Thirty-Six Days

I can no longer pretend it isn’t happening. No more burying my head in the sand, pretending not to see what is looming on the horizon. Thirty-six days. That’s all that remain…thirty-six days until it happens. The very thought of it makes my throat close up, my heart ache and my eyes well up with tears. What is it, you ask? No, it’s not the end of the world, or the loss of a loved one or a catastrophic event. It is simply the graduation of my first-born. “Oh, is that all?” you laugh. Yes, that is all, but so much more. I had no idea it would be so hard for me to enter this season of letting go. I find I’m so much better at the holding on. Last fall, when my oldest daughter began her senior year, I found myself tearing up very easily, and very often. At one point, eating dinner out alone with her, we began talking about graduation. Molly looked at me and very sympathetically said, “Are you going to cry again, Mom?” My answer…tears. Yes, I guess I am.

As her senior year progressed and we went through the usual progression of college mail, senior pictures and discussions of her future, I managed to live mostly in denial. Whenever we began to discuss what her homeschool graduation ceremony would look like, I would manage to put off that discussion for another time. When we discussed college, and scholarships and majors, I managed to think about it unemotionally, as if it were about someone other than my own daughter. I even made it through our first campus visit with enthusiasm and a sense of nostalgia for my own college days. I designed graduation announcements and made a list of recipients, discussed travel plans with family members and even began to plan the ceremony itself.

But lurking somewhere under the surface were unwelcome thoughts about the “lasts” we were experiencing with this child. Our special family trip to Hawaii last November had a shadow of “last” about it. Would this be the last time we traveled to our favorite place as a family of five? Would our next family trip (a much beloved tradition) be as a family of four? How many more Christmases would be celebrated with all our children around our tree? As I filled out my planner for homeschool, I realized that next year there would only be two columns, instead of three. As I began to research curricula for next year, I was searching for one-third less material. And finally, as I could put it off no longer, we began to fill out graduation announcements and order cake and plan the ceremony. And I began to let myself grieve.

As I write this, I am sitting in a hotel room in Houston. My husband graciously brought me along on his business trip to give me a few days of rest. I am comfortably ensconced in a lovely hotel room with a giant desk to work on and a picture window with a view of the woods. The day is grey and drizzly and it matches my feelings as I write, uninterrupted, sorting through the feelings I have so successfully squelched for the last few months. And I ponder…why am I grieving so fiercely? It’s not like anything that major will change. Molly will be attending a local university and living at home. I’m not losing her, not having to bear leaving her at a strange place and not seeing her for months at a time. So, why is my heart so sad?

I think it is this: I see it as the beginning of the end of something beautiful. I have loved being a mother more than words can say. From the moment I first heard those long-awaited words “you’re pregnant”, I have thrived as a mother. I love being with my children, I love teaching my children, I love sharing their hearts and their lives and their dreams. I love teaching about motherhood, and writing about motherhood, and encouraging other mothers on their journey. When Molly graduates, it means the others aren’t far behind, that someday, I will be finished. My children will be grown, and there will be no do-overs. I won’t get another chance to fix the things I did wrong, to re-live the chances I missed, or to relish the moments I overlooked. For better or worse, my job will be done. And oh, how that grieves my heart.

And yet, I know that this is the point. This is why I missed all those nights of sleep, why I dried so many tears and bandaged so many knees and cheered so many successes. To raise children who love God and follow Him was the goal all along. And as I watch these precious little souls blossom into adulthood with a faith that will sustain them all the days of their lives, I smile. And in the whispers of the silence, I hear a blessing from my Father, graciously saying “Well done.” And in the midst of my grieving, I am comforted. So, while I will undoubtedly shed a few more tears before we’re done, I will also rejoice as I watch my first-born begin her adult journey, knowing that God has good plans for her future, and for mine. So, for now, I will try to enjoy every single one of those thirty-six days, and not waste a single moment.

Just Yesterday...

I remember when, as a young mother, older women would repeatedly say, “Enjoy every moment…it goes so fast.” And inside, I would think, “Really? Because it seems like years since I had a full night’s sleep.” Not that I wasn’t enjoying every minute…but I sure was tired. Sometimes the days seemed long, when I was home all alone with three little ones needing every ounce of my attention and nurturing. Sometimes the nights seemed even longer. I never wished away the moments, although I did occasionally think “Okay, I am REALLY done with potty training now!” Sometimes the weeks seemed long, when my husband traveled on business and I tackled the parenting alone. Sometimes the seasons seemed long, when we entered a difficult phase with one of the children. But then something would happen to give me pause, like a baby learning to walk, a child losing his first tooth, or a kindergartener heading off to school, looking so grownup with their carefully chosen backpack on their back. And I’d think, “No, wait! It’s all going too fast!” And as each year passed, and my babies got older, it seemed that the calendar pages just started to fly. Soon we went from having one in school, to having three in homeschool. Overnight, it seemed, we went from being young parents with small children, to (gasp!) middle-aged parents with teenagers.

And today, we enter a new phase…that of parents to an adult. Eighteen years ago today, our precious firstborn entered the world and we became parents. I remember taking her home from the hospital and my husband and I looking at each other in disbelief that we were really solely responsible for this tiny little creature. Oh, and it couldn’t possibly be eighteen years ago…it was just yesterday, wasn’t it? It was just yesterday that we prayed desperate prayers that God would give us a child. It was just yesterday that she finally joined our family, the answer to a thousand prayers. It was just yesterday that she sang her way through our house, one minute being Cinderella and the next Snow White. It was just yesterday that she headed off to school and broke my heart when she came home with the oft-repeated phrase, “But, Mommy, Mrs. S. does it THIS way.” It was just yesterday when we pulled her out of school to continue educating her at home and we battled for a year before she became content with homeschooling. It had to be just yesterday when she fervently pledged her life to Christ and was baptized in our Jacuzzi tub. I’m certain that it was just yesterday when she started to grow into this lovely young woman who took my breath away when she danced. It was just yesterday when I saw her all decked out in a Civil War ball gown, with her hair in a beautiful updo and her makeup so perfect, heading off to the ball on her daddy’s arm. It was just yesterday that we began planning her future, with college choices and scholarship applications and late night talks about life and love. And now, here she stands, a beautiful young woman with a passionate heart and a determined outlook, ready to take those first steps into her adulthood. And I think my heart will overflow.

And now I know that those little old ladies were wise beyond measure…time really does fly and there is nothing we can do to slow it down. Those endless nights of rocking and feeding that tiny little baby will soon turn into late nights of waiting for your teenager to come home from work, and praying for her safety on the snow-covered streets. Those days of thinking you’ll never have an adult conversation again will soon turn into late night gabfests with your almost adult child. The carefree years of thinking they will always eat at your table, or be with you on vacation, or celebrate Christmas around your tree will all too soon be days of waving goodbye as she drives off to work, or watching proudly as he dons his cap and gown, or wiping away a tear as she walks down that aisle dressed in white to begin her life with another. You know what? The little old ladies were right.

So, as I celebrate my sweet girl today, I will be listening a little more closely, taking a little more time to just talk, and remembering each precious moment. And even as I grieve the “lasts”, I will be rejoicing in the satisfaction of watching a little girl grow into a woman who loves her family and her Lord and is ready to take those tentative first steps into the rest of her life. God be with you, my precious Molly. We are so proud of the lovely young lady you have become. You are a treasure and a gift, and your daddy and I will love you forever.

To read Molly's thoughts on turning eighteen...

I Choose You

Last week, our family traveled to Indiana to spend Thanksgiving with my brother and his family. We were thrilled to have some family time together and couldn’t wait to meet the newest member of our family, a little girl named Emma. Emma is the second child to be adopted from China into our extended family. Emma’s new mom is my sister-in-law’s sister (confused yet?), so technically she is no relation to me. But I have never been one to care about the “rules” that define a family. My husband and I are close to Emma’s parents, having known them most of our lives. Our kids call them “aunt” and “uncle” and we fulfill the same role for these precious two little girls from China. We mutually decided that we were family and our kids were cousins. So it was with great expectation that we drove the endless miles to Indiana, anticipating the first time we would hold this amazing gift from God.

The first time we saw Emma was when we met at a portrait studio, hoping to update the “cousin” picture that we each have hanging in our homes. The studio was crowded and noisy, being the day before Thanksgiving. Little Emma, who is twenty-one months old, was very overwhelmed by the crush of people, the flashes of light and all these eager relatives wanting to hold her. She is still adjusting to her new life, having been with her new parents only a few months. She was seventeen months old when they got her, and was very attached to her caregiver, making the transition a painful one for her. Many, many tears were shed over the next days and continue to be shed as she adjusts to her new life. While I wanted desperately to hold her and kiss her, I held back, seeing the uncertainty in her eyes. I waved at her from afar, delighting in her sweet face and adorable, toddling steps. The photo session will go down in our family history as quite an experience…the best one we managed to get was all the other kids smiling and Emma screaming her head off. All that mattered to me is that we managed to record a moment in our family history—the addition of a new cousin. The kids will always treasure that picture and tell of that picture shoot forever, saying, “Remember when?”

The next few days, the closest I could get to Emma was when I offered her a finger to hold as she toddled around the house. She wouldn’t let me hold her, but was delighted to go walking, holding on to my outstretched hand. We walked, back and forth, through the house, again and again. My heart was full as I memorized each precious feature of this miracle baby who had joined our family. My arms ached as I longed to hold her, but I determined to be patient and give this little girl what she needed until she felt safe enough to accept me.

Finally, on our last night in Indy, as I was sitting on the couch at Emma’s house, she came into the room, carrying a book. She looked up at me and smiled her beautiful, sweet smile. She reached up and handed me her book and then lifted her arms to me, asking to be held. I gently picked her up and placed her on my lap and she snuggled deep into me and looked up at me with that angelic smile, waiting for me to read to her. I literally felt my heart melt with love for this child. I held her close and read to her for as long as she would sit. We read about Australian animals over and over and over and I sang a silly song to her about the Kookaburra, delighting in her laughter. With that moment, Emma was sealed forever in my heart as a member of our family.

As I’ve pondered this experience, I had a moment of clarity. While Emma is not biologically a part of my family, she is now a member in full standing of the Blake/Richardson/Metzger clan. Her parents chose her, took her in, and love her completely. Her aunts and uncles adore her and her cousins delight in her. What a beautiful picture of what God has done for us. While we were sinners, having a nature that was completely opposed to His, He chose us to be a part of His family. He loves us, adores us, and delights in us. When we lift our hands to Him, His heart melts with love for us, just as mine did for little Emma. He has given us full standing as sons and daughters of the King and is preparing a home for us to live with Him forever. He has adopted us into His family and given us everything that we need. Just as Emma’s parents took her into their lives and their hearts, God has taken us into His. What a precious gift little Emma is to our family, and what an overwhelming gift God has given to us by choosing us to be His children. Thank you, Emma, for coming into our family and for showing us a picture of how very much our God loves us.

“God sent him to buy freedom for us who were slaves to the law, so that he could adopt us as his very own children.” Galatians 4:5

Becoming a Parent Who Prays - Praying for Our Children Part I

This summer, I am spending a lot of time studying the idea of being a parent who prays. My mother and I are teaching a class at church for mothers and grandmothers who desire to learn more about how to pray effectively for the children they love. As usual, we are the ones who are learning the most! My next few posts will be from materials put together as we teach this class…I pray it will be an encouragement to you and that it will inspire you to pray fervently for your children.

The first thing to understand is what God says about prayer. There are many verses in the Bible about prayer, which teach us how to pray, what to pray for, etc. He tells us to pray without ceasing (I Thess. 5:17), to not give up (Luke 18:1), and that nothing is impossible for Him (Luke 1:37). He also tells us that we have a helper to intercede for us (the Holy Spirit) when we are so upset or confused that we don’t even know what to pray. He gives us an example in Samuel, the Old Testament Prophet, who tells the people of Israel that it is actually a sin NOT to pray (I Samuel 12:23-24). My favorite hidden treasure that was uncovered in my studying, however, was the fact that God says He will answer even BEFORE we finish speaking (Isaiah 65:24). What a comfort to know that God is listening, He knows our needs even before we finish telling Him, and that He even helps us to be able to pray in our time of need.

So why is it important to pray for our children? If God knows what they need anyway, why does it matter whether or not we pray for them? I believe it does, indeed, matter. In fact, I would venture to say that it is our most effective parenting tool. I don’t know about you, but I can readily admit that I am not capable of being the perfect parent. I make mistakes, I lose my temper, I make wrong decisions all the time. The good news? There is a perfect parent who is waiting for us to ask for help, and when we ask, He promises He will answer. Instead of turning to the latest parenting “experts” (whose advice seems to change every few years!), we can turn to the real expert…the One who created our precious children and knows them better than we do. When we are struggling to figure out their behavior, or what makes them act the way they do, He already knows. And He is more than willing to guide us in our parenting…all we need to do is ask.

I also believe it is important to pray for our children because our prayers unleash the power of God in our children’s lives. When we are willing to admit our helplessness, we are becoming the vessel through which God’s power can act. It is a stepping out of the way so that God can work. Instead of blocking His power with our stubbornness or pride, we can humble ourselves and let His power and wisdom have their way in our children, and the results will be beautiful. How could we possibly know better than the very God who made every aspect of their character?

Another benefit of praying for our children is the effect our prayers have on Satan. If we are protecting our children in prayer, his power over their lives is lessened. By putting up this shield around them, we are freeing them to be able to make right choices and follow God’s will for their lives. We should remember that when we are praying for our children, we are actually doing battle for their very lives. Satan has determined to see them fail. He wants desperately to devour our children and keep their hearts from God. Don’t ever be fooled into thinking that your prayers are insignificant. While God has a good and perfect plan for your child’s life, Satan has an evil and devastating plan for them. Your prayers may be the weapon that keeps Satan from having his way with your child…what could be more motivating than that?

One of the beautiful blessings of being a praying parent is that God will also fill our hearts with peace as we trust His path for our children. We will be freed from the anxiety and unrest that comes with trying to control the lives of our children and keep them from all harm. Whenever I find myself worrying about a specific aspect of my child’s life (such as their health, or who they will marry), I remind myself that God already has it all worked out and that He loves them…even more than I do. What could be more reassuring than that?

The Gift of Motherhood

When my husband and I first married, we dreamed about what our family would look like someday. We’d talk of little girls to dress in pink, and boys to dress in blue. We agreed that two would be nice, a boy and a girl, or just maybe three…we’d have to see. We decided that in three to five years we’d be ready to start this family that we dreamed of…of course, I meant three years and my husband meant five. When three years rolled around, I decided I was ready to take this next step in our lives and start a family. I talked to my husband and was surprised to find out that he had really meant five years…I couldn’t believe he wasn’t as ready as I was to begin this new journey. So we waited, and we prayed, and we discussed what having a baby would mean to us. And then, one day, while we were on a vacation touring the East Coast, he gave me a card and said…”I’m ready”. My heart was overjoyed, and I immediately began making plans. I couldn’t wait until the day that we found out our wish had come true.

So we waited, and we prayed, and we discussed all the ins and outs of adding a baby to our family. And then we waited some more. And some more. And some more. Suddenly, this dream of having a family seemed a little farther out of reach. I began to cry, every month, when our dream didn’t happen. And I began to resent the hurtful questions thrown at me every time we went to church. “When are you guys going to start a family?” “Hey, you’re getting behind…your brother already has two…Don’t you want to have a baby?” As I pretended to not care, my heart was breaking. My whole life I had dreamed of being a mother. I decided not to go to medical school because I wanted to be a mom. Suddenly, I began to wonder, “Who will I be if I can’t be a mother? It’s all I want…I don’t dream anymore of a big career. I just want a baby to love and raise.” The months went by and nothing happened. Finally, the doctor I was seeing agreed to help us (their policy was you had to wait a whole year before they would intervene). After several more months of treatment, and several more negative pregnancy tests that absolutely broke my heart, and after switching to a much more compassionate doctor, we received the news that, at long last, we were expecting.

The joy that filled my heart was indescribable. I walked around in a daze for several weeks, in absolute disbelief that God had answered our prayers. I remember thanking God over and over again, delighted that we would finally have our family. As the months passed and my belly grew, I laughed in delight at the miracle inside me. And when that amazing day finally came, and my sweet little daughter was placed in my arms, I was absolutely overcome with gratitude toward the God who had allowed me to become a mother. I knew without a doubt, this was the best gift in the world, and I was ready to give everything I had to protect and cherish this tiny little girl named Molly.

I didn’t know if we would ever be able to have another child, but God was gracious to us. Almost four years later, He blessed us with a son, and two years after that, He blessed us again with another daughter. I look at my precious children and I am so thankful. I can’t imagine my life without any of them. Our children are a priceless gift from the Lord and we are humbled that He chose us to raise them.

When I look around at our society, and I see babies discarded as unwanted trash, and children being treated with harshness and impatience by their mothers, my heart grieves. I believe that God views children as a blessing, and we often receive them as a curse. He intended for us to love and cherish these precious little ones, and to honor the role of motherhood. Instead, our society has deceived us into believing that we should value careers and money and possessions over the noble calling of motherhood. We’ve devalued something that God says is beautiful, and elevated worthless things in its place. What a shame…I wonder sometimes what blessings we’ve missed out on because of these choices.

So, this Mother’s Day, I will hold my head high and be proud of the role I have chosen. I will look at my most precious gifts (named Molly, Noah and Lexi), and I will thank my Heavenly Father from the bottom of my heart for the incredible privilege of being their mom. I will also thank Him for the lovely lady that I call “Mom”, and for all that she has taught me about being a godly mother who delights in her children. And I will do my very best to teach my children to embrace God’s view of babies and motherhood and pray that someday, they, too, will accept with joy God’s calling to be parents.

Amazing Love

I grew up with a mom and dad who loved me very much. I never doubted their love, yet I don’t think I really understood the depths of that love until one very specific moment. I remember sitting on the couch with my mother, holding my precious newborn daughter. We were doing all the things you do with your newborn baby…examining her tiny little toes and fingers, rubbing her soft little head and gazing at this miracle that God had given to me. All of a sudden, an overwhelming wave of love swept over me and I was absolutely consumed with the knowledge that I would do anything to protect this tiny little bundle in my arms. I began to weep, and I looked at my sweet mother and said, “You really love me, don’t you?” All at once, as I experienced this amazing love for my new daughter, I completely understood how my mother feels about me. It was a defining moment in my life.

As I grew into my role as a mother and experienced that mother-love for the first time (and then for a second and third time as well), I began to understand something else. It was as if a veil was lifted and suddenly I could see that the all-consuming love I felt for my baby is but a dim reflection of how God feels about me. Now I grew up in church and always knew that “God so loved the world”, but this was different. This was personal…this was knowing that God looks at me the way I look at my children. He rejoices when I learn something new. He grieves when I make bad choices. He covers me with His love and protection and forgives me over and over and over again.

This weekend we celebrate the resurrection of our Savior. We celebrate that Jesus has freed us from the power of sin and given us the hope of eternal life in heaven. None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for the amazing love of a Father who was willing to sacrifice his precious only son…for me. Long before I was even born, God knew that I would be. He knew the color of my hair, the shape of my face, the quirks of my personality. He loved me so much that He made a plan to save me and bring me into a relationship with Him, even though it cost Him everything. He loves me…He really loves me.

And if that isn’t overwhelming enough, then I think about Jesus. He, too, was willing to sacrifice everything—even his very life—for me. He let people beat him, curse him, mock him and nail him to a cross. Worst of all, he suffered the unimaginable pain of separation from his Father, bearing my sins so that I could be forgiven. Understanding that kind of love is a humbling experience…it brings me to my knees as I realize the depth of his love for me.

This Easter, I am grateful. I am grateful that God is not an impersonal God, but one who loves me with an all-consuming love. As we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection on Sunday, my heart will be overwhelmed by the awesome and amazing love of my Savior…in the words of Charles Wesley in a beautiful old hymn “Amazing love, how can it be, that thou my God should die for me?” I will marvel at the agony of the cross, the three days of despair, and finally, in the glory of the resurrection…He is risen indeed.

When Firsts Become Lasts

Being a mother entails being the keeper of many “firsts”. Ask any young mother when their baby got their first tooth, and you will likely get a rapid response. On the contrary, ask a father, and he will likely answer, “The baby has a tooth?” For some reason, God has made mothers the keepers of such memories. We notice every first our children accomplish, from their first steps to the time they read those first few words from a book. Many of us faithfully record these instances in baby books and scrapbooks, preserving the memories for the future (at least until we have more than two children…then our scrapbooking efforts often get a little sketchy!).

I’ve noticed, however, that the “lasts” tend to pass by unnoticed. One day, we realize that no one has asked us to tie a shoe for them. No one has asked us to read a bedtime story or dress a doll for them or place a Band-Aid on a wound. In what seems like the blink of an eye, we’ve gone from providing for every need to occasionally assisting. And, in the hustle and scurry of everyday life with children, those “lasts” have slipped by without us recognizing them. I have to confess, this makes my heart sad until I remember that this is God’s design: we are given a tiny little being to mold and shape and love and nurture into an independent, God-fearing adult. If we have done our job well, we will reap a harvest of blessings in watching our children serve and love the Lord as independent adults.

I am starting to feel like I am entering that season of lasts. My oldest daughter is a sophomore. She is driving, has a job and is starting to think about college. We are working on a high school transcript, figuring out when to take the PSAT and SAT, and beginning to talk about college and future plans. While I share her excitement as she figures out where God is leading her, my mother’s heart also aches at the coming changes. Today, I am helping her get ready for her first formal dance, a Civil War Ball that she is attending with her father. As I hem up her hoop skirt and help her choose a hairstyle and paint her nails, I wonder…is this the last time she will ask for my help in such matters? As I watch her learn to be more and more independent, my emotions are a jumble. I am thrilled with her maturity and her growing wisdom. I love that she is so capable…she can clean, cook, sew, take care of children and she loves God more than anything. Yet at the same time, I see that serious little brown-eyed girl who followed me around with endless questions and I miss her. We’ve already passed so many “lasts”…how many of them did I even notice?

So, if you are a young mother, overwhelmed by the daily tasks of bathing, diapering and feeding your young, please listen. While the days seem long now, I promise you the years will fly by at an unbelievable pace. After years of “firsts”, you will suddenly find yourself grieving the “lasts”. Take the time to enjoy them…enjoy the funny things they do that make you laugh. Treasure every time they crawl up into your lap with a book for you to read. Soak in every moment of quiet conversation at their bedside as they ask you the questions of their hearts. Listen to just one more question when you are weary to the bone. Give an extra hug or a kiss and store up those precious moments in your heart. For all those “firsts” will all too soon turn into “lasts”.

The days they crawl, the years they fly
As one by one, they pass me by.
Some days are years, but years are days
As they grow up beneath my gaze.

Just yesterday they were so small
How can it be they’re now so tall?
They used to cuddle on my knee,
And now it is their eyes I see.

Sometimes I worry, fret and pray,
I wonder what to do and say.
The days with them are precious few,
The years with them are precious, too.

Will they be ready on that day
When far from me, they fly away?
Will I have trained them, taught and shown
Enough to help them when they’re grown?

It matters not what they become
As long as they don’t wander from
The One who made them, and loves them best
Who gives them love, joy, peace and rest.

If they grow up to serve him well
As only time and God can tell
I’ll know that I have finished strong
The job that seemed so short, so long.

--Wendy Metzger

Mothering Myths - Part I - The Myth of "Me"-Time

One of the most common complaints I hear from mothers is their lack of “me”-time. Weariness sets in and mothers long for an escape…for an hour alone to sleep, read a book, or go shopping without an entourage of strollers, diaper bags, and cranky toddlers. Mothers dream of a long, hot bubble bath without little fists banging on the door, shouting “Mommy! Jeffy spilled juice on the carpet!” They imagine long afternoon naps, uninterrupted by babies crying, clothes dryers buzzing and siblings fighting. After long days and weary nights of meeting physical, emotional and spiritual needs, sometimes for years on end, their hearts cry out, “But what about ME?”

The world’s answer to this problem is to demand our rights. We DESERVE a break, we NEED a nanny or a housekeeper or a more sympathetic husband. We OUGHT to find something that fulfills us, such as an art class or a part-time job or the time away to write a book. Our culture tells us that we couldn’t possibly find fulfillment in something as mundane as mothering, so we need to look elsewhere for our happiness. Probably the most common question I am asked (and decidedly my least favorite) when people hear that I homeschool my children is this: “But when do you have time for yourself?”

I believe that God’s answer to this dilemma is one that turns the world’s wisdom upside-down. Nowhere in Scripture does God tell us to satisfy our own needs or pursue our own desires. Instead, He instructs us to serve with humility and with our whole hearts, and to rely on Him for the strength to do so. Even more powerfully, He gives us an example of what this looks like in His son, Jesus Christ. Mark 10:45 says that “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." The Messiah himself came to earth and served endlessly, purposefully and uncomplainingly. He served when he was tired, when he was grieving, and even just hours before he was facing a horrifying death on a cross.

How did he do this? The Bible tells us that Jesus was fully human, facing all the temptations and limitations of inhabiting an earthly body. How did he keep going, keep meeting needs day after day after day? I believe he was able to do this because he had one goal—that of pleasing his heavenly Father. He drew his strength from God himself, and kept his gaze firmly fixed on his Father instead of firmly fixed on himself and his own needs and desires. The happiest moms I know are those who have fixed their eyes on Jesus. They have resolutely surrendered their own agendas and have invested their whole hearts into serving their families with love and selflessness. On the contrary, the most unsatisfied moms I know are clinging to their own wants and have listened to the world’s messages that tell them they can’t possibly be fulfilled by this role of mothering. They feel empty and unfulfilled and busy their lives with more and more activities, trying to find satisfaction.

Is being a God-focused mom instead of a me-focused mom an easy task? Absolutely not. Have I achieved this myself? Decidedly no. This is a daily battle for every mom—will I live in selfishness or surrender? While surrender is painful, and oftentimes frightening, the fruit is incomparable. When we surrender our will to God’s, He not only provides peace and joy and rest, but the strength to carry on in His power. In Isaiah 1:19, God tells the disobedient Israelites, “If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land”. I believe the same holds true for us as mothers. If we are willing and obedient to the calling God has given us as mothers, we will see the fruit of our wholehearted mothering. A passage that I discovered early in my journey as a mother (and have clung to ever since) is found in Isaiah 58:9-11:

Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
"If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,

and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.

The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.

I absolutely love this passage. Although it was written by the prophet Isaiah countless years ago, it speaks to the heart of mothering. We are laboring under a yoke of oppression that the world has thrust upon us. We have swallowed the lie that mothering is a menial task instead of a divine calling. We are struggling to keep parenting in our own strength, instead of taking part in the divine power that God offers us freely. This passage teaches us that God is our source of strength and satisfaction and that if we willingly give ourselves to our children (the hungry and oppressed!), He will provide all that we need to flourish like a well-watered garden. Notice that it doesn’t say we will just survive, but that we will flourish!

Am I saying that we never need a break from our task? Of course not. Even Jesus stole away for a few hours of refreshment (and was often interrupted by his needy disciples—sound familiar?). Taking some time out to refresh and restore our souls is vitally important, but we need to make sure we are receiving our refreshment from the right source. Taking the time for a manicure or a girls’ night out can be fun and relaxing, but don’t neglect to spend some time taking in God’s refreshment by reading His word and praying daily. The lover of our souls is the one who knows exactly what we need and is ready and waiting to supply it.

So how about it? Are you willing to try an unconventional approach to mothering? Are you willing to give up the world’s quest for “Me” and devote yourself to loving service to your family? Although it won’t be easy, God promises us that He will provide the strength and joy and peace that we need. When we turn over our rights and desires to God, He promises that He will satisfy our hearts and strengthen our bodies. He will sustain us in those long days and weary nights, and help us to find joy in this season of mothering. Even better, our families will flourish when we are surrendered and are giving to them out of love, not out of obligation or guilt.

“Me”-time is a myth…we will never find satisfaction in feeding our own souls. Only in God can we flourish in this season of mothering and successfully love and train these precious children that have been entrusted to us.

Wasn't It Just Yesterday?

I just dropped off my oldest child, Molly, for her first day of work at her new job, a local fast-food restaurant. Watching her walk in the door, after praying together in the car, my heart felt a tug. Pictures flooded my mind of an adorable toddler with light brown, wispy curls, holding a piece of paper and a crayon as she seriously took my “order”. Seconds later, she would reappear, bearing a plastic tray with plastic food, which she usually managed to drop once or twice on her way to the Little Tikes table where I was sitting with my knees nearly touching my chin. As I pretended to taste her food and proclaim it the best I’d ever had, she would put her hands on her hips and suggest, “You want some more, don’t you, Mommy?” As I watched her disappear inside the restaurant and prepared to return home, my heart wanted to cry “Wasn’t that just yesterday?”

It seems that lately, there are too many “firsts”, which are starting to feel way too much like “lasts”. My daughter is growing up right before my eyes. Seemingly overnight, she has turned into a young woman, with insights and wisdom that sometimes catch me by surprise. Our conversations have turned from childish things to topics such as colleges, spiritual questions, and planning for her future. She has become my favorite shopping buddy, my right arm, and even, at times, a shoulder to lean on. The little girl who used to pepper me with endless questions about how things worked or speculations about imaginary princesses now invites me in for late night “girl talk”. The sweet child who used to play dress up with my fancy bridesmaid dresses and satin shoes now races in to say “Mom, can I borrow that white sweater?” The tiny ballerina who used to dance from room to room in her favorite “twirly” skirts now makes me weep with the sheer beauty and elegance of her grace as she dances en Pointe.

While I am overwhelmed with pride as I watch her fulfilling her dreams and reaching for her future, my mother’s heart also aches as I release yet one more of the heart strings attaching her to me and watch her spread her wings just a little bit more. What a bittersweet thing it is to see your daughter grow up, to be thrilled with who she is becoming even as you miss what she used to be. While I love the relationship we have grown as she has matured, sometimes I miss that tiny girl who climbed in my lap, begging for one more story, one more song. My mother’s heart will always see those chubby cheeks, those sparkling brown eyes, that charming girl who flitted around the living room, pretending to be Cinderella at the ball or Snow White running through the forest, even when she is all grown up.

We have many more “firsts” ahead in the next few years—first driving lesson, first date, first car, first love. Each year brings new opportunities, new challenges and new experiences. As she continues to grow into a beautiful young woman of God, my prayer is that I will be able to rejoice in the “firsts” without grieving too much over the “lasts”.

Bless You, Mom

One of the greatest blessings God bestowed on me came in the form of a petite, quiet, gentle-spirited woman. She never held any high-powered job, although she is extremely intelligent. She was never rich in material possessions and never sought after fame or fortune. She was content to “feather her nest” and make a wonderful home for her loving husband and two sometimes appreciative children. She lovingly cooked our meals, sewed us lovely clothes, and played dolls and baseball and board games without complaint. She kept her house tidy and organized and drove us to baseball games and play practices, youth groups and music lessons. She submissively served her husband and packed our household and moved us cross-country more than once, even when it was not what she wanted. She took care of us when we were sick (which in my case, was a lot!), dried our tears and shared our laughter. Our friends wanted to play at our house because she was so welcoming. They wanted to eat at our house because she was such a good cook. Most of all, they just wanted to be included in her circle of loving…and she always complied, even if she was tired, or had a headache, or just wanted to be alone.

Without her, I don’t know who I would be. She inspired me to respect and desire the role of motherhood. She taught me to love my Heavenly Father and desire to serve Him first. She taught me what a quiet and gentle spirit looks like in real life. She gently countered the worldly influence telling me that I needed to attain some great career, not stay at home and mother children. She showed me all I ever needed to know about grace and beauty and contentment. She taught me how to listen, really listen, with my heart as well as my ears. She taught me to love words and reading and writing, and encouraged my first efforts at expressing myself through the written word.

She showed me I was important by the way she dropped everything when I arrived home from school and allowed me to tell her the most insignificant details of my day over a snack. She gave me confidence by listening with her full attention. She taught me the value of touch as she lovingly stroked my hair as I lay with my head in her lap after a rough day. She demonstrated the necessity of spending quiet time with God as I watched her with her Bible open on her lap and a cup of tea on the table by her spot on the couch.

Everything I needed to know, I learned not at the hands of my kindergarten teacher, but by the side of my precious mother. Her sacrifices, her patience, her tenderness all communicated to me that I was loved, I was important, and that my choices mattered. In the process of growing up, I may have wanted to be a doctor, a veterinarian and a singer, but deep down I knew I really only wanted to be one thing when I grew up…I wanted to be just like my mother.

I pray that someday, my children will look on me with the love and respect I hold for my mother, even though I don’t deserve it. I pray that somehow, through the grace of God, they will learn from me what it means to be unconditionally loved and accepted, and that my daughters will grow up desiring this most divine calling of motherhood.

I’m humbly grateful that I had a mother of such “noble character” and this Mother’s Day, I “rise up and bless her” (Proverbs 31:10, 28). Happy Mother’s Day, Mom…I will always love you.

Wanted: Mother or Martyr?

WANTED: Someone to fill a full-time (24/7) position, includes endless laundry, preparing three meals a day (plus countless snacks and drinks), dish-washing (every time you pass the sink), house-cleaning (never finished), running a household (and keeping track of each member’s schedule), chauffeuring (miles and miles per week, must also pump own gas), bill-paying, nursing (including the unpleasant duties of cleaning up after sick children), teaching (everything from manners to how to tie a shoelace to geometry), peace-keeping, police officer and judge (even when both sides think they are justified and there is no actual evidence to prove who is right), entertainment providing (to the frequent refrain of “there’s nothing to do!”), and other assorted duties. No holidays or sick days provided; pay is not negotiable (in other words, there isn’t any).

Does this sound like your job? Sometimes, this is what motherhood can feel like…an endless stream of chores, expectations and repetition. We feel like the maid, the nurse, the cook, the chauffeur. The repetition of each day’s activities can be tiresome, the sheer amount of work to be done overwhelming. Have you ever felt like this?

If this is your view of motherhood, no wonder you aren’t enjoying your role! Who in their right mind would apply for the position above?! Any woman would run as fast and as far as she could to avoid a job such as this. Yet this is what our world has convinced us that motherhood entails…being everybody’s unappreciated slave, with no benefits. Have you bought into this lie? Do you think that what you do is an endless litany of chores and housework with little reward, other than to fall into bed at night exhausted and then get up and start all over tomorrow? If so, bless your heart, no wonder you’re exhausted and joyless.

So, I’d like to tell you a secret…are you ready? It’s all in how you look at it. What?? Satan has stolen from us something beautiful and replaced it with something that seems ugly and unappealing. How has he done this? By convincing us that the description above is what choosing to be a mother entails. He has taken what God meant to be a noble and holy calling, and convinced us that it is unworthy of our talents. So, how do we combat this? By embracing what our Creator intended for us as mothers and by changing our vision of motherhood. When we step back and look at our role with a different perspective (an eternal one), suddenly the picture changes. When we realize the significance of what we are doing every day (impacting little hearts for God), we also realize that the things we are doing (even the seemingly endless tasks) have an eternal result, not just a temporary one. You are not just feeding those hungry mouths every day, you are feeding their spirits, teaching them to love and honor the One who made them. You are not just clothing them with jeans and sneakers, but with spiritual armor to fight the battle for their very souls. You aren’t just preparing them for pre-school, or high school, or adulthood, but for an eternity in heaven with the Lord of the universe. You’re shaping their hearts, their worldview, and their futures. Wow…who knew peanut butter and Pull-ups had such eternal significance?

So, how about this one…would you apply for this position?

WANTED: Loving, patient mother to nurture tiny souls for the Creator of the Universe. Opportunity to impact the future of the world by raising little ones to love Him with all their hearts and souls. Involves much heavy work and tears and prayer, but the rewards are beyond all that you can imagine. You will never be alone in this task, manager available 24/7 to offer support and encouragement. Instructions provided, with impressive results from faithful application of these principles. Rewards are diverse, ranging from the sweetest hugs and kisses ever known to an eternal reward of life in my palace (with all your loved ones) upon completion of your duties. Prerequisites include a humble heart and a willing spirit…this, too, can be provided upon request. Apply now for the most amazing experience of your life.

Which job would you like to accept? It’s up to you…it’s all in how you look at it.

Marlin and Me

We just came back to our condo from our first ever “Dive-In” movie. The resort where we are staying had a special showing of “Finding Nemo” shown on a big screen at the edge of the swimming pool. The kids thought it was quite unique to float around in the pool while watching one of their favorite movies. Alan and I enjoyed lazing in the beach chairs and watching our little fish and enjoying one of our favorite movies.

I had forgotten what a great message can be found in this charming movie. I can so identify with Marlin, Nemo’s father. At the beginning of the movie, he is shown to be an overly protective, somewhat neurotic father. He is so afraid of harm coming to his little fish that he prevents Nemo from experiencing much of anything. He is constantly warning Nemo of the dangers to be found in the ocean, and telling him all the things that he can’t do. Nemo finally rebels against this suffocating parenting style, and his rebellion gets him into serious danger. The movie goes on to portray Marlin’s desperate search to save his son and the lessons they both learn during their time apart.

I remember the first day we brought Molly home from the hospital. Alan and I looked at each other with a great deal of fear and trepidation upon realizing that we, alone, were now responsible for this tiny, fragile being. All of a sudden, we were the ones charged with the task of making sure this little person had food, shelter and all the emotional and spiritual nurturing necessary to grow them into a successful adult.

I remember the first time I held my son in my arms as he suffered from a serious asthma attack and as he struggled to breathe. I was filled with terror as he gasped and coughed, feeling helpless to provide his most basic need for oxygen. Many more of these nights occurred before Noah finally began to outgrow his very serious asthma.

I remember when the pediatrician came to me in the hospital and with tears in his eyes told me that my newborn daughter had a serious hole in her heart and would probably require open heart surgery a few months down the road. I looked at her perfect, tiny body and held my hand over her chest, feeling that heart beat and wondering if it would continue.

I once heard motherhood described as living forever with a part of your heart walking around outside of your chest. The fears and anxieties we struggle with as parents can paralyze us. We can be so consumed with the “what ifs” and the frightening possibilities, that we completely miss the joy and excitement of watching our children learn new things and celebrate new experiences. There came a point for me, as a new mother, where I literally fell to my knees and surrendered. I had to let go, and give God my children. They belonged to him anyway, and I had to learn to believe that He loves them best. I had to learn to trust Him with their lives, and with their futures. As hard as it was for me to accept, He loves them even more than I do, and He loves them perfectly. Psalm 112:7 became something to cling to: “He will have no fear of bad news; his heart is steadfast, trusting in the LORD.”

Does this mean I no longer worry about all those horrible things that can happen? Unfortunately, no. Just ask my children…they will probably tell you that I constantly remind them to “lock the door” when I leave, rarely let them go to the restroom alone in a public place, and am frequently heard saying, “Be careful”. It’s an ongoing process, this letting go…and it doesn’t happen easily. But I believe that, ultimately, my children belong to God, and that He has good plans for them and that they are safe in His loving care. So, I’ll try to curb my Marlin tendencies, and give them room to grow…but I will gladly cross the ocean, just as he did, if my little fishies should need me.