Walking Softly On Broken Glass

"In any area where we are afraid of our child's reaction, we have lost control as parents." 

I am not even sure exactly when this thought came to me. It came to me this past week, in one of the many encounters where my will went against the will of one of my older sons. I could point to so many instances where I have seen this played out, though.

"It is time to turn off the movie and come to dinner." Tears.

"Chore time!" Stomping defiance

"We are going to prayer meeting tonight." Angry words

"It is time to start school." Protests and then more protests.

Sometimes, I don't do what I need to do because I don't want to deal with the aftershocks of my words. Tears. Anger, Defiance. Moodiness. Talking back.

Just recognizing this truth has helped. Recognizing that I don't always do what is BEST because of the reaction of an elementary school student....really?? Give me a backbone, God, because I need to be able to parent my children!

To teach my children that defiance is not appropriate.

That talking back is not allowed.

That this is our schedule, and this IS what will be happening.

Character training has become more of a priority.

Yes, there is grace, Yes, we give second chances. Yes, the kids can question me once they have responded obediently.

But when the house is run by children, no one is happy. No one is growing. There is chaos, and there is a spirit of unruliness.

My children are still children. I am still aware of the triggers for each child. Yet, within my love and concern for them,  I am learning to BE the parent. I am learning that I am called to lead and guide them. At this stage in their life, leading and guiding means that I am setting up schedules, time frames, activities and boundaries as I see fit.

There is freedom for my children in this. Freedom to get school work done in a timely manner. Freedom to interact peacefully with their siblings without the interruption of bad attitudes. Freedom to experience new things (prayer meeting) and discover that God is working in ways they never dreamed. Freedom to learn from me rather than question everything I say.

It is a little thing, perhaps, but I am enjoying being a mom on a new level because I am free to be the parent God called me to be to my children. I am free to seek Him, and then lead out of what He shows me.

Thank you, God, for revealing this truth to me. 

A School Year Begins

2015-2016. I see this and it  means a school year. 180 days. Like the dates on a gravestone, noting start to finish. This dash contains learning, growing, instructing. Tears. Anger. Peace, joy, and togetherness. I am not afraid of this year, of what it may bring. I anticipate the growth. Several days down. Many more to go. Bring it!

O.b.e.d.i.e.n.c.e.

Obedience. To obey. My kids obey. Sometimes. And they don't obey. Sometimes. And sometimes, they sort of obey. Obedience gets fuzzy.
And then God requires something of me. An act of obedience, and no longer is obedience fuzzy. No longer is it "maybe I did, maybe I didn't, who cares".
Suddenly, obedience becomes a razor sharp, crystal clear decision. To obey. To do what God asks. To set my face in the direction I am called to go. To turn my back (ouch. oh, it hurts) on what I am called to leave behind.
I obey, or I don't. And I know when I haven't obeyed- the uncomfortable rationalizing that leaves me frustrated. Stagnant. And I know when I have chosen obedience, the painful yes to what has been asked of me. After the pain, in the midst of the pain, comes peace. Rest. Surrender into the gentle hands that have molded me and continue to mold me into His vision of perfection.
When I know in my heart that I need to obey, I also know that I have heard the voice of the One who loves me best. Perhaps it is that knowing that gives me the courage to do what I need to do, knowing that it is my good that He seeks.

Precious Moments

There are days, like today, when I am filled with the joy of my children. Having them with me, seeing new growth, being with them, hearing their laughs, their giggles, their play.
I examine my joy, examine this life I am living, because I know it is different from most. I wake up with my children and put them to bed at night...and live most moments in between those moments alongside my children.
I look at my seven year old and realize that these are precious days. He is growing. Changing. Pushing boundaries. And I am witness to these moments. Morning moments. Quiet-time moments. Just-before-supper moments. After supper moments.
I think it is the wealth of these moments that overwhelms me some days. Fills me with a peace and joy that I can't always define. It is full-life. A breathtaking opportunity. It is moments like today, when my 5 year old and 2 year old are cuddled together in an easy chair, my 7 year old sitting on the couch with his arm draped around my 3 year old. And I feel this joy of being us, of living this life the way we have chosen to live it.

The pitter-patter of success, and defeat

It was a hard-won battle, or so we thought.

Since moving into our new home, Avi has formed a night-time habit of snuggling in mommy and daddy's bed. Night after night. Attempts to soothe her back to sleep and lay her down in her own bed have been fruitless, and the fog of the night made a bed-time buddy an easy, cozy alternative to fruitless soothing attempts.

It worked, until it didn't. "Don't wake the baby" became our silent morning mantra, as Delton and I lay quietly in bed, watching the sun peek around the shades, watching our good intentions of early morning rising fade. "Don't wake the baby," who slept peacefully inches from both of us.

And so last night we battled. In the middle of our sleep, cries woke us up. "No more" was our new mantra, and so for an interminable time, Delton and I, one by one, tramped back and forth from our room to hers. Soothing. Settling. Encouraging. Then came the intervals of tears, as we lay sleepless in our bed and she lay furious in hers.

Then, moments of silence in between the tears. Hope rose in our sleepy hearts. We had drawn a line, and she had finally folded...

And then we heard it. The pitter-patter of little feet, the triumphant face of a precious princess carrying both her blankets in triumph. Out of her room, through her brother's room, into the hall, and straight to mommy's side. What could we do? This was a first, but most likely not a last, use of a newly formed skill.

I reached down, drew her into bed, and the three of us, snuggled warmly in our double bed, slept again in the nighttime quiet.

Pure & Simple

This isn't a confession. This is life.
I walked into Pure & Simple. Bought my coffee. Walked over to my seat. A man glanced up from his book and caught my eye. No flirting or welcoming smile. Just a glance.
I sat down, aware that I had no wedding ring on. A size 5 ring was a bit too big when I was first married. I haven't been able to wear it again since Colson's pregnancy.
So, there I was. Possibly single, sitting a table away from a possibly single guy. What would it be like if I was single, available, and he started a conversation? We would laugh, smile, enjoy the mystery of each other. He would get to know me...
I remember the freedom- and pain- of singleness, when encounters like this were okay. Normal. The joy of possibility.
Now, I was married, and the rules were different. Any open door now was an entrance, a step towards the breaking of vows- to love, honor and cherish only my husband. No wiggle room in this.
There was no pounding of my heart. No flushed cheeks. No wishing he would accidentally catch my eye. No, I am very happily married- but more than that, I am cemented in my marriage, committed to this marriage, to giving my heart only to my husband til death parts us. In other words, forever.
This could be an open door in so many ways...if I allowed the door to remain open.
I picked up my phone. Delton, I texted, when I think of love- what never ends, what captures my heart- I think of you. So excited about the journey we are on. (what are we doing tomorrow evening on our date?)
And the door was closed. Locked. Shut. My heart beat true for my one and only.
Life happens. Do you know where you stand?

Life is in the details

Colson...we went to Cove Valley camp for a week. You were just three, repeating prayers back to us in one word.
God, thank you for my food.
Food.
Help me sleep tonight.
Sleep.
Heal my friend who is sick.
Sick.
We prayed, you agreed with a one word affirmation. You loved Cove, playing, riding bike, and hamming it up with the staff. You were not shy! I noticed nothing out of the ordinary when we arrived home, until it came time to pray. I pray? you asked. Sure. And you prayed. Complete prayers, all by yourself, to a God who could hear every every quiet word. Eyes closed, then opened with the amen. And just like that you were praying.

Asher...quite a to-do this week with a big storm, trees down, and fire trucks all over the place checking on a downed electrical box next door to us. So many firemen standing around for what? we as adults laughed, though thankful. You pipe up with humor in your voice...I guess we should rent a port-a-potty!

Ezra, this morning...Mom, are old people still adults?

Avi...clearing out the boys dresser drawers, pulling apart folded piles of clothes, leaving laundry strewn through the house, you are showing me a part of your character that I still can't place. What does all this mean for who you are becoming?