It Ain't Easy

I see them every day.  Younger, older and in-between. They all have that same steel glint that comes out of the corner of their eyes. Their focused gaze that means business.  They don’t mess around. They don’t give an inch.

They are mothers.

These mothers are the unsung heroes of homework helpers, boo-boo fixers, untangling of hair, fixing of toys and various other jobs that if I were to write them all down, the list would resonate with your soul.   

Because you who are mothers, have been there.

You know what it takes to get those kids out the door every morning. It may all start out sweet and nice and then in a flash, the tables can turn and all bets are off. Just to get them out the door….where is the cooperation?

When it’s time to eat and you have prepared that one healthy meal a day…that’s all we ask…just a little bit of health at the table…and no one wants to recognize what it takes to put together…where is the thankfulness? 

The all day task of not only washing the clothes, but folding AND putting them in the correct rooms, on the correct bed, only to find them that evening on the floor or worse….back in the dirty clothes basket….where is the gratefulness? 

Where is the “Thank you, Mother for the multitude of tasks you perform for me very day.  Thank you for selflessly giving of yourself and all your worldly goods to make my day easier. I appreciate the endless deeds you work together for my good.”

More than likely, it will be a while before you hear that. Maybe not exactly that. But it will be good. Trust me.

I’m looking at motherhood…the raising years…from the backwards glance. It was good. It was fun. It was tiring and it was heart-wrenching at times.

And worth every, single, solitary second.

When you feel like all you do is clean up, wipe up, dress up and get up…it’s true. That’s what you do.  Many times this goes without anyone even noticing that you are tired, not feeling well, and generally DONE.

But, look, it doesn't last forever.  The numberless practices, the never-ending lessons, the friends coming over, the “Can we have a party?”….it all comes to a crashing stop one day and you will look back and wonder where the time went.

God is merciful towards mothers.  He gives us moments that will resonate in our hearts forever. He knits our souls with those pint-sized beings that He gives us and we are forever lost to their magnetism. 

Mothering is hard. Mothering is work. Mothering is more than you can imagine and less than you fear it will be. 

I watch these young mothers and their children and my heart tenderly goes out to them.  I want to say:

It’s ok…go ahead and cry when you need it.  

Don’t worry about the house. Be with those children.

Take adventures.

Snuggle and cuddle….a lot.

Read them books and watch their imagination soar.

Do the unexpected. That’s the fun they will not forget.

Pray over them. Quote Scripture over them.

Tell them your story. It’s part of theirs, as well.

If they get a bad grade, it’s fine. Help them see that failure is not their permanent identity.

Create expectations for them and help them reach them.

Listen to their stories. Their dreams are wrapped up in those.

Look in their eyes. You will look into their adult eyes one day soon enough.

Tell them they are loved, no matter what happens.

Don’t let them associate everything you do with work. They just want you. Not your job.

I sent my daughter this shirt…

It is as true a statement as I know.  I have watched her in the throes of motherhood for 14 ½ years now.  She is the mother of four, hopefully soon to be six.  Anyone can guess that life is busy.  She is the Engineer of their home, keeping everyone organized, color coordinated, shoes on and getting to places they need to go with everything they need. It is a thing of beauty to watch the process. 

I have kept The Treasures at times while their parents are away. I know the rigorous schedule that has to be kept. It is constant. There is no down time until all are in bed. Then, there is still work to do.  The van was our home on wheels as we went from one assignment to another.  She runs such a tight ship that the children know exactly what to do and when it has to be done. 

It’s mothering at its best. You see, she “bossed” her dolls around as a child, and her brothers when they came along. She has been in training for Mommin’ her whole life.  It is now all coming to fulfillment. She’s good at what she does. I’m not saying perfect. None of us are and certainly no mother ever feels she is. I’m saying, she is good at mothering.  She makes mothering look good.  Not easy….just good. And that is a reflection of our Heavenly Father. 

These young mothers have a rough road trying to school, keep the home, tend to children and still be a wife all at the same time.  We should be encouraging them and cheering them on every chance we get. After all, wouldn't some of us want to go back to the “little ones” time of our lives, even for a minute?  Maybe just a minute J.

 With Mothers Day coming soon, thank a mom.  Thank your mom. Thank a mother of any age, because being a mother is hard work.  It is time consuming and heart wrenching. It is also the best job in the world.  And it goes by very quickly. 

To my sweet girl---You are a better mother than I could have ever hoped to be.  It is my great joy to watch you do what you were made to do by God, Himself.  Happy Mothers Day! Today and every day. 

Let's Chat....

Long ago and far away, parents and teachers actually made the decisions that mattered.  The students ruled no thing.  If I misbehaved in class and my mother was contacted, there was zero question in my mind who she would believe.  And when I say it was “taken care of at home”….I mean IT WAS TAKEN CARE OF AT HOME.  Let your imagination gaze a while there.

School….that time of year when the work load begins and feelings are worn on shoulders.

Here are a few things that I have learned the hard way:

Parents, your child is sometimes disciplined because they actually did or did not do something that was required of them.  Doing homework, and preparing for class is a real deal.  Tears do not work.  Late nights? They are still responsible.  Tried, but did not understand the material? At least make the effort and talk with the teacher in the morning.  Family time? We all need family time, but there is still responsible work to do. How will they ever learn responsibility if they know Mom will “make the call” and get them out of it?  They need to learn that everyone in the world is not designed to promote or provide them happiness.  Let’s live in the real world.

Parents, do not put all that self-inflicted pressure on yourself to make your life look like a Pinterest account.  I love that beautiful world that can be created, but let’s be honest.  It will not happen.  We can wish it to be so, but let’s just tone it down.  Simplify.  It’s in the simple-lived life that your children will thrive.  That’s when it is easy for them to see Jesus in all things.

We are raising and you are sending to school children that cannot function if they are told “No” or “you need to do that again”.  Young, small people that only think of themselves.  I can’t even.

Sometimes…shocker…a child will be in a class or have a teacher that they just don’t jive with.   That’s life.  Deal with it.  Get through the year and learn some God-inspired lessons.  You cannot go to college with them.  The professors WILL NOT TALK TO YOU.  Don’t get me started.

Also…all the “back to school” stuff that begins in July and continues for a solid two month cycle.  Really?  When my sister and I were school age, this was our back-to-school-gear:  two outfits…two, a notebook, notebook paper, pens and pencils.  Sometimes crayons or markers.  We were not expected to have the most and best of everything.  There were no backpacks!  We carried things like mules to the barn.  We were given enough to get us through and all these years later, we haven’t suffered from being deprived of anything. 

Be an advocate for your child?  Yes!

Be a warrior on your child’s behalf?  Yes!

Be a crutch your children expect?  No.

That is a dishonor to them as future adults and to God, Who gave them to you.

A parent that thinks and plans through their job will prepare their child for every type of road they will travel in life.  The easy, smooth road where life is pleasant and wonderful and the hard, rocky road where the pitfalls are in every direction.   Don’t take the wheel from them during these moments.   Let them fail the quiz.  Let them serve the detention. Let them sit on the bench and learn what God has for them in times that are less than wonderful. 

It will be OK.  It is not certain death.  It does not reflect on your parenting skills.  It’s them learning from their mistakes and figuring out how to get past it. 

Every parent wants their child to succeed.  Who doesn’t?  They want them to grow up and become serving, socially well-adjusted people.  If we do not teach them to finish a school assignment, be on time, bring all your supplies, don’t be rude to the teacher, don’t blame the school, etc….and every other excuse…..

Then----we are not doing our job.  Hard fact, but true.

And here is another:  They will not excel and be successful in every thing they do. 

But---they can be respectful, speak when addressed, be kind, and own up to what their actions show.

Give them responsibility.  Have them be the one to get their clothes ready, pack their lunch, and make sure their backpacks are ready.  If they forget something, oh well…..they forgot.  It’s not life threatening.  Make them in charge of something and then let them deal with the fall-out.

Kids want to be helpful.  Whose two year old has not said to them, “I DO IT MYSELF”. Bless.  Let them.  It can make your life easier if you will let them try. 

My five year old (soon to be six) grandson is a ball of fire and you better be ready to deal with him.  But, because his mother instituted the “You will have jobs” manifest in their household, he can do real life tasks.  He can deal with the trash, empty the dishwasher, gather the clothes, fix his lunch, set the table, along with other WORK that his brothers and sister help with.  The parents have basically helped them with the mindset that they are a family and families work and have fun together to make the household run well. 

Parents, we know you love your children.  We know that you will do whatever it takes to help them succeed.  I’ve been there. I know that road.  You long for the day when they will reach down and put their own underoo’s in the hamper and say, “Thanks mom for helping me learn this very hard task.”  It may not happen for a long time, but listen closely.  There will be a day when you look at your child, perhaps your adult child and think, “God, You make all things good in Your own good time. You have taken all the messes I created, all the parental blunders, all the times of not being what I should and turned it all out for good.”  He’s good like that.  God knows exactly what your child needs and when.  He knows when they will wreck on the bumpy roads. He knows when they will roll down that smooth highway.  He knows. 

And because He knows, we can rest in the fact that the world does not revolve around our children.  We are responsible to show them Jesus, to lead them to Jesus.  To show them what a sold-out, all-in, we want more of God life looks like. 

Eternity. 

That is all that really matters. 

Love God.  Love your children.  Love your family.  Love your people.  You will be thankful you did.

Thirty-six Plus

36+ years.

36 married years. 

All that time ago, when this man became entangled with this mess of a girl, he had no idea what he was signing up for.  We were young, and probably—most likely— dumb, but sometimes that doesn’t matter.  What matters is when two people love each other, get married and make the conscious choice to make it work…it spite of themselves.  

We got married and headed straight into life. The life that was good, the life that was hard.  In fact, we simply grew up together.  God was merciful on us and led us down the path that was leading straight to a life that attempts to honor Him.  

We had three children that we couldn’t imagine being without.  They are the best parts of us and they complete us as our family.  Each and every second we spend with them are a gentle reminder that God does everything in His timing and it is always good.  It’s more than good.  It’s a testament to God the Father who knows what we need and when we need it.  We needed Him and He knew we would need them.  

This is my favorite picture of them!

The interesting thing about this wedded union bliss that God gives us, is that even in the difficult areas of life, when things aren’t  quite what you imagined and the way isn’t looking so easy, God always comes through.  It’s not hard to get sidetracked when the money isn’t there and the people you parent are sick or feet are getting too big for their shoes and their legs won’t stop growing.  This house experienced more than enough of this and in each and every situation, it always worked out.  God supplied and we were thankful.  

In all our years of having children in the home, we have wiped noses…and other area’s…fixed scrapes, put butterfly bandages on gaping wounds, gone to the ER on more than one occasion, given hugs, helped tie shoes, or velcro, (thanks to Grandma), broken up fist fights, driven to bajillions of ballgames and practices of every sport possible, listened to new readers read out loud, (Lord Jesus, help us), wiped tears, attended awards dinners, graduations, all culminating into watching them drive away into their own lives.  

And for us, it was worth every tiny second that flew by in the blink of an eye.  

In the tenderheartedness of God, He saw fit to give us added blessings in the form of grandchildren. Whoever said, “ Grandchildren are your reward for not killing your children” may have been onto something.  Those tiny and growing forms of their parents have us completely smitten.  They are certainly the prize.  In a strange set of circumstances, grandchildren almost, almost allow you a “do-over’. All those things you thought were so important and you realize later that they weren’t…..you get to fix it with the grands.  Eating in bed and having dessert for dinner turns out isn’t such a bad thing after all. 

(On a side note, Moses had just been released from the E.R)

That is thirty six years of home-life.  Thirty-six years of loving and living, disagreeing and making-up.  

So, what happens now? In this world of throw-away marriages, uncontrolled living, and general world craziness, we choose to follow God the best we know how.  We don’t always get it right, but we try, and in the midst of that we have moved into a different level of living.  It’s that easy, peaceful place of loving and accepting exactly who we are: 

He likes ballgames, I like shopping

He likes meat and potatoes, I like salad and vegetables

He likes to have a plan, I’m good flying by the seat of my pants

He thinks he’s organized, I know that I am not

He doesn’t mix his food, I mix everything ALL TOGETHER

He likes to stay up late, I go to bed with the sun, just about

He would rather watch, I would rather read

and….

He sacrifices on my behalf

He lets me go first, in most things

He says I can watch what I want to--
                   (unless World Cup, Super Bowl, All-Star games, NBA or  

        Final Four tournaments, or anything like it are on..…if so, I can forget it)

He eats whatever I set in front of him…except broccoli and that is my uncle Don’s fault 

He is an AP owner, because I am

He gives away more than he keeps

and….

He loves God more than he loves me. 

That’s why all this works.  

I have been over-loved and over-supported for the last 36 years. 

Long ago and far way, God ordained that two imperfect people would find each other and carve out a life that produced three impressive children and some incredible grands.  

So for the next thirty-six years, I’m praying that we spend every bit of time we have here on earth loving God, loving our people and loving others.

And if it happens that we have a little bit more fun, laugh routinely and love each other more, I'm good with that. 

If fact, I'm counting on it.  

 

Happy Anniversary to us.  It's been a wild ride. 

Come to the Table

"Come to the table", she says. "It's time to eat."

I heard those exact words many times growing up. And by table, I mean my grandmother's table.  And when she called, we came a-running.  We knew that our eyes were going to see a delectable assortment of goodness, and we had been waiting for it.  

It was all about the table. That's where good things happen.  That's where children get to listen to adult conversation and pretend not to.  That's where you pass food around the table and ask, "Would you like some?'  That's where you wait until everyone is seated and pray together--as a family. 

 The table. Where you learn to sit with your hands in your lap and use a napkin properly.  It is at the table that somewhere between sitting down and asking to be excused you learn that life isn't always fair. But you still go on.  That there are hurting people in your world, that you need to help. You figure out that maybe, just maybe life does not revolve around what YOU want.  

My grandmothers table was a sight to behold. She made grilled-cheese sandwiches look good.  Which may be why tomato soup and grilled-cheese is my go-to comfort food. Her table smelled good. Her table was put together with love. You could tell by the REAL napkins and silverware. She would iron the table cloths and napkins before she used them. For her, it was an act of love and kindness to put a meal together for the presentation. And we did not take it for granted.  Even in my selfish childhood, I knew that something good and lovely happened at my Nonna's table.  

"Come to the table".  Perhaps the last time I heard her say that was when she had fixed a loaf of banana bread, which is Holy and Sacred to our family. Every single one of us have that recipe, but I don't know that any of us make it like hers. We liked going to her table. We always received more than we deserved there. 

"Come to the table" is music to my ears. With it comes delightful smells and vivid recollections of colors and textures that I don't often see.  And conversations. The kind of conversations that last long after the meal is done. The table can be cleared and food put up and still we would sit around the table. Somehow, it made us closer to each other. Some how the bonds were tightened into chords that are not easily broken.  And then, no one would want to leave the table. Things made sense there. Answers were given and life suggestions were made.  

I loved the table.  Over the years, there were many tables in our lives, but it didn't change the fact that at the table, moments were being made. Sitting in the chair around the table I felt perfectly loved and secure. It was in those moments that God, Himself showed me Who He was. And Is. And always would be.  

Today, God is saying, "Come to the table". 

He is there at the table, waiting. Waiting for us to listen to what He is saying. He has prepared the table, prepared the meal, prepared the way and all we have to do is pull up the chair and sit. Sit down in His Glorious Presence and abundant outpouring of love.  And listen. Listen to His Goodness. Listen as He tells us of His Grace. Hear the words of life that He pours over us.  

If we come to His table and bask in His Glory, I guarantee we will never want to leave. 

Pull up a chair and have a seat. There is goodness to behold.  

There'll Be Days....

Some days start well. Some days you begin the day looking forward to what is on your plate for the next 12 hours...or so.  Some days you can hardly wait to begin.

Then there are the other days. The ones that you would rather pull the covers back up and have a do-over.  The days that you wish you did not have to begin.

That was today.

That was today until God sent his ever-so subtle reminder...which felt like a sledge-hammer.... that life isn't about how we feel or what side of the bed we get up on.  Life is about doing what He has asked us to do.

I entered a room, thinking I was alone, when in the quiet of the morning I began to hear a small voice sweetly singing.  She didn't know I was there, but it wouldn't have mattered.  Her heart was singing. As I listened closely to decipher what words this small angel was offering, I stopped and took it in....every syllable:

"Greater is the One living inside of me, Greater is the one living inside of me, He's greater, He's greater."

"Greater". We sing this song at school. She may not have had the words in correct order, but her theology is quite in order. God lives inside of her and she is trusting that He is greater than everything else.

"In the world, In the world....He's greater , He's greater."

In a thirty second period of time God spoke remarkably loud through a small voice.  The song says:

There'll be days I lose the battle

Grace says that it doesn't matter

'Cause the cross already won the war

He's Greater

He's Greater

I am learning to run freely

Understanding just how He sees me

And it makes me love Him more and more

He's Greater

He's Greater

We may lose the battle and give into our feelings.  We may think we have nothing to offer and not much to give.  Maybe it's the fact that we need to quit depending on what we can do and just launch ourselves into the life of showing others Who God is and how He loves.  

Our faithful God....He's just the WHOLE THING.  He knows me, He sees me, He loves me and that alone makes me "love Him more and more." 

I could have hugged all the goods out of this sweet girl today.  Without knowing it, her singing, her sincere voice and her willingness to let it all hang out spoke volumes to this one.  

"Greater is the One living inside of me, that he who is living in the world".  

The next time you hear this song, sing it like a little blonde-haired beauty.  You might change someone's day.  

All About The Boy

This boy. The one who began our journey into grandparenting. The one who wrecked my heart and took the pieces and wrapped them up around himself.  He's having a birthday. 

He has his mothers eyes and his fathers sense of humor.  He turns all my pictures upside down on my walls when he is here.  He has learned from the uncle to "say things" loudly when we go through the drive-thru.  It may reference prison.

He 's having a birthday. You guys!  He is turning 13!

For heaven's sake, 13.  The age that means high school, college and beyond are not that far down the road.  You know that verse that talks about Mary "treasuring those things in her heart"?  I have been diligently paying attention and putting things to mind about this boy's growing up. But, my goodness.....time has flown. It's too fast. I need it to slow down to a creeping crawl.

Noah McKade Clifton....I hope you have the best birthday of all. You are my favorite 13 yr. old and I am mesmerized by you.