Trust and Patience

Well, yesterday was the day. The day that I had a five percent chance of meeting this little boy blessing who’s been residing within my body for the last 38 weeks. May 11. The day that’s been on the calendar and that’s been the topic of many conversations over the last half year.

I’m not frustrated that I didn’t get to meet him yesterday. Perhaps it’s the part of me that’s naturally patient. But even more than that, I feel like it’s the knowledge and trust I have in the God of all. The Lord of life itself, who challenged me over a year ago to relinquish my desire to control my family to him, has a plan for when this baby needs to be born. He will make it happen in his right time. And I am very satisfied to rest in that.

People are telling me that I’m “dropping” or that I look like it could happen at any time. That’s how I feel, but I also know from experience that people don’t really know what they’re talking about when it comes to gauging a pregnant lady’s “term.” I like how my doctor put it: her crystal ball is fuzzy. 

There’s just no way to know when a baby will be born, which in and of itself is a beautiful exercise in trust and patience. Perhaps God has each momma go through this exercise (multiple times for some of us) to give us a little practice in this trust and patience. There’s no doubt that as these little babies grow up into toddlers and young kids and old kids and grown kids that we continually must walk this line of trust and patience. 

Trust:

We trust that God knows what’s best and has perfect timing in every circumstance. We trust that we are doing all we can as moms to aid the development of our children and provide for their safety and well-being.

Patience:

We are patient (or if we’re not, we drive ourselves crazy with disappointment) for our children to reach each new milestone, to develop in ways that are good and pleasing, to make mature choices, to attain the ideals that we have set before them. And there is even more patience required when they do not even follow the path we desire for them, when they become who they are rather than who we want them to be.

Trust. Patience.

Perhaps I will forever be "practicing" this lesson.

Redemption

I held him in my lap, his ear close to my heart, rocking back and forth slowly on the old rocking chair. This was not how it was.

Earlier.

Earlier, he had pushed my buttons to their limits. Earlier, he had looked at me with those testing eyes and done precisely what I had told him not to do. Earlier, he had been so whiny that I couldn’t even understand what he was trying to whine about. Earlier, he had been crying and frustrated. 

Earlier.

Earlier, I had no patience for his delays. Earlier, I had no grace for his deliberate disobedience. Earlier, I used my mean voice. Earlier, I put him in time out on multiple occasions. Earlier, I felt my heart filling with bitterness. Earlier, I buried my head in prayer because it was the only thing I had the strength to do. Earlier, I was crying and frustrated. 

Earlier.

Earlier, I thought that the battle to get his dirty pull-up changed followed by the battle to get him into his bed for nap would be the end of it. Earlier, I assumed that his poor attitude was from over-tiredness. Earlier, I was thankful for the silence I heard from the bedroom, signaling that sleep had come and that there was rest for my weary mom-soul.

But he woke from his nap groggy and crabby, still holding stubbornly to his idea of how the house should be run. I quickly put up my defenses, preparing for another hour of hard ball. He deliberately disobeyed; I threatened with more punishment. He cried and I looked at the clock, marking the minutes until my husband would be home. And I prayed again, “God, show me how to reach through to him.” I was tired of being frustrated with him, and he was sick of being the source of my frustration. He stood at the door to the backyard, weeping.

I put dinner in the oven and walked over to him, not knowing what to do. I picked him up and he held on tight. So I held on tight. I sat down in the rocking chair that gets rare use. And we rocked. He and I. Me and him. His sobs gradually slowing, and then silencing, as I lightly rubbed his back. We stayed like that for a long time. I talked to God about redemption, and thanked him for redeeming me as a mom and my son as a boy. Peace found its way back to my soul. I spoke in soothing words to my boy about forgiveness and love. He snuggled into me and his breathing slowed. I had dinner in the oven and a baby moving around in my belly, but I didn’t care. There was no other thing I wanted to be focused on in that moment than my relationship with my son. There was no room for anything in my heart than beholding the beautiful joy of being brought back together after pushing each other away. In a simple act, a simple sharing of space and silence and slowed breaths, the cares and frustrations from before vanished like smoke, and were replaced by true and lasting love from God. 

Dear heart, this is redemption. This is forgiveness. This is love.

I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist.

Return to me for I have redeemed you.

Isaiah 44:22

Peace

The afternoon breeze that moves the leaves of our large shade tree in back is cool today. The spring sun is warm, traveling down through blue sky, remiss of any cloud. The wind picks up again and there is a rustle of sweet beauty outside. Inside the house is silent. The boys are sleeping and my love is out for a run. Here in this tranquility, I am thankful for peace. Like the cool breeze that gives life to resting leaves, the peace of this quiet house is precious.

Soon, the boys stir, both waking up at the time time. The big one ready for a snuggle; the small one ready for a snack.Berry-flavored yogurts. Peanut butter and honey. Water. This, too, is precious: this peace of being able to provide for them as their mom. To give them food when they are hungry. To establish routines of predictability for their growing brains. To read them stories to inspire their imaginations. To have peace and love come together. Here is the joy of being a mom.

Now they sit in front of the TV for their screen time of the day, providing commentary to the video game in the unique way that boys do. There is no arguing, no hitting, no yelling. Just the relaxed conversations of boys who are home. Sweet peace.

—-

A day is coming soon when we will introduce another little boy into this clan. As he moves to find a comfortable place within my belly, I wonder where his comfortable place will be within these walls and within this family. Will his arrival bring peace? My previous experiences with newborns stirs up in me senses of exhaustion and loud cries and constant demands: practically the opposite of peace in my head.

Perhaps that is why God has been working in me a great lesson in peace. He is showing me that it comes daily—that it cannot be stored up, but I must be dependent on him for its existence in my life. He is showing me how it comes in small times and in small ways, usually at times when I do not expect it, and when it would be easy to gloss over it; but those are the powerful moments—those moments when we are only aware of his magnificent work if we take a step back to look outside of ourselves to what is going on around us. His peace is precious indeed.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27

Balance

Balance: the ability to keep everything steady and in right alignment.

They say during pregnancy that one's balance is off. Blame the extra hormones and lax ligaments. This lack of balance has kept me from so much as touching my road bike for the last seven months, and it makes me extremely "tackle-able" by the boys. 

However, my physical balance hasn't been the only thing that's been off lately.  As I think this morning about the lessons I'm learning right now, and the ways in which I've been challenged in the previous month, a lack of balance seems to be at the core. For example:

• Today I have plenty of energy and drive. I crossed five things off my to-do list before 9:00 a.m. I think that's twice as many things as I accomplished ALL DAY yesterday, when I was dragging to even get one kid into the car.

• This week, I feel fully connected to my love, which is a glad change of events from last week, where I felt like I was spending more time with the dishes than I was with him.

• On days where the boys are both in preschool or when they take long naps, I am organized and on top of the projects I'm working on. But... that's opposed to every other day of the week when there are either no naps or no down time. On those days, I wonder how I'll ever be able to follow through on the commitments that I've made.

• There are days when I am confident that our family system can handle the change that a new baby will bring. And there are days that the fear of what is to come is so overwhelming that it freezes me in my tracks.

My love calls me a professional waffler. I think he's right. Even so, the chaos of imbalance of the day-to-day is almost enough to drive me bananas.

As long as I'm aware of my need for balance, and the steps to take to achieve it, it should be relatively easy to attain, right? But when I'm put into the driver's seat, I feel like a cautious four year old who isn't ready to give up his training wheels. I hold on to the things that make me comfortable: the very things that hinder me from attaining true balance.

So I land here: the only way to get the balance that I need is to put my mind and heart into complete imbalance, to forget the notion of having my life look like a level balance scale, and instead, to focus solely on the One who outweighs everything else.

There is the stability. There is the end to chaos. And through the imbalance of a heart that is focused, He can bring balance to all that is desired.

You will keep in perfect peace

all who trust in you,

all whose thoughts are fixed on you!

Isaiah 26:3

Snuggling

A fever and my four-year-old.  It's like watching a merry-go-round in slow motion.

The cheer is still behind his words and there is a hint of sparkle still in his eyes, but his movement happens at a snail's pace.  His mind and heart are ready to join in the activity around him, but his body urges him to draw up his oversized green blanket and find a couch.

Our days are passed with thermometer readings, board games, puzzles, "What can we do now?", worksheets, screen time, books, naps and snuggling. Lots and lots of snuggling. Going on six days...

I've got to be honest: there is a part of me that wishes for less snuggling.  You mean you want me to ignore the veggies I just started sautéing on the stove?  You need to snuggle with me? Again? I wonder how I could multitask during this snuggle session...  But there is a wiser part of me that knows this time is brief, that for these passing moments, this little guy needs the comfort of companionship so that he is not alone in his sickness.  "Can you leave the door open? I'll just nap on the couch. Who's going to come be with me so I won't be lonely?" All phrases he has spoken more than once in recent days.  All phrases that give me a glimpse into his heart.

When he's hurting, he seeks to be in loving arms.

This afternoon, I'm challenged to think about how God responds to our needs for snuggles in the midst of our discomfort and pain. He never tells us that he has other things that he needs to be doing, or that time spent with us is not productive enough. He does not ask us to "go it alone" or tell us to wait until he's available.  He is always available.  Always willing.  Always attentive to our cries. 

When we are hurting, we can always seek out his loving arms.

“Because the poor are plundered, because the needy groan, I will now arise,” says the Lord; “I will place him in the safety for which he longs.” 

Psalm 12:5

There is no one like the God of Israel.

    He rides across the heavens to help you,

    across the skies in majestic splendor.

The eternal God is your refuge,

    and his everlasting arms are under you. 

Deuteronomy 33:26-27

He will tend his flock like a shepherd;

    he will gather the lambs in his arms;

he will carry them in his bosom,

    and gently lead those that are with young. 

Isaiah 40:11

The beloved of the Lord dwells in safety. The High God surrounds him all day long, and dwells between his shoulders. 

Deuteronomy 33:12

That's enough to give me the motivation I need, for all the snuggling needed.

Sacrifice

This morning, Noah and I had a discussion about our plan to "give something up" as a family for Lent.  I suggested not playing the Wii, using the iPad or eating treats out of their Halloween pumpkins (yes--we are still milking our Halloween candy around here).  Personally, I'd be happy to be the one to choose which option we pursue, but there's just something about imposing a sacrifice on someone else that seems hypocritical.

He came up to me later when I was putting away laundry:
"Mom, maybe we could not play outside during Lent, because I don't really like playing outside that much," he reasoned.

I can see this is going to be more difficult than I thought...

Hopefully, when Dave comes home, he can use some of his stellar "daddy-negotiation skills" to help us come to an agreement on our idea of sacrifice.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Earlier this week, I came up with a list of Lent and Easter ideas to do with little kids to share with my church.  I'm sharing it here, too.  Hope you enjoy picking out some activities for you to share the meaning of Lent with your kids! 

And if you have any ideas on convincing a four-year-old about the benefits of sacrifice, I'd love to hear them. 

20 Family Ideas for Celebrating Lent and Easter

1. Follow a “path to Easter” like this one.
2. Make a paper chain. Choose a certain color for the 40 days of Lent, and add a special color for each Sunday.  This is a great way to count down with little ones.
3. Create a “Lenten Tree,” using a vase, tree limbs and 45 Bible verses (one for each day between Ash Wednesday and Easter). Read a verse together as a family each day as you take it off the tree. The tree will be bare by the Saturday before Easter, and then you can decorate that same tree Easter morning with beautiful Easter decor! Check out this for a visual.
4. Decide as a family what to sacrifice during Lent: candy, a gaming system, soda, movies, eating out. Teach your kids why sacrifice reminds us of Jesus. Try to replace these things with prayer time or time serving others.
5. Take one item out of your pantry every day of Lent.  By Easter, you’ll have a large donation bin of food that you can give to the local food bank.
6. Memorize a simple prayer or Bible verse together.
7. Start a “Sacrificial Love Jar.” Each time you see your kids (or spouse) acting in a way that reminds you of Jesus’ love for us, add a jellybean (or coin or other treat) to the jar. On Easter, enjoy the sweets of sacrifice!
8. Read an Easter story together.
9. Create/Plant an Easter Garden.  Here’s a great tutorial.
10. Make an Easter Basket for a neighbor. Make sure to include items that help them know the true reason for Easter joy!
11. Make a Crown of Thorns out of play-doh and toothpicks.
12. Light a candle during dinner. You might want to add a candle for each of the days of Lent (better make sure you have 40 candles!) or just add one with each passing week of Lent.
13. Gather spare change during the 40 days of Lent, keeping it in a special jar.  On Easter, you can make a meaningful offering as a family, or donate it to a charity.
14. Watch an Easter movie, like Veggie Tales’ An Easter Carol.
15. Make “Temptation Cookies.” Have the kids help you make cookies. Leave them out in the kitchen after they’ve been baked, but don’t allow the kids to eat them until the following day.  Talk about temptation, and how Jesus was tempted, but never sinned, so that we could have salvation. Sweet!
16. Color Easter Eggs. Talk about how NEW LIFE represents what happens on Easter.
17. Give your kids meaningful Easter Baskets.  Check this out for inspiration.
18. Buy Resurrection Eggs for your family like these, or make your own set like this.
19. Watch caterpillars morph to butterflies with a kit like this. Talk about how Jesus’ resurrection means changed lives for all Christians.
20. Make Resurrection Rolls—my favorite!

Silence

A request for Silent Night.  In the still and darkness of a room only lit by a metallic-blue night light, the voice of a four-year-old half whispering a request for Silent Night.

I don’t ask why or remind him that it’s not Christmas.  I sing.

And as the notes come shaky out of my mouth, his little head finds its way onto my lap. My right hand strokes his so-soft hair. I still smell the bath soap. I rub my grown hands up and down his growing back. We are comfortable in this snuggle.  The notes continue to break through the silent room, house. I sing about the beginning of peace alive on earth. He reaches his arm up and rubs my belly, perhaps wanting to say goodnight to the little brother he felt moving earlier this evening.

Sweet moment.

My heart reaches to its farthest capabilities to try to understand how I am here in this world as a receiver of the creation God has so wonderfully made. He made my son? Incredible. He formed his heart and put those strands of DNA together in a singularly wonderful way so that there would never be another boy like this one? How can it be? It is too marvelous for me.

And to think that I get to be a participant observer to this little creation. Why should I be so blessed?  Why should any of us who are parents, who are watchers of little lives, be so blessed as to be given front row seats for such an event as this.  One special and unique little boy. And the show is mine all for the watching.

Reverence for this brings me to silence. Silent night, indeed.