Faith Like a Child

Faith.
For being such a simple word it sure is hard. Just when I feel confident in my faith something happens and it doesn't take but two hot seconds for me to start doubting again. I doubt myself, sometimes my beliefs,  I doubt God and his presence or concern for my life. It takes work to reel myself back in to how I know I need to think. Sometimes I just picture God saying, "I got this, Maggie. Just like I had the thing before, and like I'll get the next thing to come."

Why, however, is it so easy for kids to have faith? My children have a raw unhindered faith in my husband and I as their parents. The other day I was going down the stairs holding my 9 month old. As I neared the end, I went bounding fast down the last few to jostle her around just so I could hear her infectious giggle. As I started going faster, she let go of me and put her arms in the air with her head back laughing continuously. She trusts me that I wont let go of her. In fact, I know it didn't event enter her mind. She let go and had an amazingly free experience. Why can't I do this? As God carries me through life, why do I hold on so tightly? And, when the bumps in road come, I cling harder in fear of getting hurt or being let down or worse....loosing control. Imagine having a faith where I just let go. Experience to the fullest of what I'm supposed to out of every situation. It might even put a smile on my face.

Not but an hour later, my husband came home from work and started playing with the kids. I was cooking dinner and peaked into the playroom to see him holding my son (2 years old) by one ankle upside down and swinging him around. This was not an unusual sight in this house, but I couldn't help but notice the joy on my sons face as he flew through the air. He completely trusted his daddy to not drop him or put him in harms way in any way. So much so, he was thrilled to be dangling by his foot upside down and asked him to do it again as soon as he was put down. Sometimes I think we miss out on some of the fun that God intended for us because of our lack of faith.

That night we had a bad thunderstorm, and my 4 year old ended up sleeping on our bedroom floor. In the morning I said to her, "You know what thunder is, and you know that it can't hurt you, so why were so scared last night?" She replied, "I don't know it just made me feel better to be close to you." I loved her response. You see in reality I am as helpless as she is when compared to Mother Nature, but she didn't expect me to stop the storm or make it go away. She just wanted to be close. Wouldn't it be wonderful if when the storms of life blow in and thunder hits so close the house shakes, I just set up camp at the foot of Jesus? Not because I expect him to make the storm stop (which he can!) but because just being close brings comfort. 

What a challenge.
To have the unhindered all trusting faith of a child.
So the next time God goes bounding down the stairs....Let go and laugh loudly.
The next time He hangs me upside down by my ankles.....enjoy every minute.
The next time the skies get dark and the winds blow hard....run to His presence.
Challenge accepted!

Today, I have a four year old!

Four years ago today my water broke and my husband and I began a 17 hour journey to parenthood. I've heard my own "birth story" 26 (almost 27) times, told to me every year by my mom. I have vivid memories of rolling my eyes as she told me how she curled her hair before going to the hospital because she didn't know any better and then described in detail the horror of 24 painful hours of all natural back labor before I came into the world. I never understood why she felt the need to relive that every year....then it happened to me! Needless to say, I totally get it now!

There's something about reliving the nervous excitement mixed with sheer panic that only giving birth can provide. So, here's an extremely shortened version:

Four days before my due date I stopped working. For three of those days I did nothing but watch movies and bounce on an exercise ball. My husband and I were watching a movie one day before my due date when my water broke. I really thought that meant we'd be holding a baby soon. After all, in the movies when someone's water brakes they have about 5 painful contractions and then a three month old, dry, cute, cooing baby pops out. What no movie shows is a women whose water broke 12 hrs ago and is still only 4cm dilated......I opted for the epidural around hour 15 (5 hrs on Pitocin). My nurse kept reminding me that this was my first baby and I could push for 3 hours!! (I kept the "ARE YOU NUTS?" to myself!) Around 4:00pm it finally was time to start pushing. After 1 "practice" push I heard, "STOP PUSHING!" I watched two nurses and my doctor frantically open packages and run around for a minute and then I was told to push again. Quickly followed by, "STOP PUSHING!" again. Her head was out and her shoulders were stuck. My doctor shared a not so subtle nod to my nurse who pushed the Code button on the wall, and all of a sudden I DID feel like I was in a movie. People started running into the room, my husband was pushed out of the way, and everyone got serious. My nurse was 8 months pregnant with twins so the next person to come in the room jumped on the bed with me. My doctor counted to 3 and the nurse jumped on my stomach. Not pushed, not applied pressure, but JUMPED!! Her knees left the bed...I know....I was there. At that moment I thanked God for the decision to get the epidural as I surely would have not survived what just happened. Out shot a 7lb 10oz baby girl! There was more running around for a few minutes and then just as fast as they all came, they all went away. 

My perfectly fine daughter spent the first hour of her life in her daddy's arms (I was being attended to, and yes it did take that long!) it was love at first sight for those two, and he's still her favorite person! Becoming a parent was surreal. This little person is a mix of my husband I (this means she needs some extra prayer!), and a gift from God. What a responsibility, and what a blessing! 

My husband gave her the nickname "Chili Pepper". This fits her perfectly. She adds so much flavor to our life. Having her makes everything just a little bit more special. She's hot and spicy and keeps you wanted more of her, however if you get the raw thing....it can be....um.....a little to much, and leave you needed a large glass of water to cool down! She has turned into quite an amazing little girl in these few short years of her life. She brightens our home and brings joy to our everyday! She is a natural born leader, and loves having her little brother and sister along on her latest journeyg's. She has an amazing imagination and loves to snuggle. She has been a huge challenge and an even greater joy. I can't believe God has trusted her in our care, and I can't wait to see what He does with the rest of her life. I feel blessed to have a front row seat for it. 

Balancing the "Mommy guilt"

Apparently I have severely underestimated my ability to carve out 30 minutes a week to write on this blog. I'm going to go ahead and blame the baby for teething with a double ear infection, the toddler for transitioning into a "big boy" bead, and the 4 year old birthday party in less than 2 weeks. This would explain why I've been slipping into a coma-like state come 8:30pm every night.

Tonight I was determined to grab a snack and settle down to start typing. What I realized when I sat down was that it was driven by a certain kind of "Mommy guilt". Not the normal: "I don't provide organic snacks and perfectly educationally stimulating activities for my children every day" guilt, but the reverse kind. The "you need to take care of yourself" kind. Lately I've been getting hit from both sides. Do more for my family and home? or do more for me?

Sure I could stay up late every night making homemade fresh organic goodies for the next day, but my marriage would start to suffer and surely my sanity wouldn't be far behind. It's so easy to log into Pinterest and start pinning away all the good intentions in my head. Every closet organized with a purpose and perfect functionality, my children's rooms magazine perfect, the garden, the craft corner, the laundry room, even a better "junk" drawer. It always starts out innocent enough. When I have time for one of these projects I'll know where to find it now. But, all to fast it turns into discontentment, or discouragement, or "mommy guilt". Why doesn't my house look like my pin boards? What's wrong with me that I can't find time to glue gun, modge podge, cut, crinkle, bake, cook, and create my way to a better home? (I have three answers, and they're all sleeping upstairs.)

In my not so strong moments, yes, I think these things. I feel the guilt. Am I letting my family down by not providing such an environment? Then there's the other kind of guilt. "Why don't you have a hobby?" I ask myself this a lot. Well, most hobbies take time. This is something I really don't have much of and to be quite honest, when I do get it I would choose sleep over scrapbooking any day. This can't be healthy right? Many articles and other blog posts have been focusing on the importance of taking time for yourself. After all, if you don't take care of yourself you can't take care of others. Right? Or is this some notion to hide behind? Is there something wrong with sacrifice?

I'm having a crazy time balancing it all. Pour myself into my family and home. Pour myself into myself. I believe I just struck the key word. BALANCE! This is where I am. I want the best for my family and will provide it to the best of my ability. To reach that ability it also means I have to do some things for myself. (Does this mean I need a pedicure every few weeks? I think not....Another post for another time.) At the end of the day while I'm laying in that coma-like state....I have to remind myself that I'm the very mom my kids need. And my kids are very kids that I need. My husband is my partner and I need him. I'll do what I can to make my home a homey welcoming place to open to friends and for my children to enjoy and remember, but I wont sacrifice reading books and building forts to get it. I'm done feeling guilty for giving my kids goldfish and not having pictures up on my bedroom walls. After all, I have three little kids and sometimes that's just hard....and I'm okay with that.

Now I have couch calling my name.

Time Goes By....

TIME.
It's a word I've been thinking a lot about recently. The concept seems simple enough. No matter how much it seems to be standing still the next minute is still a mere 60 seconds away. Even though time has not changed, our perception of it sure does. I am rarely satisfied with my time. I'm either looking forward to the next thing hoping beyond hope that time would go faster, "My vacation is in two weeks, but I wish I were on the beach now!" or I wish it would slow down, "If I only had time for sleep, I would feel more rested!" But regardless of how hard I wish, it stays the same. I always get a chuckle when my husband calls me from work in the afternoon and says, "Wow, I can't believe it's already 2:30! This day sure has flown by." My first thought is "2:30?!?! That's it? Feels like it should be bedtime already!" Now we both lived in the same exact time but have very different perspectives of it. .

This is only in the context of one day. What about the years. My daughter is almost 4. In some regards I can't believe she's going to be 4. It seems like yesterday she was crawling around with drool hanging out of mouth, but at the same time it's hard for me to imagine life before her and it was only 4 years ago. On one hand it seems long and the on the other very short.

Yesterday was Mother's Day and we dedicated our youngest at church. After the dedication we received a packet with a certificate, a Bible, and a sealed letter. This letter is addressed to our daughter from our pastor for her to open on her 10th birthday. "To be opened on October 5, 2021". 2021? My husband and I both looked at each other. "That's so weird!", he said. All I could think was in 10 short years she'll go from this spit-upy mess to a person with her own thoughts and feelings about life and God. She will actually be able to read this letter herself!

No matter how much I want it to speed up (oh how I would love to go out to eat with our children and sit and talk with no fits and spills) or slow down (sometimes I just want to hang on to the baby lotion and snuggles and bottle it forever), time marches on. Once its gone. Its gone. You can't get the last second back any more than you can make the next second come faster. All we have is the now. So the question is: What will I do with it?

I want to choose to live in every present moment for what it is. I want to stop wishing my seconds away. Instead, I choose to embrace the feverish baby at 3am that just needs snuggled, and on those really hard days when my children turn against me, I choose to be thankful that I'm at home and get to experience those hard days so I can fully appreciate the good ones. I choose to hug and kiss my kids as much as I can so they will never question how I feel about them and because October 5th 2021 will be here soon enough. And, I choose to give these precious moments of time over to God. That His name will be glorified with the time I have here.

And time goes by...

Black tights, Spit-up, and Peanut butter stains...The Lord Gives Strength

"Lord, give me strength." This is the prayer I say many times a day. Sometimes it's muttered under my breath, said in my head, or shouted out loud. Let's face it. I don't leave the house very much with three kids by myself. This means that our home is definitely the biggest source of influence in our children's lives. Knowing this we try to promote a gospel-centered atmosphere. I love playing praise and worship music and hearing my daughter sing along. We pray before meals together and read the Bible often. Another piece to this puzzle is prayer. I know that our kids will learn to pray from us. Now, prayer has always been a struggle of mine. I don't do quiet and still very well. But, prayer doesn't always have to be this way. I've started just praying out loud in front of my children throughout the day. "Lord, give me strength" has seemed to be a favorite. This has also become a good parenting tool. I can already see it in my daughters eyes, "Oh no! Mom's praying for strength again! Better straighten up!"

A few weeks ago, we were headed out the house for a MOPS meeting. I love going to MOPS because everyone there understands if you walk in late without having had a shower. This particular morning my children chose to sleep until 8:30 (of course!). As they woke up I quickly dressed each one and hurried them downstairs. I fed the two little ones breakfast while my daughter decided that black tights would go well with her sundress and attempted to put them on by herself. This ended up with her screaming and flailing around on the floor.
"Lord, give me strength."
So, I trucked the the others up the stairs to help her and change myself. (I can't change until the moment I walk out the door because my baby spits-up like it's her job.) After 20 minutes I finally calmed the tights situation and went to put my clothes on. As I was carrying two children down the stairs, (Yes, my almost two-year old is capable of doing it himself, but if I'm there, he stands at the top and screams until I carry him down.) the baby spits-up all down my arm.
"Lord, give me strength."
After careful consideration I decided to wipe it up and not change my shirt. In comparison to what she's capable of, it wasn't that bad. The really bad ones require a complete outfit change of her and me. You know it's bad when you have to change your underwear too! I herded everyone into the car, strapped in three carseats and we were off! Always a successful feeling! After a minute or two my daughter says, "Mommy, I didn't have any breakfast."
"Lord, give me strength."
 Yikes! I forgot to feed one of my kids! Thank goodness she isn't much a breakfast eater, and in our car there's always a snack bowl of something laying around. As I pulled into the church parking lot I caught a whiff of a familiar smell. Sure enough when I carried my son down the stairs he had put his little dirty hand on my shoulder  and there was peanut butter smeared all over my shirt.
"Lord, give me strength."
Nothing a wet wipe can't fix! I dropped all three kids off, and felt particularly anxious to have some time with other moms this morning.

Now it just so happened that this particular day when we got home, all three kids fell asleep for 2 hours. Whether it's a longer nap, a hug and kiss, a giggling match, or daddy coming home early, there's always something for me to be thankful for. With three little kids every day has it's hard moments, but there's always a one-lined prayer and a God who promises to hear.

Grace in the Moment

A few weeks ago, I had the privileged of putting my 3 year old to bed. Now, I say that with all sincerity. Most nights I'm nursing the baby when it's bedtime, and my husband heads up the stories, books, prayers and songs routine before bed. However, this particular night I was available, and marched her up the stairs looking forward to spending some extra time chatting. I read her one of her favorite books, and then we started talking about all the things we were going to do the next day. We prayed together for a good nights sleep and good choices the next day and then we did our kisses routine. We do heart kisses (her own invention), butterfly kisses, muga muga kisses, and blowing kisses. I felt very good about our time together, and I said goodnight and turned to leave and when it happened. "I need some water" came a tiny voice. I took a deep breath and got her some water. Then turned to leave again. "Mommmmmmmmmy, can you sing me our favorite song?" My first thought was REALLY???? I just spent the last 15 minutes giving you my undivided attention, and you're going to start pulling this tonight? Again deep breath. Oh how quickly my good feeling was quickly turning to impatience and frustration. I had a lot of things to do. The kitchen needed cleaned and I had a stack of mail to go through. Like any mother of young children, I covet the hours from 8:30 to 10:30pm. I knew she was taking advantage of me being there, so I then clarified with her that after the song I would be going. I sang the song, kissed her again, and left the room. I was about 4 steps down the stairs when I hear, "Mommmmmy". I turned and was fully ready to enter the room and announce the age old, "You will go to bed right now, or else...." when I stopped. Something inside me (most likely the Holy Spirit) stopped me. I calmed myself with again a deep breath, and I entered the room to calmly ask what was needed. She reply's, "I love you mommy, goodnight" in a sweet voice. After responding I left the room, and again around the 4th step down I stopped, and was almost driven to tears when I thought how close I came to missing that blessing. If I had barged in with a stern voice and threats, I know I would have never heard those words. How many of those moments have I missed in the past because I respond in frustration, anger, impatience, or sometimes just tiredness?
My heart broke.
This is the opposite of what I want to be accomplishing as parent. I want to foster a relationship where my children can talk to me freely about anything, anytime, anywhere. But, do I really act that way? Do I show them that I'm available like that? Or do I constantly communicate that I have something better to do?
Gut check.
Now I know she's only 3 years old and we're talking about a drink of water before bed, but I also know that all to soon she'll be 10 and need to talk about a friend hurting her feelings, or 15 and it'll be that boy in science class. Or what about when it's the big questions, like: Why isn't God answering my prayers? What will I communicate to her then? Will she see the laundry and clean toilets as more important than her? Or will I be able to drop everything, pull the carton of ice cream from the freezer, and listen? I pray in those moments I will be able to stop again. I know in the future I will most likely do or say something that discourages my child from communicating, but I can confidently say I will make sure that it will happen less often. And, I will continue to pray that God gives me grace so I can give my children grace in the moment.

The start of something new!

So....I finally did it! I've been wanting to start a blog for some time now. Sometimes I have this stirring in my soul to write. Get it out. Get it down on paper. I hear so often how many mothers cannot remember details from when their kids were little. "A blurry fog" they say. There are things I hope I don't remember or wouldn't mind forgetting.
Like:
-when my patience runs thin and I snap at my three year old for changing shoes 5 times when we needed to be out the door 10 minutes ago,
or
-the occasional emotional breakdown I have to my husband late at night because I feel like a failure of a homemaker since there's not fresh bread baking and perfectly folded fitted sheets in the closet.
Yeah, I'm okay forgetting those things.
However, there's so much I don't want to forget.
Like:
-slobbery kisses
-chubby little hands reaching up to be held and comforted
-giggling
- first steps
-fort building
-puppet shows; and I could go on and on.
I guess there are many poor choices on my part that I hope go blurry, but my prayer is the experience of mothering young children always stays fresh and clear in my mind. Nothing has taught me more about myself then becoming a mom. Nothing has made me stand in awe of God more then the parallels that can be drawn from my parental role to God's parental role. Maybe in some way, recording these thoughts while I'm elbow deep in diapers, spit-up, and cheerios will help me to remember more vividly what it was like looking back. I invite you down this journey with me. Welcome to my mind....it's a scary place!! : )

3 side notes:
1. Do you like how technologically advanced this blog is? Clearly a skill I am gifted in, right?
2. I had to laugh that I couldn't find one recent picture of just myself. Not even one that could be cropped and looked good. I always have a kids face smashed up against mine! Love it!
3. I bet you're wondering about the "no hair" bit in the blog address. First, it's hard to find a name that hasn't already been used so I had to get a little creative. I have no hair for 3 reasons. 1. My baby is 6 months old and for me that means my hair starts falling out in sheets. 2. I swear I will go bald one chubby little handful of hair at a time. 3. What little hair I have left after hormones and fist yanks, I will undoubtedly pull out myself on those um.....challenging days.