Power

Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, so that, as sin reigned in death, grace might also reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. Romans 5:20-21

My heart is heavy this evening.  One of my teen-aged girlfriends is feeling like God is absent in her life; she feels forgotten by God.  Among other things that are not going well right now, her relationship with her mom is rocky, because her mom is angry with her. 

My take-away: a mom has the power to make a child of the King forget their identity.

Driving home from work, with this news fresh on my heart, I was hit between the eyes with guilt.  How many times this last week have I been upset or angry with Noah?  How many times have we butted heads and how many times has my stern face and serious voice come out in full force? 

Yes, I know it is perfectly normal (and healthy) to be upset and angered.  Yes, I know it is right to discipline.  But how many times have I coupled those harsh and necessary actions with comfort and love, the very reason for those actions?

Not often enough, that's for sure.  Definitely not every time.  And yet, that is how God makes himself known to me.  EVERY time that I offend him, he gives me discipline and he gives me grace.  EVERY time.

Lord, this responsibility is too great for me.  I know that you have entrusted two young boys to my care, but I am incapable of showing them your love on my own. Be the love here.  Be gracious when I feel I cannot.  Be comfort when I don't know how.  Do a miracle in me, that the boys would see you, all of you, all the time, through me.  By your grace, let me never get in the way of them knowing you and your love for them.  When I mess up, show me.  When I fail, send someone who will succeed.  With every step, conversation, Yes and No, be my motivation and my guide.

Letting Go

I've officially begun my journey on what I'm sure is one of the hardest things about parenthood: letting go.

This afternoon, I picked Noah up from school, or pre-preschool, or whatever you would like to call it, and we headed straight for the park. With the beautiful weather, the extra hour of sunlight, and waiting on my husband to return to town from a meeting, it was the right formula for an hour of fresh air and running around.  As soon as we arrived, I noticed a change in our normal park routine.  Noah was not asking me to help him climb up the stairs, nor was he interested in racing down slides together.  He was confidently doing things on his own and interacting with the other kids who were there (and I am so thankful he can do these things).  I was beginning to wonder, however, if he even noticed I was still at the park with him.  So I sat down close to the play structure, made faces at Zeke who was in my lap, and waited for Noah to look my way.  And waited.  And waited.  I got a glance.  And then I waited some more.  (Finally, his nose was so runny that I initiated a conversation so I could clean him up!)  Sheesh, kid, don't you care that I'm here??

I understood his behavior at the park perfectly well.  He had just come from a classroom of kids where he was one of fifteen children led by only two or three adults.  He was in the mindset of doing things on his own and doing the "work" of playing with other kids.  But that did not lessen my desire for him to want to play with me, to be close to me.

Alas, the job of a parent.

I can only imagine what this looks like at 16. 

More than that, I can only imagine how our Heavenly Father feels when we go off and do our own thing without giving our time with him so much as a second thought.  We give him an occasional glance just to make sure he's still around, and then we keep on doing whatever we were wrapped up in doing before.  Our "playground" is enticing, and it is where he has placed us, but so often we see the playground as the purpose, when really the purpose all along is for us to spend time with Him.

I'm guilty of being the kid who's too wrapped up in what's going on to notice the reason for the occasion.  But still, God is always there.  He waits.  And waits. And waits.  And when I need cleaning up, he initiates and shows his love and care.  And then he waits some more.  

That is amazing love. That is what constantly draws me back into my Father's arms. That is what I want to show my boys.

After about 20 minutes at the park, Noah chose to play with me: swinging "as high as a bird" and hide-and-seek were on the menu today.  I can't speak for him, but it was joy for this parent's heart.

Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God. 1 Peter 2:16

Glimpses

As I stepped into the boys' room this evening to put Zeke in his crib, I was given the gift of a glimpse of the beautiful: the love between a daddy and his boy. There was Dave, sound asleep on the floor right next to Noah's little toddler bed, with his arm resting on the side of the bed. And there was Noah, fast asleep, with his daddy's fingers in his grip.

I'm praying tonight that I would fall asleep hanging on to the hand of my Father.

Real

Noah has entered full-bore into the wonderful world of pretend.  On Monday, for example: his friend, Ty, was playing Legos with him, Grandma Sharon and Grandpa Chuck were having dinner with us, and Mr. Steve (our friend who is a firefighter) climbed up his ladder to reach the kitchen counter so he could talk to me. The mind of a two-and-a-half-year-old is an interesting, curious and cooky place to be.

I wonder how he actually sees the world.  He can get pretty wrapped up in pretend.  Do his eyes "see" what he pretends? Does he cognitively switch back and forth between his worlds, or is it more of a fluid mix of the two?



The other day, we were driving in the car, and Noah said, "I love Santa."  In our house, we down-play the Santa card.  So I asked him, "Is Santa real or pretend?"  "Pretend," said Noah matter-of-factly.  I was so proud that we had such a smart little boy.  Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall. Proverbs 16:18.  A few seconds later, Noah continued, "And I love Jesus."  "Me, too, Noah," I replied. "Is Jesus real or pretend?" "Pretend," he said matter-of-factly. I made sure to correct him.

How can I best teach my boys about a real, living God who is also invisible? How can I distinguish the stories of the Bible from the stories of Curious George and songs of praise from nursery rhymes?  I know that this will be my quest for as long as the boys and I live. This is not one of those things that you learn once in Kindergarten and know for the rest of your life. I know of high school students who wonder if the Bible is indeed all true. Just a few years ago, I struggled to come to grips with whether God was "real or pretend." (A story I'd be happy to share.)

The best witness I have seen for my God is his work, his miracles, his answers to prayers. Our words have power:  when we open and share our real experiences (good and bad and definitely not perfect) and the real way that God has been active in our lives, those around us, especially our kids, will be able to "see" that he is REAL.


Since my youth, God, you have taught me, and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.    Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, my God, till I declare your power to the next generation, your mighty acts to all who are to come. Psalm 71:17-18

Anger

My mom thinks that Zeke has an unhealthy dose of anger.  If that little sixteen weekold wakes up from a nap hungry, and I'm not ready to feed him right away, wach out.  He gets red in the face, and oh, that face.  you would think that the once precious little features were taken over by a movie make-up artist: distirted and intense.  His cry quickly elevates to a scream, loud and commanding of the entire house. He's usually so upset that even after I begin feeding him, he stays mad until the milk hits his stomach.  Perhaps she's right.

Noah gets angry too, of course.  I'm convinced that those terrible twos are just as frustrating for him as they are for Dave and me. When Noah gets upset, he'll usually knock something over, and then his tears set in.  He's got to cry it out to release his frustration.  He usually chooses to retreat to his room for a short minute before he's ready to return and re-engage in the situation or conversation (and have the snot and tears wiped off his face).

Typically, I don't get angered very easily.  However, I had a situation arise this week that has made me very angry.  My heart races; my blood heats up; I fidget; my emotions rush to my head, right to that point behind my eyes.  And if someone makes me talk when I'm in this state, tears stream down my face and I can't get my words to make any sound over my weeping.  I really hate the helpless and disempowered feeling I have when I'm angry.  I don't like being angry.

And yet, this is a part of the person God made when he made me... when he made Noah... when he made Zeke.  I draw wisdom from King David: when he was angry, he cried out to God about it (and wrote a psalm to accompany the cry).

From Psalm 13:2-6

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts

 and day after day have sorrow in my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, Lord my God.

Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,

and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”

and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

But I trust in your unfailing love;

my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing the Lord’s praise,

for he has been good to me.

Psalm 71:1-4

I run to you, Lord, for protection.

    Don’t disappoint me.

2 

You do what is right, so come to my rescue.

    Listen to my prayer and keep me safe.

3 

Be my mighty rock,

    the place where I can always run for protection.

Save me by your command!

    You are my mighty rock and my fortress.

And Psalm 64:1,10

Hear me, my God, as I voice my complaint;

    protect my life from the threat of the enemy.

The righteous will rejoice in the Lord

    and take refuge in him;

    all the upright in heart will glory in him!

I pray that I would learn to always turn to God as David did, trusting and ever hopeful.  And I desire to teach my boys to do the same.

Laps

Fifteen years ago, I was frequently running laps--around the basketball court, track, campus.  These days, I'm still doing laps.  Kitchen to toy room to living room to entryway and back to kitchen = one lap.  Repeat. 

I run laps with Noah to see who can crash on the couch first. We ride our pretend horses around in laps.   I walk laps with Zeke--that's a little more his pace.  I've done laps while energetic and excited, and I've done laps while exhausted, reluctant, and sore. 

Last night, as I was walking laps with a sleepy Zeke in my arms, cuddled up against the bottom of my chin, I was stopped in my tracks.  I was hit with the realization that these are precious times: the snuggles, the coo-ing conversations, the smiles, and yes, even the laps.  I'm not sure what it is about the second child (perhaps the lesson learned from the first: that they do indeed grow up quickly) that makes me more thankful for the little moments at this stage than I ever was the first time around.

Today I am amazed at the maturity of baby Zeke--the easy-going little joy in our home who has surpassed both the three month and sixteen pound marks recently.  He's "communicating," smiling, laughing, and playing.  He loves looking at his hands and listening to his brother.  He almost always giggles when having his clothes changed and when sitting in the bathtub.  These are precious times.

I wouldn't mind if Zeke would just pause his growing up for a moment or two longer.  I would gladly do the work of taking care of this sweet little baby forever.  Thankfully, God sees more than the past and present.  He knows what the future holds for Baby Zeke...when he becomes Toddler Zeke and Teenager Zeke (although those names just don't quite have the same ring as the first).  He knows the growing that needs to happen in Zeke, and the growing that needs to happen in me, as we both journey down the path of being a daughter and son of the King, his little royalty.

My prayer for you, Zeke, and for me:

We ask God to give you complete knowledge of his will and to give you spiritual wisdom and understanding. Then the way you live will always honor and please the Lord, and your lives will produce every kind of good fruit. All the while, you will grow as you learn to know God better and better. 

Colossians 1:9-10

Smiles

This last week, baby Zeke began to smile!  I wish I could properly describe the joy that wells up in my deepest heart when I put my face into his line of sight, say a little something to him, and am rewarded with a tiny little grin. I thank God for creating this little baby's soul.

Some moms talk about falling in love with their babies the moment they feel the first kick or when they are first able to see their newborn.  For me, it's when I see them smile.  At that moment, they become more than a "task" of feed, burp, change, soothe, repeat; at that moment, I am able to see into their hearts and I fall in love.

Zeke's got an easy smile, too.  It seems to show up more and more often each day.  I begin to think about all the ways that God will use that smile as Zeke grows to be His child.  I wonder if he'll like to make people laugh like his daddy and brother do.  I wonder if he'll have a positive outlook on life.  I wonder who his friends will be and whether or not that smile will attract others to himself like it has me.

I wonder why babies aren't born with the ability to smile (socially, that is).  God surely designed it that way with a purpose.  Perhaps it is to give us a glimpse into his patient heart.  He is ever patient with us.  He provides for us in every way, even when all we do is selfishly take from him.  He needs no positive reinforcement to continue his work of drawing us ever closer to him.  He is always there, always willing, always loving.  I only had to wait seven weeks to experience the joy of love returned; God is willing to work an entire lifetime before experiencing such reward. Truly, we have a God whose love is selfless, pursuing, and enduring.

I pray that my boys' souls will be ever smiling before their Father's loving face.