Ordinary

I am not super woman.  I am an ordinary woman who just happened to have five children in a very short period of time.  This feat was made possible by having four babies at once. (My husband and I believe in efficiency...)  I am amazed at the reactions I get when people find out about our family.  I hear things like, 'you must be a saint' or 'God knew who to give them to' or 'you must be mother of the year'.   It makes me smile and think, if only you realy knew me.  God did not choose me to have these children because I possess some great mothering gene.  He did not choose me because I had such great patience or capacity to love.  He chose me because He is God and He gets to decide such things.  His choosing had nothing to do with me, but everything to do with Him.

So often when God calls us to something we look at who we are; our gifts, our talents, our abilities, our life situations, our temperment.  Based on what we see, we determine whether or not we should pursue our calling. We look to see if we are up to the task.  We are looking at it from the wrong side.  It is not about who we are, but who God is.  None of us are fully prepared for what life throws our way.  But God knows us intimately and wants to show Himself through each of us if we will let Him; if we will trust Him.

I did not know how I was going to handle five kids.  I was not prepared, but God was.  He provided over one hundred people who helped us the first year.  He brought other moms in my life to teach me, encourage me, and support me.  He gave me Himself in such wonderful ways that brought peace, wisdom, and strength.  He will do the same for you.  He is an equal opportunity God.  He loves to take ordinary women and have them do extraordinary things. 

Ruts

Ruts can be frustrating.  I have a friend who experienced a rut in Africa.  She and several others had gone there for a mission trip.  Apparently, their vehicle got stuck in a mud rut.  The rut made it impossible to get back on the road.  It was taking them where they did not want to go.  She said that the driver then had to back up to where they were on solid ground; they had to return to the last time they were on the right path.  From there, they could follow the road and avoid the rut.  By doing this they were able to make it to their destination.

I have found myself in a relational rut lately.  Somewhere, I began to vear off the path. It was minor at first, but now, I find myself in a place I do not want to be.  There is distance and distrust.  There is hurt and anger.  This is not how it was supposed to be.  I find myself hiding my heart when I should be sharing it.  I find myself silent when I should be sharing my thoughts.  I find myself guarded when I should be transparent.  I do not like where this path is taking me, but I can't seem to turn around.  I need to back up to where I was on solid ground.  I need to back up to the path before I got caught in the rut.  And where was that?  Before I let the root of bitterness take hold.  Just to type that sentence makes me sad and sick.  I know the verses that talk of not letting the root of bitterness take hold.  The verses that talk of forgiveness, and not sinning in your anger.  Yet I did not do what I was told to do.  I held on to hurt, then anger, then bitterness.  In doing so I have created a rut that has taken me off course.  It has damaged a relationship.

So now I am backing up.  Along the way, I am asking God to help me as I choose to forgive; as I choose to let go of the hurt.  Backing up is rather uncomfortable.  It's an admission of having gone the wrong way.  I don't like that.  It's having to retrace some ground that was painful the first time around.  Although, this time I do it with God's grace and mercy.  I am making my way back to the right path.  My hope is that as I do, there can be restoration.  In the end, the relationship may not be what I want it to be.  That may not be possible.  But, I will be walking the path that God has called me to walk and hopefully, I will be doing it in a way that brings Him praise. 

Trash

I saw them as I walked through the bathroom my daughters share.  They were on the floor.  They were supposed to be in the trash can.  Instead, they were surrounding it.  The sight of them made me want to scream. (Actually, I did scream.)  Pad wrappers....  I didn't understand.  How could they use the bathroom and not see them?  How could they just walk by them and not pick them up?  Was their vision impaired?  Were they saving them for some purpose for which I was unaware?  I'd like to say that I remained calm and politely asked my daughters for an explanation.  But that is not what happened.  Instead, I said something sarcastic about missing the trash can and then began lecturing them about cleaning up after themselves.  By the time I was done, all three were visibly upset.  (So was my daughter's friend who was spending the night.  Thankfully, she spends enough time at our house to know that I'm not always this crazy!)  In trying to explain why the wrappers were left, my daughter told me that 'you get used to your own trash'. 

You get used to your own trash.

I've noticed that trend in my own life before.  Usually, it's a particular sin or bad habit that I become immune to.  I may notice it at first, but I tell myself that I can handle it; it won't be a problem.  Time passes and I get used to seeing it.  I may not like it, but it becomes a part of the landscape of my life.  Then comes the time when I don't even notice it anymore.  It has been fully integrated.  I should have dealt with it swiftly, but I put it off.  I told myself it's not that bad; I'll deal with it later.  Later doesn't come.  And the trash pile continues to grow until someone or something brings it back to my attention. 

Thankfully, I have a family and some good friends who are willing to point out some of my trash piles.  They do it because I have asked them to.  And I know when they point something out, they do so in love and with prayer.  I don't always like having my trash exposed.  It's hard.  It's uncomfortable.  It makes me sad and a little embarrassed.  But I'm not alone.  Because those same people stand by me and walk with me as I begin the process of cleaning up.  And in the end, I am much happier.

Father's Day

I used to dread Father's Day.  When I was younger, kids would tease me about not having a father.  We lived in a small town where, at the time, no one else in my class had experienced divorce.  At the end of the school year when we made gifts for our dads, the kids would taunt me; telling me I had no one to give my gift to.  My heart was broken by the fact that I did have a father, he just chose not to have a relationship with me.  Thankfully, I did have a wonderful grandfather who always showered me with love and affection.  I was his only grandchild for many years and the only granddaughter for twenty.  To say that he spoiled me would be an understatement.  As much as I loved my grandfather and was blessed by his presence in my life, I always wondered what a real father looked like.  Now I know.

From the first moment my husband laid eyes on our first child, I knew a father was born.  He stood there just gazing and smiling at her for what seemed like hours.  He developed an evening routine with her before bed that included play time and a bath.  It was his time with her and it was sacred.  He continued the routine when the quads came along; it just became a little more challenging juggling all five.  I have watched him love each one of them for who God created them to be.  He disciplines them so they know what is right.  He talks to them about who God is and what He has done for us.  He has big expectations for our children because he knows what they are capable of doing, but is gracious and merciful if they fall short of the goal.  He is fiercely protective and creates a safe, loving environment for them to learn and grow.  He does make mistakes, but is strong enough to ask for forgiveness.  I am very thankful for him.

I have seen first hand the love of a father and the blessings it brings to a child.  Through my husband, I witness the sweet reflection of my Heavenly Father's love.  It brings healing to my broken heart and fills me with unspeakable joy.  I am truly blessed!

Scars

My kids like to compare scars.  They compare them with each other and with their friends.  One of my sons has a scar from a friend hitting him in the head with a golf club.  It required stitches.  My other son has a scar from a hernia repair.  (Thankfully, he does not show that scar to anyone!)  My oldest daughter has a scar on her chin and one by her ear from two different falls.  All of my younger children have scars from IVs.  They were nine weeks early and required many.  Sometimes my husband and I will join in and show our various scars.  Some of which we acquired during childhood and some as adults.   In some way, it is interesting to recount the different incidences that caused the injuries.  Often times we find ourselves laughing about the circumstances and the reactions of others.  Some of the stories only got funny with age... 

Comparing our scars is really an act of intimacy.  Through the telling of the stories we discover important details about each other.  We learn of important events.  We learn the thoughts and feelings of others.  We also learn the impact the events have had.  I learned from my oldest daughter, who saw her brother get hit with the golf club, that she thought he was going to die because of all the blood.  She was terrified and worried for her brother.  And now she has no interest in learning to play golf.  She associates it with getting hurt.  (Did I mention she saw me get hit in the head with a golf club as well?) 

You can learn a lot about someone from their scars.  That's why I think it is so important to share them with those who are close to us.  Our scars speak to where we have been and why we react the way we do.  I know it can be scary.  You may not want to share all the gory details, especially at first, but there is closeness that enters into relationships when we share our scars.  And so often, in the sharing, God brings healing.  One day while sharing the scars of my father leaving, my youngest daughter, with tears in her eyes, said that she was sure my father did love me even if he couldn't be with me.  Those words pierced my heart and brought healing in a way that I could never have imagined. 

So don't cover your scars as if they don't exist or don't matter.  They do.  Share them when you feel led to do so.  You may be surprised what God will do....

Smiling

I had lunch with a friend a few days ago.  She was telling me how she had begun taking piano lessons.  She had wanted to learn to play the piano for a while and was given the gift of lessons for her birthday.  Her entire face lit up as she began to tell me about her lessons and the song she was learning.  She became a giddy little girl right before my very eyes.  It was fantastic!  What caught my attention were her comments about how the joy and the richness of playing permeated other areas of her life.  The fulfillment she received while playing the piano overflowed, and brought her peace and satisfaction long after she had finished.  I found myself smiling and being filled with immeasurable joy as she shared her experience.  I can't help but smile every time I think about it!

It made me think about God's reaction when we follow our dreams.  I think it makes Him smile.  After all, He was the one who gave them to us.  And He knows better than anyone, even ourselves, the joy and satisfaction we receive when we pursue a dream.  When we follow our dreams, we become like little children who have discovered a hidden treasure; giddy with excitement.  I think He can't help but smile!  

The Current

My family and I recently went to a large water park.  We spent two full days in the sun and water.  We had a wonderful time.  Some of the rides were thrilling.  We would start off with a sudden drop only to twist and turn and drop some more until we ended with a large splash at the bottom.  There was a lot of screaming involved. (Yes, I am a chicken, but I loved the rides!)  Some of the other rides were a bit more relaxing, like the lazy river.  For this ride, there were currents that would push us down the river.  There were a few rapids thrown in from time to time for a little excitement, but mostly we were to float and enjoy.  However, I found myself not enjoying.  I was getting caught in currents (we called them 'the vortex') that would keep me circling in one place for quite some time.  Often times, my traveling buddies would pass by unable to help.  So there I floated until I was bumped by another rider or a lifeguard helped me.   And once moving I paddled furiously to catch up to my friends.  It could get very frustrating.  And not very relaxing.

At one point, I looked back and saw my oldest daughter caught in the vortex.  I was struck by the look on her face.  She was stuck, but didn't seem all that concerned.  She knew that in time she would get out.  She also knew that sooner or later she would catch up to us or we would stop and wait for her.  She was enjoying the ride.  So while I struggled, she surrendered to the current.  While I wore myself out, she relaxed and went where the water took her; trusting that she would get to where she wanted to go. 

I so want to be like her as I walk this journey.  All too often, I struggle against where God is taking me.  I think I'm not moving fast enough or in the right direction.  I become troubled because others seem to be passing me by.  They seem to be making progress while I'm stuck in the same place unable to catch the current.  I become tired, worn out, grumpy, and unmerciful.  That is not who I want to be.  So, I'm learning to surrender to the current.  I'm allowing God to determine where I go and how fast I'll get there.  I'm learning to enjoy the ride.  

Thankful

I did not want to write today.  It has been a long week.  The last week of school for my kids and all that entails.  The last week to make any changes to my son's mainstream plan for next year.  The last week to try to meet some friends before summer vacations and moves take place.  The last week to have a quiet house for a few hours a day.  Add to that, internet trouble and various minor inconveniences of misplaced items.  I am tired physically and emotionally.  Yet, here I am writing.  I'm writing because my family won't let me skip my scheduled writing times.  And for that, I am so thankful.

I heard a quote from a football coach today.  The main idea was that a coach makes his players do what they don't want to do, so they can achieve the goals they have always dreamed of.  My family has become my coach.  Collectively and individually they push me to do things that I may not want to do, but need to do in order to follow my dream.  They know when I am tempted to put off writing, but won't let me, even if it means they have to wait for something they want.  They know when I am discouraged, so they remind me of my purpose and passion. They will not let me give up or slip into complacency.  They will not allow fear or excuses to stand in the way.  They continue to push and love me as I work toward my goal.  For this precious gift, I am so thankful!