Control Freak. Those words either resonate with you or they don’t. And of course there are various levels to the madness in which control can manifest in a person’s life.  It’s a sneaky little fella that’s for sure. Dressed up and disguised as just wanting to do the right thing … kind of trying to make others do it too Sometimes disguised as good goals until they feel like they are going to kill you. Other times being driven and not driving this life we live. Some people want to control their weight, for some their environment (everything being perfectly in order to feel in order), others controlling situations so others can’t hurt them. For me it was wrapped up in love … I could even put a pretty bow on it and call it passion, probably even convince you of it.

When the Lord began shining the beacon light of His truth on this little culprit at work in my heart, exposing the places it had tainted with it’s lies, he used this memory to show me something about myself and reveal His truth.

A couple weeks after I gave my life to Jesus while living with my Aunt and Uncle I got a kitten. Oh my goodness the cutest little black and white kitten I’ve ever seen. I went with my Aunt and cousins to pick a kitten out of litter of kittens born on a nearby farm. I told my Aunt I wanted a cow-cat (a cat that is black and white like a cow), she knew I needed something to love and went and found them for me. I spotted the one I wanted right away and crawled under this old tracter and pulled the little guy out by his tail. I was at a place in my life where I felt all alone and somehow that loneliness disappeared in the companionship of that adorable kitten. I loved that kitten and he loved me. I named that cute little cow-cat “Dude”. I would walk into the room and say, “What up Dude?” and he would strut his stuff right over to me. I loved that kitten so much that I would start petting him and holding him so tight that he would start yelping in high pitch sounds. I loved him so much that I would literally hurt him with all my love. I couldn’t help it, I would just squeeze his little body so tight. If I could tuck him inside me I would. I just couldn’t get him close enough to me.

A few years later while in Bible College, my boyfriend (husband to be) and I broke up after dating for a year and a half. I was devastated. It was my first real Christian relationship and I put so much pressure on it to be perfect. I would get so hurt when it wasn’t. Just like that kitten I would squeeze so tight, I loved too hard that I was actually pushing the one I loved away. I tried controlling our relationship so I wouldn’t get hurt. I served the fear of being hurt until the very thing I feared the most came upon me. When we broke up we both walked away with very little hope we would ever get back together. I was crushed, having thought I heard God and holding broken dreams of the future in my hands.

I remember laying flat on the floor in my apartment crying mascara stains into the carpet, crying out to God to heal my broken heart. He showed me my heart and it had three thorns in it. He said if I would let Him pull the thorns, they would bleed and hurt initially (we had to go back to some hurtful memories growing up) but then they would fully heal. I would face the fear head on with God and on purpose feel pain instead of devising plans and controlling people so I would never have to control situations again. One by one God and I revisited memories, dealt with pain and the fears that hindered me from giving and receiving love in freedom.  The Lord sent me to India, Argentina, and New Orleans on missions’ trips to serve Him with my whole heart and to share with others the same love I had received from Him. Six months after our break up Yuri and I got back to together and were married within six months. My husband told me how the Lord had told him the old had to die, so the new could live.  Eleven years later, I’m still thankful for the work that God did in our hearts during that time.

This year our church started off the year with a 21-day devotional called, “Let’s Go!,”  I started to read it and the Holy Spirit began speaking to my heart and His words shined like a beacon light again exposing where that little culprit of control had set up camp. He said, “For others this may be “Let’s Go!,” but for you this year is about, “Letting Go!”

We have four boys ranging from eight to three years old. I’ve home schooled the oldest two and kept all my boys really close to me, desiring with the entirety of my heart that they know and serve God their whole lives without having to experience things I went through.  So here’s this picture of me squeezing that poor little kitten again until it’s yelping for relief, except this time the Holy Spirit shows me it’s my children. The fear is that they won’t turn out to love God, they’ll make the same mistakes I made, they’ll hurt and I’ll have been the one that hurt them (that’s as real as it gets from this Mama’s heart.) I began to cry and repent asking the Lord to reveal His truth. Under all that I did well, hidden was a motivation of fear. I realized if I kept squeezing I was eventually going to produce the very thing I feared. I love that the Lord is faithful to put us right back on His track fueled with His truth when we are quick to repent.

The Holy Spirit began to talk to me about the hand posture of letting go, how it is the same open palm posture of giving, receiving, surrendering, praising, and worshiping. The hand posture of closed fists is associated with squeezing, clinching, fighting, striving …  all expressions of lack of trust. Even holding, as when I pull in one of my boys and hold them my hand runs flat across their back, we in openness give and receive love. Everything is open and nothing is closed. In my heart I wrote my children’s names on my hands and lifted them to the Lord.

I prayed, “Lord, I let go of my children and surrender them to you. I let go of trying to make them love you and know you in all my own strength. I let go of the false control I thought I had. I repent of serving fear and making it an idol in my heart making provision for it by not trusting you with them. I give them to you and receive your grace to steward these gifts that are yours. I praise you with them written on my hands in my heart worshipping You because in every way You are good! I partner with You to parent them, lead me by your wisdom for You know them better than I do. Teach me how to gain their hearts. You have always been faithful. Lord, I will trust You!” Amen!

For me it was my children, what area in your heart is the Lord shining His beacon light and exposing where control and fear have camped out? Sometimes it’s really scary to step out and trust the Lord especially because we like that feeling of “being in control.” But the truth is: if He is not in control, we were never really “in control.” Whatever it is I encourage you to let go! Shake those hands out, loosen up the grip, open up your hands and give all your pain as well as fear to the Lord and receive all the freedom he desires you to walk in.

I’ve decided to live my life hands wide open, I encourage you live like that with me!

With hands wide open and Great Love!

Quote from ~ NEMO (Disney/Pixar)

Crush: ‘Let us see what Squirt does flying solo.’

Crush: ‘The little dudes are just eggs. We leave ‘em on a beach to hatch… and then, coo-coo-cachoo, they find their way back to the big ol’ blue.’

Marlin: ‘All by themselves?’

Crush: ‘Yeah.’

Marlin: ‘But, dude, how do you know when they’re ready?’

Crush: ‘Well, you never really know. But when they know, you’ll know, you know?’

There was a time in my life when I felt invincible and fearless. I really didn’t have anything to worry about. I didn’t feel vulnerable. But that changed the day I learned I was going to be a mother for the first time and suddenly a new battle started in my mind. I became vulnerable with the fear of all the possibilities of horrible things that could happen to my children.

It started with the fear of miscarrying in the first trimester. As the weeks turned into months I found myself wondering at every ache and pain I felt in my pregnant body. I worried if I didn’t feel the baby move enough. I would diagnose myself after googling each symptom or reading “What to expect when expecting”. To my shame, I turned to this first rather than remaining steadfast and unshaken in my faith.

When the baby arrived she was beautiful, healthy and perfect but I found new things to worry about. When she was sleeping, I found myself checking on her numerous times to make sure she was still breathing and that she wasn’t smothered in a blanket. Sometimes she was so still and quiet that I would gently shake her just so I could hear a little murmur from her lips to assure me that she was still breathing.

She grew perfectly but, unfortunately, the list of hazards grew with her. There were things to choke on. Stairs to fall down. Water to drown in. Reckless drivers to crash into us. I would hear a story about a baby choking on a piece of balloon or a child choking on popcorn in the movies and then those things became hazards too. There were child predators and devastating stories on the news. Really, the list of things that could happen was endless!

The strong maternal instinct to protect my children at all costs is natural and God-given. They are my greatest gifts from the Lord and I love my children more than anything else on this earth. The fear of something bad happening to them is, without a doubt, my absolute worst fear and while this fear helps serve me to protect my children I do not want to serve it as I sometimes have. I do not want to be in bondage to this fear that Satan could use as a tool in my life.

One day a friend asked me a simple question that set me on the path to learning how to win each battle with fear in my mind & finding freedom. When my now 8 year old was a toddler and I wasn’t paying attention she wondered out of our church into the parking lot, which is next to a busy street. My heart almost stopped with fear and I panicked when I ran out in to the parking lot and didn’t immediately see her. After I had found her safe and sound, my friend came up to me and said,

“You know that God loves her more than you love her, right?”

Well, of course I knew that! … Didn’t I?

I did know that but the significance of what that really meant hadn’t been real to me before that time.

I wont say that I have fully mastered this battle because often times I feel that old familiar fear trying to sneak in to my mind and heart and the battle starts again. But I will say that while I am diligent to do all I can physically to protect my children, mentally I am now quicker to take those thoughts captive and release them to God rather than letting them have precedence in my mind. Instead, I focus on God’s promises, renewing my mind, which, in turn, brings God’s peace and freedom to my spirit. Completely trusting Him is the solution to all my fear.

My daughter came running in the back door: “Mom! Dad!” Next came my 12-year-old son, who was holding his nose and yelling in pain. Then there was blood in his hands, on the sidewalk, everywhere. As I ran to grab a towel and ice, my husband prepared to perform an old wrestler’s trick of popping the nose back in place. One look convinced my husband that this was beyond the wrestling coach fix: in less than 3 minutes, my son’s nose had swelled to look like that of an Orc from Lord of the Rings.

Quickly we hopped into the car to drive down the mountain to the emergency room. Mark drove fast while I monitored the blood towel and my son’s pupils. I’m not sure why I watched his pupils, but it made me feel useful. Mostly I prayed in half sentences.

Once in the ER, we did the normal routine of intake questionnaires and anxious waiting. Fortunately a head injury with lots of blood put us at the front of the line. The nurses, technicians and doctors took good care of John through the whole process of more questions, exams, x-rays, etc. The doctor brought us the good news that although John’s nose was broken, he saw no sign of injury to the brain. We also learned that surgery would probably be needed in a week or two, after the swelling had gone down.

For the first time in hours I could breathe again. As relief flooded over us and we waited for paperwork to be processed, my husband asked John to explain again what had happened…

John was in the side yard after saying goodbye to one of his skateboarding buddies. He looked down and saw a piece of wood, a shovel, and a basketball. Years of playing with Legos and K’nex had prepared him for that moment, and he had the idea to make a catapult. By balancing the shovel on the wood and then placing the basketball on the handle of the shovel and stepping on the other end, he was able to launch the basketball into the air. Stomping on the shovel shot the basketball above his head. Running and jumping onto the end of the shovel catapulted the ball above the rooftop. Then my common sense son decided that (and I quote) “it would be more exciting” if he tried it with a rock instead of a basketball. While the rock did make this physics experiment more exciting, it didn’t turn out so well for John’s nose.

At that point in John’s retelling of the story, Mark and I laughed until we cried. I’m sure it was an outlet for our stress, but as we were falling out of our chairs laughing, the doctor walked into the room. He looked at John, then at Mark and I, then at John again. I wonder what went through the doctor’s mind as he considered the facts of the rock launching next to seeing two parents incapacitated by laughter in the ER.

The irony of this story is that John had been skateboarding all afternoon with his friends. No one had complained of a single bruise from skateboarding. One of the moms in the group had been worried that the boys might get hurt on their home-made skate park. I confidently replied that boys need to have a little risk, and also that I didn’t worry about John too much because he usually displayed a good amount of common sense.

Famous last words. Although John had a temporary lapse in common sense, I still say that boys need to have a little risk. (Yes, girls too, but in this post I want to talk about boys.) Boys need to experience danger once in awhile, push the limits of their physical strength, and find out what they are made of. It is part of their maleness, and it is how God made them. Boys eventually grow into men, and the world needs strong men. Strong men don’t grow out of boys who are over-protected, always safe and restrained from every risk.

Now comes the disclaimer that I don’t really know how guys think. In my femaleness, I can’t fully understand the male psyche. But as a mother I am interested in knowing how I can do my part to help my son grow into a strong man. My husband plays the bigger role in this by showing John how to be a man and calling him to manhood. But I play a role as well, and I want to play that role well.

When John was little, I constantly protected him from risk. I taught him not to run into the street. I made sure he knew to wear a seat belt in the car and a helmet when on his bike. I was selective about who babysat him and the influences that shaped his thinking. That level of protection was appropriate for that stage in his life.

As John grew, I had to learn how to back off, especially in the adolescent years. This did not come naturally to me: my instinct was to hover and to protect my “baby”. My husband, along with John Eldredge’s book Wild at Heart and lots of prayer, helped me to learn how to make room for John to grow up. This “backing off” was a process: I didn’t release him to run with the wolves as soon as he turned twelve, and I didn’t immediately know how to handle each situation. Sometimes Mark would pull me aside and explain to me how guys think and that I needed to give John more space. Sometimes I was too controlling and didn’t let go. I’m so thankful that with God’s grace, perfection isn’t required! And by God’s grace, I did learn to let go, not only in the area of physical risk, but in releasing John to make his own decisions in every area of his life. Interestingly, the more I have let go, the more I have prayed for him.

Now to close the loop on the broken nose story. John did have surgery, from which he emerged with a non-Orclike nose that still looks normal today. John has grown into a confident, strong young man. He has moved on to long boarding down mountain roads and jumping off 50-foot cliffs into the water. Yes, I still pray for God to protect John. And yes, he wears his helmet, just like I taught him!

I’m not sure when my life became such a synchronized and measurable masterpiece of events, but as I prepare to share with you, I want everyone to know that my favorite color became pink AFTER I was informed that my first child was going to be a girl, and before I knew that I was going to need a cape.  Before I was married with three kids, my favorite color was black and my multi-tasking skills were virtually untapped.  How could I have known that my first child’s gender would permanently change my color of choice, and that a cape was only meant to enhance my much-needed skills that were dormant in 1999?

Fast-forward 10 years. As I was sitting peacefully one day planning and plotting my upcoming week, it occurred to me that a crazy yet recognizable rhythm had become my theme song.  I run a 9-minute mile, I prepare 30-minute meals, my kids are ages 5-7-9, I plan my days in 3-hour increments, and I still love 80’s music.  I am impressed daily by the wisdom of a child, frightened nightly by the headline news, moved to tears weekly by amazing worship, available always to any friend in need, motivated daily to eat right and exercise, and driven almost hourly to seek approval or direction from my Father in heaven.  The rhythm seems almost too fast to sing along to but not fast enough for the pace of my life.  That’s why I have a cape.  Not just any cape, but a faster than a speeding bullet-stronger than the strongest man-more powerful than any kryptonite-kind of pink cape with blinking lights and sparkles. It’s made from a silky fabric that breathes because it never comes off, so it must be comfortable!  Yes, that’s right, I’m your neighborhood super-mom-wife-friend-daughter-sister-innovator-motivator-coach-driver-stylist-you name it!  But there’s only one small problem with the beautiful cape and the rhythm it goes with: batteries are not included!

Oh the horror!  First, nobody told me that I was even going to need a cape until I was 3 children into it, and then nobody told me that once I figured out the cape trick that it did NOT come with batteries!  The reason this has come as a sudden shock to me is simple; my batteries ran out and all of a sudden I could no longer act like the superhero I had decided to impersonate.  It didn’t happen all at once, but slowly my battery pack began to drain.

It began with a deep wound to my heart from someone I had considered to be a close friend.  Her words and actions (which have almost all been forgotten now) took a jab at my cape. Then there was my son’s disappointment when I had tried to fit too much into my day and he was late-and embarrassed at his football practice.  Bam!  His sad face hit me right in the sparkly section of my cape.  Factor in the night I went to my part-time job at Starbucks, and my fellow barista mentioned that I looked tired and was seemingly not on my game that night.  Ouch!  I felt a tight pinch right around the part where my cape fastens on my neck.  And then, the last blow–a fever, headache, congestion, a husband with a very disapproving glance and a diagnosis of a severe sinus infection–game over, batteries done.

It would be easy to blame the manufacturer of the cape or assume the batteries were faulty, but in this case, I had to accept full responsibility: owner abuse.  In my excitement of discovering the cape and the distraction of its beautiful pink color and blinking lights, I forgot to completely read the instruction manual.  You see, even superheroes have a secret identity.  They can’t be super all of the time, and they are human.  Superheroes have feelings that the cape was not designed to hide.  For some strange reason I thought I was the one that could defy the odds and set a new and higher standard for all wanna-be supergirls while keeping my health and emotions completely in check.  There was only one small teensy little problem with my precocious little plan: I thought the cape was designed to help shield me from impulse decisions, offensive words and poor time-management.  Oops.

The cape is really only supposed to be used in extreme emergencies, not on a daily basis, and definitely not 24 hours a day!  I’m supposed to discern when to say no, how to set realistic goals, plan travel times and pick-ups accordingly, and definitely not agree to so many social engagements and work commitments that I end up canceling all of them to nurse a self-induced-fever-enhanced-exhausting sinus infection.  I’m also allowed to have my feelings hurt and talk it out while eating bad-for-you food.  The cape is not supposed to act like my primary shield of defense where nothing can penetrate its super nylon layer.

The supergirl cape is supposed to be used during times that I have no control or input, like on any given Saturday when we have a football game, a soccer game, a best-friend’s birthday party and a 5 am opening shift at Starbucks.  These are all scheduled events that are important to someone and not necessarily controlled by me.  This is when the beautiful cape is unveiled, allowing for super strength to get up early and work fast and furious making lattes, then leaping over cars to be the proudest mom on the sidelines at a rainy football game, then quickly flying over to another location to cheer for a little 4-year old who is looking for his mom to see his “superkick”, then gently picking up a precious little girl with her best friend’s gift in hand and delivering her to the perfect party destination.  Aaaaaaaahhhhh.  The cape saves the day again.  Here is the lesson for all of us who have a secret identity and cape somewhere within our grasp: the cape gets PUT AWAY until the next time events out of our control are scheduled, not when we plan our life that way and get caught up in a rhythm we cannot maintain.  God definitely had a plan when He created us without a cape actually attached.

Finally, the key to having batteries that never run out is to buy the kind that are re-chargeable.  Of course, to the seasoned cape-wearer this is not new information.  But for someone like me, who just learned the hard way the benefits and pitfalls of the supergirl cape, this information is vital.  The batteries on the cape will just naturally re-charge themselves when used appropriately and not excessively.  The rest of my life is up to me and the choices I make: friendships I accept and invitations I decline, travel time I plan for and negative situations I avoid.  As for the cape, it’s still within my reach and still my favorite color pink, but I haven’t had to use it too much lately.  I’ll have to remind myself to review the owner’s manual soon though because the holiday season is just around the corner and if I’m not careful, I may forget to buy the right batteries!

“…but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40:31

I was chatting with some moms the other day listening to their stories about the challenges they were having with their husbands and kids, when all of a sudden the thought struck me – I HAVE THE PERFECT FAMILY!  Now you may be thinking, “she is awfully bold in making such a statement,” but hear me out on this one – If you came to my home and passed by my daughters cluttered room, saw the dirty dishes in the sink and heard the 4 year old pitching a fit from the back room you might wonder about my idea of perfect. After all isn’t perfect without flaw, faultless?  Not in my house it isn’t, perfect around here is the process and the people God is using to help us to look, act and think more like He does.  Romans 12:1-2 says,  “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.” The perfect will of God, well my family is the perfect will of God for me and my life.

For example – when one of my daughters was two there was something in my heart that began to react in anger to the circumstances and situations around me and I could see the reflection of this anger in her heart as well.   I finally came to the conclusion that I could not penetrate her heart without first dealing with my own. God used this most amazing two-year-old to help me confront my anger, deal with it, leave it at the feet of Jesus and learn to walk in healing and forgiveness.  It took time, prayer, petition and great humility for me to realize that the problem was in me – I was the one with an anger issue and she was my little mirror. Walking out the next 4 years was challenging and humbling but by the time she had turned 6 both our lives were free from the stronghold of anger and a grace and delight encompassed our relationship with each other.  I tell people, “Of all the people I know she gives me more grace than others because we both had to learn to receive God’s grace to overcome the anger in our hearts.”

When my daughters approached adolescence the fear that their lives would look like mine during those formative years began to grip my heart.  My parents divorced when I turned 12 and I remember the loneliness, the emptiness, the feeling of having no place where I belonged and the road those feelings led to when I left for college.  I was fearful their lives would be a reflection of my wrong choices and I wanted so desperately to keep them from the heartache and grief I had experienced.  As we began to walk the road to adulthood God gave me a new picture of His plan for their lives and the sense of well-being that each of them would gain their confidence from their identity in Him and that it would shape the person they were becoming.  God took my broken years and past and through prayer and hard work he made something new and wonderful for my daughters – it became clear to me that not only was he giving them a future and a hope he was also giving me a new future and a hope in my own life as well.

Now the men in my life, they don’t think like me, act like me or smell like me and because of that they are constantly challenging me to get out of my box and live life to the fullest.  My husband is the perfect man for me – God knew I would need a man to pray for me to be seasoned in the Lord, a man who would not try to fix me but would allow God to do the fixing and a man who never let a day be boring – no we are on the ride of our life a daily walk in trusting the One who brought us together.

One of my son’s has taught me to laugh at myself, helping me to get over myself and to let joy enter my heart and life. He is a quality time child and to sit and play with him brings him great delight, I am an acts of service kind of girl and so learning to speak his love language has made me die to myself and many of my “idealistic” expectations about priorities and the stack of dirty dishes in the sink – you see perfect to me means the dishes would never be there, but love to him says “forget the dishes for a minute and let’s play a game”. I have to set aside my list of to dos and love him today while I still have today with him.

Another son helps me to stop and smell the roses; his laid back personality reminds me that all of life is not a race and that sometimes taking a few extra minutes to enjoy the journey is as important as getting to my destination.  My third son challenges me in every way – he wants to be big and then suddenly he wants to be little (big if his older siblings are getting to do something without him, little if he has to unload the dishwasher by himself) But don’t I do the same thing with God, “God today I am big and I can conquer the world, oh but that hurt so now I am little and need You to come help me pick up the mess I just made.”

Like I said, I have the perfect family, a perfect mess and perfect for me.  Perfectly able to be used by God to shape me into becoming the person he wants for me to be – perfectly able to help me die to myself and learn to love outside my abilities and let Him love through me, and you know what?  I am the perfect wife for my husband and the perfect mom for each of my kids as well, the one He called to instill into them some of my strengths, to help them with recognizing our weaknesses and letting Him be strong in us and the perfect wife and mom to love, pray and walk with them on this journey called Life. I bet you have the perfect family and you are the perfect one for them as well.

Tomi fell in love at the age of 21 with her Savior and has followed her Lord Jesus Christ since that time. She is a native Texan who currently lives in North Richland Hills with her husband, Darrell. They have been married for 171/2 years and together they have five children – ages sixteen, thirteen, ten, six & four years old. Tomi enjoys writing, teaching, reading, date night with hubby and the occasional night off to laugh with other women about the ups and downs of life and the goodness of God.

Read more from Tomi at:

http://redroseinbloom.wordpress.com

There is really not a time when I am more impressed by the faith of a child than when one of my own shows me how easy it is to have faith.  I mean, I am the mom, the parent, the one that has been around for so much longer living this Christ-like faith for my children.  I was born-again in the “Word of Faith” movement.  I have the measure of faith, the faith of a mustard seed, enough to move mountains, to cast down imaginations, and break down walls.  I am faith personified.  That’s what I would like to say but the reality is much different, as I recently discovered.  That is why it is both extremely humbling and exciting for me to write about how much my children have actually gleaned and how far I have to go to see how they see. To believe without seeing the way they do.

This is how it came to pass this time around. It was our fourth day at the lake in Michigan. My kids were excited about “vacation” at the cottage, but also a little sad because we had arrived to rain and the water was … (Well, let’s just say that polar bears and penguins came to mind!)  When the wind would stop and the clouds would roll away, the water temperature was not as noticeable.  I reminded the kids that it would only take a couple of consecutive days of sun for the water to warm up to what they were used to every summer.  So, an unseasonably cool summer in Michigan was resulting in shorter days on the beach and much more intense prayer at night.

As is our custom, at night we would all pile into one room with trundle beds, blankets, pillows, and open windows to hear the waves crashing.  Everyone has a turn to pray and thank God for a fun day, or extra gooey s’mores, waves for boogie boarding, or for a safe trip for visiting family.  Nothing is off limits when anyone prays in our little world.  On this specific night though, the weather and water temperature were the focus of all three of our kids’ prayers; If only the sun could come out instead of the clouds, if only the water could be warm like at the “Sea World Hotel”, if only God could make it so there would be no more rain and so on.  And then the final words from the littlest voice in the room—our 4 year old, whom we call “pastor” because of his tendency to always pray.  He simply said, “God, if you could just take all of these prayers and put them all together everything will be just right tomorrow.  Amen and Amen”.  That was it- that was all he had to say.  Everyone turned over and soon enough there was nothing to hear but the waves on the shore just 50 feet away.

Except for me.  I couldn’t sleep.  I just kept repeating his prayer over and over in my mind so that I would never forget it.  “God, if You could just take all of these prayers and put them all together, everything will be just right”.  I knew that it sounded crazy, but I wanted so much to believe that what my youngest had prayed with such conviction could happen.  But how?  Well, I reasoned there could be a storm at night that would cause the tide to turn and bring the warmer water to the shore (I obviously know nothing about meteorology or living by one of the Great Lakes).  Or better yet, it would be so warm at night and in the morning that by the time the kids hit the water the next day it would be warm.  Or how about, all over the news, an unexplained force of “Mother Nature” had struck the thumb of Michigan and the water had suddenly warmed to never-before recorded warm temperatures (I know, dramatic)!  And then it hit me- my youngest had faith.  Faith enough to believe that all he had to do was sum it up for the Lord and it could be.  Just that simple.

That is after all, the basis of faith, what my husband and I have been working to instill in all of our kids since they could barely speak. That was the cry of our heart- that they would believe that God can do anything and if they’d ask according to His will, it could be done.  I was just surprised by my own doubt and that my youngest had actually believed what we said to be true. That night it hit me- he was faith personified.

I had almost become a statistic!  The one who says, “Well that’s really great when you first believe, but then just live a little while and see what happens.  Life gets harder and it’s not so easy … to believe”.  I spent the next few hours that night reasoning out how God could make the water warm for my little ones, almost begging God to show them how it could happen because they prayed and HE had time to hear them.  But really I was the one that needed a refresher course in faith.  I was really asking God to do His thing so that my faith could be restored.  In my mind I was thinking, when was the last time He actually parted the Red Sea?  Or physically moved a mountain?  In our ten years of marriage and training of our three kids, I could recall that there had definitely been some opportunities for mountain moving!

But then I realized, I guess that’s how I got here anyway … isn’t it?  In a time when divorce rate is at its highest and the definition of marriage is being challenged, I am more committed and in love with my husband than ever.  In a world where children are being bought and sold as slaves, mine are oblivious to anything but a life of goodness and mercy.  In a season in my life when I thought God had removed me forever from having a voice that mattered, He has opened up doors for me to speak of His love and goodness in my life.  He has been parting seas and moving mountains, just not the kind my literal mind had envisioned.

Our 2-week vacation at the cottage in Michigan came to an end all too soon.  There was rain and there was sun; there was cold water and then there was warm water.  For one day. But there was a still little voice that said, “God, just do what You do- Amen and Amen.” and my faith was restored and renewed.

I now find myself praying at the end of my sometimes long and tedious days:
“God, just take all of the prayers that I have prayed today, put them all together and do what You do- just make it ALL right.  Amen and Amen.”

I’m sending my daughter off to college in a few days. I always knew this day would come, but I still feel so unprepared for it. How can a heart be so happy and so sad at the very same time? There’s just not enough room to contain that much emotion!
I’m so happy that her feet are pointed in the right direction. She has a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I can see that she loves Him with sincerity in how she lives her life. Because of this love, she wants to do something significant with her life, to make a difference in the world. Life will test and retest this faith of hers, and like all of us, she will have to fight to remain standing. I’m so happy that her feet are pointed in the right direction.
I’m sad that it’s time to let her find her own path. We are headed in the same direction, and we will still be close, but I must let go of the baton. I must urge her to run her race on the path God has set before her. I didn’t expect it to be this hard to let go. I’m sad because I will miss seeing her every day.
I’m happy that we share so many sweet memories. The first time I held her. (OK, she doesn’t consciously remember that, but it is stored in a back corner of her brain.) The time she won the all-school kindergarten ice cream eating contest. Her teddy bear that her brother used to torture. Her favorite teacher who took her from struggling in school to straight A’s. Soccer games, sleepovers, craft projects, camping trips, Bible verse memory, cooking and baking together, skiing, Driver’s Ed and proms. I’m happy that I’ve had the privilege of walking beside her.
I’m sad that she doesn’t need me as much as she used to. The irony of this is that for 18 years I’ve been training her, preparing her for independence. It’s also ironic that there have been times when I was overwhelmed by the constant needs of a growing family, and now I wish I was needed more. I’m sad because time doesn’t stand still and life doesn’t fit into the neat little box that I so often want to stuff it into.
I’m happy that she is smart and healthy. That her future is bright. That opportunities abound for her. That she has what it takes to pursue her dreams. That she has a wealth of friendships. I’m happy that she is ready to try her wings.
It’s funny that my sadness comes from my insecurities as a parent, and my happiness from the celebration of her life. There are other insecurities I could ponder, but when the final box is delivered to her dorm room, and we pause for that goodbye hug, I will be celebrating. Though my role and relationship with her are changing, God is not finished with shaping this young masterpiece. I trust Him to finish what He started. I am waiting expectantly to see what He does next.

“There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.” Philippians 1:6 The Message

“For you created my (daughter’s) inmost being; you knit her together in my womb. I praise you because she is fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Psalm 139:13-14 NIV (bold print is my paraphrase)

I hear the baby stirring. It’s early and dawn is fast approaching. Groggy with sleep, I stumble out of bed to go and get him. I change him and then I bring him back to my bed to nurse him. We lie there quietly for an hour or so before my older two wake up. They are raring to go and ready to celebrate the wonder of a brand new day. I often wonder how they are so full of energy as soon as they wake up. I can’t remember ever being that way.

Thus, my day begins …

There are beds to be made. There are meals and snacks to prepare throughout the day. There’s always laundry and the folding and putting away of laundry. That and the picking up of all sorts of things … a sock here, a transformer there … never seem to end. There are bathrooms to be cleaned and floors to be swept, mopped and vacuumed. There’s always dusting. There are pets to be looked after … a kitty’s litter box and a bird’s cage to clean and a dog to pick up after and to take on walks. There are bills to be paid. There’s ballet, swim, tennis and T-ball lessons to go to. There’s my baby to nurse and I use these times in my day to sit and relax. There’s homeschooling to be done. That, in itself, is a full time job. There are playgrounds to take the children to, play dates to go to and grocery shopping to be done. There are dirty but cute little bodies to wash at the end of each day. Rooms to be picked up. Children to read to. There are needs to anticipate before they even arise. All of this takes a lot of planning. Personally, I can’t seem to rest until things are in order and everything is running efficiently.

There’s my children to love, nurture and create a loving, safe, secure and fun environment for. There’s children to train ~ another full time job. Training them is indeed a verb ~ a very active, time-consuming, heart and mind absorbing verb! To train means to develop or form the habits, thoughts, or behavior of (a child or other person) by discipline and instruction. Training a child is a work all in itself. There are hearts to be shepherded. There are manners to be taught and hygiene habits to be learned. The list goes on and it is no easy feat. It is not a simple and quick job for the lazy but a job that takes a life-time of intense dedication.

What I am describing is nothing new under the sun. I am not alone in this experience. This is simply the life of a mother. It is the most fulfilling job yet the most challenging. It brings so much joy and pride on one hand while bringing self-doubt and frustration on the other.

Sometimes I find myself getting flustered and frustrated with all that needs to be done in not enough hours in the day. One moment serving my family fills my heart to the capacity with joy. It is my greatest honor to love them and serve them to the best of my ability. But the next moment … well … let’s just say I don’t always do a good job in the attitude department of multi-tasking as a mother. Actually it’s more often than not that I get frustrated and lose my peace that I savor and try to maintain at all costs. Sometimes I really mess up. When this happens I tend to beat myself up pretty good. I think it’s much easier to forgive others than it is to forgive ourselves. I want to be the perfect Proverbs 31 wife and mom but many times I get caught up trying to do everything without His help and, really, I cannot do a thing successfully apart from Him. I cannot do it without His love, His guidance, His wisdom, His peace, His forgiveness & His wonderful, wonderful grace that I don’t know if I’ll ever fully comprehend. I need Him like I need the air I breathe if I am to be the type of mommy I envision for myself.

When I am struggling with the feelings of self-doubt at the daunting task ahead of us of raising our children successfully or feelings of failure when I mess up I decide to make a conscious effort to go against my feelings and to let go of the fight with myself even though I feel like I thoroughly deserve the mental beating. I decide to just let go and rest in Him. Trust Him. I decide to receive His grace ~ His unmerited favor that I certainly do not deserve.

I remind myself to stop the frustration rising in me when I start to feel overwhelmed with the busyness of life. I think upon the scripture to do all I can to live a peaceful life. I remind myself to absorb the moment, to be absolutely present and really listen to the heart of those precious people in my life. I remind myself what life is about and that my children will not necessarily remember a spotless, dust-free home but they will remember a home filled with love, kindness and peace. I don’t want to be like Martha in the Bible who was so busy she missed out on what was really happening in people’s hearts. I want to be like Mary who absorbed the moment and put her relationships first.

I don’t want the sometimes mundane routine of running a home to capture my mind causing me to miss out on being whole heartedly loving and present to the people that God’s placed in my life.

I will be leaving a legacy. Hopefully it is a legacy similar to Mary’s.

I rolled over … again … into the waves of my warm sheets ignoring the obnoxious intervals of beeps that were announcing a new day. My mind began rolling (like every other day), organizing all the madness that was waiting for my eyelids to open into what I would like to call a neatly organized to-do list. Of course being a Mom to four, I had allotted myself at least two forgotten to-do’s. Hopefully none of them would be as embarrassing as the time I forgot to put a diaper on my two-week old infant when I took him to meet some friends for the first time. There he was cute as a button dressed in his best clothes sitting in his infant car seat bathing in a puddle of pee. Wow, here meet my fourth son. I’m convinced that this kind of memory loss is just one of the side effects of motherhood that are hidden in the very fine print of the job description somewhere next to episodes of sleep deprivation. So for all those forgotten to-do’s, I gave myself grace and added them to the roll over list … again. I sensed the very familiar presence of a little person looming over me; I crack an eye-lid to see my four-year staring at me two inches away from my face. How none of my children have ever found this kind of behavior to be creepy I’ll never know. He’ll utter the phrase that I have become all to accustom to, “Mama, I’m hungry!” and like that the to-do list of the day had been activated. Hesitantly I sat up and stared down at my feet to be greeted by ten little piggies wearing last months pedicure and wearing it badly I might add. A Mental note was taken: add to reminder list … when getting dressed (hopefully before noon) wear closed toed shoes.

But priorities first … a caffeine intervention is always number one on my list … this mama needed a latte’ before she takes on a day full of “…again” moments! I scurried to the kitchen to find the company of my favorite mug while the smell of perking espresso and the anticipation of a fabulous latte’ began to brighten the morning! I began down this trail of thought before I realized my thoughts turned into a dialogue with the living God. I pondered with words “Lord even in the redundant routine of waking up tired to a mile-high to-do list and the hungry eyeballs of my toddler … again … I know one of these days is better than a thousand so-called good days without You, because I know who I was before I met you!”

You see, I knew that Mama, rolling out of bed to take on another day of being wife, mother, and friend. I knew her back when she was just a nineteen-year-old hurting girl addicted to drugs that had nothing but broken relationships stacked up against her. I remember the day when she had a life intervention that resulted in a love affair with her maker. That girl who became this Mama is my story (the only one I own). Like a super-hero Jesus reached down into my pit and rescued me from myself. No cape or super suit. No plastic six-pack or trademarked mask: Just the supernatural super powers of His love that shook me to the core. Everyday that I walked out of darkness, I began stepping into destiny … everyday felt normal but everyday was a miracle as my heart was being changed from a cold hopeless state to a place where dreams come alive. My first dream was to be married to a man I truly loved and to him be a good wife. My second dream was to have children and to them be a good Mom. Little did I know that there was no handbook for what “good” would look like. And from this place my relationship with Jesus as merely my Super-hero evolved into a friendship built on my desperate need for direction, guidance, and a whole lot of grace.

First marriage rocked my world; really by showing me how selfish I was when the love anesthesia wore off. In the process of loving this man in front of me my friendship with Jesus upgraded to BFF status as He helped me see my husband’s weaknesses but only praise his strengths … when all I really wanted to do was scream. These were the hard lessons of learning I couldn’t change him because I couldn’t get inside him and make him understand me. But, I had this best friend (Jesus) that when I kept my mouth shut and prayed had this uncanny ability to change me and the more I changed I saw my husband change. And this lesson that has taken permanent residence in my heart is one that continues to challenge and change me.

Second I had those babies I dreamt about and wanted more than anything. After baby number one I realized there was so much they didn’t tell me and for good reason. But obviously the sleepless nights, hormonal madness, and extra sixty pounds didn’t stop me from having three more. But there he was … my faithful BFF Jesus holding out his hand. It was His hand that often strengthened me and held me when I felt overwhelmed and exhausted from lack of sleep and the pressures of always being needed. I will occasionally hold their little faces in my hands and dream of the destiny the Lord has for them. Imagining the roads this life will take them down and I find myself blessed at the opportunity of having front row seats in their audience as their stories unfold.

You see there have been MANY days I have questioned if I was a “good” wife … if I was a “good” mother, wondering if my “good” was “good” enough. Through these times of questioning and uncertainty what had been holding hands with Jesus quickly turned into a death grip. Truly because I was holding on for dear life needing His life in me to be real and not just a song I sang at church. I needed to know He was with me. I needed to know that because He was good and lived in me … I could be good. I was in a particular situation; really a season of trying to train a child who’s strong will felt stronger than mine. At times it was like the UFC version of train up a child in the way he should go and well … we’ll see. I was crying out to God asking what does being a “good Mom” to him look like anyway? I was in a room full of woman at church at a special session put on by our church’s freedom ministry department … when the speaker asked us to close our eyes and listen to Holy Spirit speak to us. I took this opportunity to lift this situation that weighed heavy on my heart up to the Lord. He spoke, “I trust you.” “Wait, What?” I replied and continued asking as tears began to stream down my face, “How do you trust me? You’re the God … I’m the people, remember … I trust You!” He began to expound, “ You see I’ve got one hand with you where you are in the present and one hand with you over here in the future … you see we’ve got this Ris … you overcome! I can trust you because I see what you can’t see … I see the outcome! There is nothing we can’t do together.” Wow, it all came to together in one moment, even though I’ve had to travel this road in intervals of 24/7, He transcends time to be with me at all places at once. He was with me when we first met drawing me toward today and today He is with me drawing me toward a tomorrow where He already is. He was and is completely with me in all places as He is with you. Today you could have started your day similar to mine with a series of “…again moments” of being a wife and mother with a million things on your plate but also some situations weighting heavy on your heart. You may be single or married without children but that doesn’t mean that life cuts you any slack and there aren’t places in your heart that aren’t desperate for Him. My encouragement is that we serve a super-hero that will fight all odds to rescue you and show you His love. He transcends all time (He knows where you’ve been and where your going), He is drawing you toward your destiny. He is the ultimate BFF who always has your best interests at hand and can be trusted with the deepest places of your heart. He died on the cross to save the world … He is more than capable of saving us in the many ways we need to be saved daily… again. So as we trust Him together let’s crawl up in the mighty hands of the one I like to call: My time traveling Super-Hero BFF who saved the world … and that’s for short.