sound. So trust him, follow him. Two by fours are rather painful. You won’t regret trusting your Sovereign Father who has your, and your children’s, best interest at heart.

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Dr. Sue Edwards has over thirty-five years experience as a Bible teacher, overseer of ministries to women, and author. Now, as a full-time professor at Dallas Theological Seminary, she equip men and women for future ministry all over the world. And women everywhere enjoy learning the Scriptures in face to face groups as well as an online community using her Bible studies, the Discover Together Series. To join the online Bible study community or to converse with Sue, go to Facebook.com/discovertogetherseries. She is currently working on a book with Barbara Neumann on mentoring millennials. Married for forty years, she and David are the parents of two married daughters and the grandparents of five.

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Saturday smiles: birthday reflections edition

So, it’s my birthday.

I ran Week 1, Day 3 of Couch to 5K this morning. (My dad: “You’re 35 and can still run?” Har-dee-har-har)

I perused the local treasures at a garage sale down the street and sampled the coffee at my favorite neighborhood roaster.

The kids played outside while I sat on the porch and finished the novel I’m currently reading.

A friend stopped by with a gift and the smell of the lilacs she clipped from the bush at her house is filling my house with my favorite springy scent.

We ate lunch on the porch and the boy fell asleep watching “Toy Story.”

I finished the novel.

I washed some dishes because if I took my birthday as a vacation, we’d be eating off the table and with our hands for the next two days.

We’re back outside.

The sun is shining.

Our bills are paid.

My husband doesn’t know it yet, but I think we’re going out to eat tonight.

Not all is right with the world but today I believe it will be.

Today, I am 35.

And in some ways, I feel life is just beginning.

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5 on Friday: Meaningful gifts I’ve received

My birthday is tomorrow. Which got me thinking about gifts. Not because I’m totally gift-focused because I’m not. Receiving gifts actually stresses me out a little bit because I’m not good at giving an instant reaction. My thanks is better expressed in how I use the gift than in the exact moment I receive it.

Photo courtesy of Stock Exchange | http://www.sxc.hu

Here are some memorable gifts I didn’t ask for that touched my heart. (Please don’t be offended if you’ve given me a gift and it’s not mentioned here. These are the first five that came to mind and they aren’t all birthday gifts. The danger of making a short list is leaving someone out.)

1. A pink Columbia brand fleece jacket. The first Christmas Phil and I celebrated as a couple, this was his gift. I remember how excited he was to give it to me, and it is still my go-to outerwear in spring, fall and sometimes winter. My husband is great at giving gifts. I could spend an entire post on the best gifts he’s given me, but I’d probably lose readers.

2. The Book of Common Prayer. A couple from church gifted this to us as we’ve expressed an interest and love for liturgy, the church calendar and the use of the lectionary. I have used this book almost daily for months, and it continues to touch my heart because it is a gift I would have never thought to ask for from people who haven’t known us long but were thoughtful enough to present us with a gift we will cherish.

3. An ice scraper and a spray-on window defroster for my car. In the early days of my relationship with Phil, we spent a lot of time at each other’s houses, often driving home in winter in the dark, when northern Illinois temperatures drop below freezing and leave frost on the windshield. One night, Phil’s brother and the woman who would become his wife, gave me this gift to ease the process of driving home in winter. It was especially meaningful because at the time, our relationship was not strong nor was I terribly kind or loving toward them. Over the years, that has changed and I’ve learned that they, too, are exceptional gift givers.

4. An all-expenses-paid trip to a writers conference in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. I will forever remember the generosity of a couple from my hometown who saw an advertisement for this conference and felt led to pay  my way. I had never considered going to a writers conference. I was working as a journalist at the time with no concrete writing dreams beyond what I was doing. It was a stretching experience for me as I drove the whole way by myself, took in some sight-seeing on the way back and let God open my world to the opportunities in Christian publishing. It was a life-changer for me, and I consider it an investment that has yet to accomplish its full return.

5. A royal wedding tea cup. When Prince William and Kate Middleton got married, my English friend and pen pal sent me a tea cup with their pictures on it. I was having sort of a blah day when it arrived and I was so tickled because of the uniqueness of the gift.

This is a small slice of the meaningful gifts I’ve received over the years, and recalling them makes me feel blessed to have special people in my life. It also challenges me to take more notice of my loved ones and find gifts that would be meaningful to them.

How about you? What meaningful gifts have you received?

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