I’m Leaving the Good Mommy Club

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I listened to a Focus on the Family broadcast that I can’t shake. It was John Rosemond speaking on Raising Well-Behaved Children. The title had me.

I don’t want perfect children, but I desire obedient children. I don’t want children who can’t think for themselves or form their own opinions, but I do want children who will not challenge every word from my lips or argue each instruction I speak.

John Rosemond’s words have been scrolling through my mind. He talked about how our generation is more concerned with building relationships with our kids than being leaders and disciples to our children. Considering the fact that I attempt to build a strong relationship with my kids, I knew I had to explore this line of thought.

I love the words of Josh McDowell, “rules without relationship leads to rebellion.” John spoke to this and said he believes Josh would agree that to have a relationship, you need leadership first.

John goes on to speak about the ‘good mommy club’. This is the club where to be a good mommy you spend as much time as possible with your children (among other things). He said, “My mom expected me to pay attention to her.” Whoa!

Here’s where I will take this in a different direction. My mind began to ponder our drive to become intentional parents.

John Rosemond said he wants to liberate women across the country from the good mommy club and restore marriages.

Over the past several weeks, God continues to show me where I need His freedom. I need His freedom in everything. Often I push back and think I have life under control or that I know best. God gently brings me to a place where He shows me that freedom through Him and His strength is what I truly need.

God didn’t ask me to be in the good mommy club. He asked me to be in the ‘love Me with your whole heart club’. Many of my best efforts are attempts to take His glory.

Jesus wants to carry the weight of glory so I don’t have to.

On any given day, I can scroll through Facebook or Twitter or my blog roll, and I can read amazing, amazing, amazing words that encourage me to be more intentional, or instruct me in being a better mom. I see pictures of what everyone else does with their kids, and suddenly I feel what I’m doing doesn’t compare.

It’s not the fault of the words I read or the images I see, it’s what I do with those words and pictures. Often I turn these well-meaning words into commands to try harder. It comes back to me.

The online world doesn’t need to change. The bloggers don’t need to stop blogging. The posters don’t need to stop posting. I need to change what I do with the words and images when they enter my heart.

If I’m not careful about the words I allow to shape and impact me in my parenting, in my spiritual walk, in everything, I can very easily make ready a field of fear in my heart. Fear of failing my kids. Fear of how my kids will turn out. Fear of them making poor choices. Fear over everything in my life.

The words we allow to shape us have the potential to create fear which quietly fuels our desires to become more “intentional”, which could possibly turn into try-harder parenting in disguise.

To be an intentional parent is to be a parent on purpose and to parent with purpose. 

Intentional parenting isn’t merely filling bucket lists, creating memories, going on special date nights, attending every field trip, and playing for endless hours. All of these moments are lovely, but if we aren’t careful, these can add up to a list that will never be satisfied. They will whisper to our soul, “You will never be enough.”

Our world is making intentional parenting something it doesn’t have to be. Something more complicated than it should be.

The harder I try to be a good mommy, the bigger my fear grows. With good reason. My focus is on me, not Him. My eyes need to be fixed on Him, not the world around me that tells me what a good mommy looks like. My eyes need to be fixed on Him, not my children, who at any given moment cause me to tremble at the possibilities I see. My eyes need to be fixed on Him, not the fear of what others think.

If our kids need us to be a leader, which makes way for a healthy relationship, then the best place to start is fixing our eyes on the ultimate leader who came for us.

Maybe when we fix our eyes on Him, intentionality becomes effortless. Maybe intentionality becomes a byproduct.

Today I will release my membership from the good mommy club. Care to join me? I’m taking my eyes off what the world, the blogs, and social media says I should do to be a good mommy, and I’m fixing my eyes on Him. I will let Him make me the mommy He wants me to be. It might not look like the best mommy to the world, but if He is leading me, it will be the best version for the purpose He sets before me.

I think I agree with John Rosemond. I think freedom will feel really nice. Christ came to set us free. He covers us with grace through the sacrifice.  He came so nothing would hold us captive again. Even being a good mommy.

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The 5 Crucial Things A Parent Can Do In The Life Of Their Child

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I rested on the edge of his bed and listened to the confusion in his voice. When his narrowed eyes dared move towards mine, they darted away with stealthy speed.

“I’m tired of being good. I don’t want to be sweet anymore.” Silence fell over the room. I thought back to the previous weeks, the previous hours. This up and down swing of emotions, this moving to and from the ones he loves most, the acting out in obvious cries for attention, the pushing away when others drew near.

“I don’t feel like myself anymore. I don’t even know who I am.” He couldn’t articulate all he felt. How could he? He didn’t even understand it.

The words my son began to share nudged a slumbering fear in my soul. The fear began to stretch its arms and mumble its good mornings. Give up. It’s over. His problems are bigger than you can possibly handle or imagine. His faith in God isn’t strong enough for the battles waged against him. Just wait til he’s older. You have no idea. 

The unknowns, the uncertainties, the what-ifs – these are the food fear enjoys most. Right here is where fear tempts me to feast.

I inhaled sharply. These voices of fear needed to stop, but they began to speak louder with each passing second, so loud I could only hear my son’s words in the distance. “I don’t know who I am.”

What I heard was a silent cry. “Do you really love me?” He needed to know if the words we tell him are true. If I act mean, do you love me? If I disobey, do you love me? If I act irrational, do you love me? If I don’t meet the expectations placed on me, do you still love me? If I don’t even know who I am, do you still love me? 

Is unconditional love true or false? This is what our children are desperate to know.

If there is one thing I know, it’s that our children must know they are loved. Unconditionally. There are no bargains on love in this home. You can’t earn more love by being the “good” kid. You can’t force my love to stop when you are too much to handle.

Love is a choice in this home. To my son, I say, “Love is a choice. I choose to love you because of the place in my life the Lord placed you. He chose to love you, and His love is so great, He gave His one and only Son for you.”

When our children find themselves out of control on the slopes of life, it’s the knowledge that no matter what happens, what bumps they hit, what trees they crash, what damage they cause, they are loved. Fully loved.

I looked into his eyes. “You know who you are. You are a child of God. Because of that you know exactly who you are even when you don’t feel you do. You are chosen, redeemed, righteous, known, loved, holy. You are God’s workmanship, you are complete in Christ, you are forgiven, you are a saint.”

“Rarely will you feel like you are the person God says you are.”

God tells us who we are. We don’t need the world to affirm us, we don’t need the world to tell us that we don’t measure up. Because we don’t, we couldn’t, but He could, and He did, and therefore, we live. Praise God.

When our kids hit the hard bumps, what they really want to know is “Am I really loved?” To know they are always loved, they must know who they really are because we rarely act like who God says we are. Our kids must be reminded of truth. Constantly.

Colossians 4:2 “Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful.”

 

The 5 most important things we can do to help our children when life is rough and confusing:

 

  1. Thank God. Thank God for the gift of our child. Thank God for wisdom, discernment, and insight. Thank God when He is gracious to reveal those inner struggles of the heart. Thank Him for everything. Always.
  2. Pray. Pray always, pray about everything. Pray they will always know they are known and loved. Pray in the deepest corners of their soul, they know they are unconditionally loved, even in the ugliest of moments. Pray against the attacks of the enemy who seeks to destroy. Pray over them while they sleep. Pray in their room when they are away. Pray as you fold their clothes and clean their toothpaste mess from the sink. Pray without ceasing. No one is praying for your child like you can. God has placed you in the position of strongest advocate for their protection and well-being.
  3. Fight. Don’t lose hope. Don’t fear. Fight fear with trust. Trust God that He uses all things for good for those who love Him. Trust Him that the hard, ugly moments will be used for His glory. Trust Him to love your children more than you do. Fight fear with faith.
  4. Rest. When you pray and when you fight fear with faith, sit back and rest in His loving embrace. Rest in Him. Rest in knowing He will never leave you, He will never forsake you. Rest in Him as you pray and fight fear with faith.
  5. Love. Love and never stop loving. Tell your kids all the time. Don’t assume they know it because you feel it. Tell them that love is more than a feeling, it’s a choice. Tell them there is not a single thing on this earth they could ever do to make you stop loving them. Tell them that every single night when you kiss their cheeks. Hold their faces in your gentle hands, look with fierce intensity deep into their eyes and tell them, “I love you. I will never stop. You can’t make me.” When they are older and have moved on, don’t stop telling them you love them.

Our children will face struggles that make us shudder and want to run away and hide. While we will feel life can be out of control for our kids, there is one thing we can control. We can choose to love them. We can love them right through any wave that tries to take them under. When they come up for air, we are right there. Loving them. Reminding them of truth. The waves that roll them will lie, but when they resurface, we are a constant source of truth and love. Pointing them back always to the One who loves them and knows them in ways we will never understand.

Today, thank, pray, fight, rest, and love.

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When Your Child Acts Unloveable, When No One Understands

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I peeked open his door and gazed at his peaceful slumber. I think he is beautiful when he sleeps. His body is in constant motion when awake, so I love to watch him at complete rest.

Then I did what I can only do with him, what would cause my other boys to wake in fight mode. With no warning at all, no gentle back rubs, no sweet good morning whispers, I rolled him fast on his back and dug my chin in hard into the soft of his back, laughing and tickling him with no mercy.

How one can go from the deepest slumber to the deepest of belly laughs, I will never understand. I stopped, and he said, “Again!” We hit the repeat button on this moment each morning. It’s the best way to assure a happy mood from Andrew.

Occasionally, he turns to what we call the “dark side”. It’s a turning of little Anakin Andrew. The good dwells there, but sin lurks and lures with fierce boldness. The good is in constant battle with the dark. It’s there for all of us. We all have a little Anakin in us. Kids just live with their guards down most of the time. We’ve learned to keep our masks on. We all know the good prevails. We must remember good wins in the end.

On my end I had done everything “right” according to all parenting books and best blogs. We had prepared what costume he would wear to school for spirit day. We had it laid out and prepared. We had discussed how the morning would go. I started the morning the way he likes. I gave him plenty of choices so he felt he maintained some control and wasn’t being bossed around. I did everything “they” say to do.

No matter how hard we try, sometimes our best intentions fail us. When a perfect parent day aligns with a perfect kid day, the stars shine bright, the birds sing joyous songs, all looks well in our world. We smile more. We laugh more. The world looks grand. We post it on Facebook. We see the good in the world around us.

There are days one of us brings our A game and the other doesn’t. We meet at the corner of I’m trying and Why Aren’t You. This is the intersection where collisions are common. In my home anyway. That is where I was this morning. Full on collision though I had followed all precautionary rules and road signs.

I heard no birds singing joyous songs. Nothing about this moment would make it on my Facebook page. It was too ugly, and I don’t want to be a whiner. Barking replaced laughing. Scowl replaced smile. The world looked grim, and a 6-year-old looked back at me with defiant eyes that said, “See if you can make me why don’t you.”

Sometimes God gives us what we need the most to need Him the most.

My heavy footsteps marched hard to the whisper, “Lord, help. Lord, help. Please, Lord, help. I can’t parent his personality well.”

A difficult child is a high calling. We must rise up to the challenge. We can’t wallow in defeat. We can’t focus on the difficult task. We must focus on the calling.

Love this child who acts unloveable, which means he needs love that much more. Show this child unconditional love when you feel like pulling back.

This is so hard for me to remember in the heat of battle. My first thoughts are always shameful. My first thoughts are usually the ones that I dare not admit. Therefore, I will confess all the more.

If I don’t take captive my thoughts, they will lead me to despair, self-pity, resentment, and bitterness. I will convince myself that no one understands the challenges I face, the difficult moments I battle. I will say under my breath, or to my poor husband who is forced to listen, “No one understands how hard this is! No one sees how hard I try to understand him and parent him well.”

This is the moment the Holy Spirit intercedes into my negative and sinful thoughts. Yes, there is someone who understands full well. The same one who created you. The same one who created him. The same one who matched you up for my purposes to bring glory to my name. Yes, someone understands.

This is the moment He reminds me that we all face difficult battles and that none of us completely understands the challenges that any of us face. Truly we don’t. But that is what He is there for. He is there to take my burdens and frustrations. He is there to listen to my venting. No one understands our lives fully, do they? But He does.

I release the world from the pressure of understanding me when I realize they don’t need to fully know me because there is One who does fully know me. And He loves me anyway. Despite knowing me full well, He loves me. A mask can’t hide me from Him. My naked heart is laid bare and vulnerable. And that very thought catches the breath in my throat.

In the most difficult moments with my strong-willed child, it’s my own sinful pride that battles hard inside me. It’s that part of me that wants things to be easier, wants things to look a certain way. The part that whispers through clenched teeth to God, “I’m doing everything I’m supposed to do, why isn’t this going the way I want it to?” It’s ugly. So very ugly.

There is no ugly, He can’t wipe clean. There are no words or emotions He can’t redeem.

It’s in the quiet that I understand this all. I rarely see this clearly in the moment. It’s when emotions settle down, when the world begins to resemble calm, when I step back. When I get out of God’s way, I’m able to see.

Filing out of our house, we scrambled late into the car. The trash needed to be moved to the curb, the dog needed to be put up, Zachary couldn’t find his glasses, Andrew forgot his coat. My jaw ached as it had not released its grip just yet.

“Mommy, mommy!” I kept right on moving. Rolling trash cans with Jacob, helping gather missing items. Andrew wouldn’t stop. “Mommy! Mommy! Look, fast!”

With less love in my voice than I care to admit, I snapped, “What Andrew?!?”

“Look, there!”

I looked up, and there it was. A spectacular sunrise. The thing about sunrises, they last but a moment. We must catch a glimpse of the moment and hold tight to the beauty. Faster than I could run to grab my phone, the sun had risen, and the stunning display was gone. I hold onto the beauty I know was there, is there, and will be there again.

Such is this life. Life as mommy. Life as a friend. Life as a wife. Life as a co-worker. Life as anything. The moments come, the moments go, the beauty seems to ebb and flow. It’s an illusion. The beauty is always here because He is always here. We just need eyes to see through the haze. For me it’s usually in hindsight. So I pray each time, Lord, help me see clearer right there in those hazy, crazy moments. Amen.

(Thank you to my sweet, friend, Angela, who let me use the sunrise photo she beautifully captured this morning.)

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A Letter To My Boys – The Real Reason I Say No To Electronics

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[box] While I’m taking a blogging break, I will be posting some of my favorite posts from 2014. Happy New Years![/box]

This is a repost of the most popular post of 2014. I posted in January and again in May.

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Dear Boys,

Do you remember the day we went to the drugstore and the lady said, “Wow, you are the first kids I’ve seen all day with nothing in your hands.” Remember how she marveled at how you didn’t need an electronic device to carry through the store? I know how her words made you feel. I know how it reminded you that you are different because your mom limits your electronic usage. I know it was yet another reminder.

The same reminder you receive when we are out to eat and you notice all the kids playing their phones and iPads instead of talking to their parents. I know it was a reminder of all the sporting events where you feel you are the only kids whose parents are making them cheer on their siblings rather than burying themselves in a phone. I know it was another reminder to you that you feel different in this electronic age we live in.

Well, boys, it’s not you. It’s me. Me being selfish maybe. You see I can’t bear to miss a moment with you. Let me explain.

I want to talk to you when we are out to eat. I want to listen to your questions. I want to have training opportunities. I want to allow space for conversation that can take us deeper. And if you are always distracted with electronics, well… I might miss those moments.
I could give you all the statistics about how damaging it is to your development, your attention span, your ability to learn. While all of those are valid reasons to keep electronics away, that is not my primary reason why I say no to you so much. It’s more than that. Much more. I need you to understand this.

When we are together, I want all of you. The fullness of you. I want to experience you. Truly experience you. And I can’t do that with you when there is an electronic device between us. You see it acts as a barrier. I want to see what brings life to those eyes. I want to watch the wonder and magic dance across your face as you discover the wonders of this world. I want to watch you as you figure things out. I want to watch you process life, develop your thoughts. I want to know you. I want to know your passions. I want to watch you as you discover your God-given talents and gifts. And when you hide behind a screen, I miss out on all of that. And my time with you….well it will be over in the blink of an eye.

I want to guide you into an understanding of life and who you are. Boys, kids today are starved for attention, true connection and relationship. I don’t want you to feel starved. That is why I say no. I know that feeding the desire to play in your device is like giving you candy. It satisfies for a moment but provides no long term nutrition. It does more harm than good.

I don’t want to look back when I’m out of the trenches of child training and regret a second I had with you. I don’t want to merely survive. I want to thrive in this life with you. We are in it together. We are a family.

Yes, when we are waiting at a doctor’s office for an hour, it would be easier to quiet you with my phone. But if I did that, I fear I would send you a message that says I’d rather hush you than hear those precious words falling from your lips.

I can’t bear the thought of allowing you to miss out on the wonders and mysteries of this world. When you are transfixed on a screen, the beauty of this world will be lost to you. In every moment beauty is waiting to be discovered. I don’t want you to miss it.

I want you to be comfortable with yourself. I want you not to feel a constant need to be entertained and distracted. If you stay behind a screen, you never have to experience just being you, alone with your thoughts. I want you to learn to think, to ponder life, to make discoveries, to create. You have been gifted by God in unique ways. I want those to bloom. They can’t bloom in the glow of a screen. They need life, real life, to bring them to light.

I want you to be confident in who you are. I want you to be able to look people in the eyes and speak life into them. If I allow you to live behind a screen, you get little practice relating eye to eye. To truly know someone you have to look into their eyes. It’s a window into their heart. You see what can’t be seen in cyberspace.

When I tell you no to devices, I’m giving you a gift. And I’m giving me a gift. It’s a gift of relationship. True human connection. It’s precious and a treasure. And you mean so much to me that I don’t want to miss a second of it.

I love how God created your mind. I love to hear the way you think and process life. I love to see what makes you laugh. I love to watch those eyes widen when a new discovery is made. And when your head is behind a screen, I miss all of that. And so do you.
In this life we have few cheerleaders. In this family we will cheer each other on. I know it is boring to sit at swim lessons and watch your brother learn to swim. I know it is boring to sit through a 2 hour baseball practice. And in all honesty, it would be easy for me to give you the iPad and keep you quiet and occupied. But we all lose out when we do that. You will miss out on watching your brother’s new accomplishments. You will deprive him of the joy of his moment to shine for you. You will miss out on what it means to encourage each other.

I want you to grow up knowing the world doesn’t revolve around you. (One day your wife will thank me) I want you to learn to give selflessly of yourself….to give away your time, your talents, your treasures. If I distract you with electronics when you should be cheering for your brother, well, I’m simply telling you that your happiness is more important than giving your time to someone other than yourself.

This world needs more selflessness. This world needs more connection. This world needs more love. We can’t learn these behind a screen.

I want to raise sons that know how to look deeply into the eyes of the ones they love. I want my future daughters in law to know what it’s like to have a husband that looks deeply into her eyes because he knows the value of human relationships and the treasure of love. And that is best communicated eye to eye.

I want to watch your face illuminated by the majesty of life – not the glow of a screen. I want all of you. Because I only have you for a short while. When you pack up and leave for college, I want to look back with no regrets over the time I spent with you. I want to look back and remember how your eyes sparkled when we talked. I want to look back and remember how I actually knew those little quirky details of your life because we had time enough to be bored together.

It’s ok to be bored. We can be bored together. And we can discover new things together.

I love you. I love you too much to quiet you with an iPhone or an iPad or a DS. And I can’t even apologize, because I’m really not sorry. I’m doing this so that I won’t be sorry one day.

With all my love,
Mom

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The One Christmas Preparation We Can’t Miss

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I avoid going out in the final days before Christmas. The hustle and bustle, the anxiety and stress, the talk of preparing for Christmas, and the conversations of “I’m not ready” or “I’m ready for it to be over” are a discouragement. Instead, I hide away at home with my boys in these final days. To rest. To be still.

While the world keeps itself busy in preparing for Christmas, I pray He prepares my heart. It’s the one Christmas preparation I pray to remember. If the gifts don’t get wrapped, if I forget a gift, if I fail to get everything on my grocery list, if I forget to send a few cards, Christmas will still go on. Christmas won’t be ruined. If I stress about the preparations, I will miss Christmas completely.

If I don’t create the most magical Christmas imaginable for my kids, it might be the greatest gift they unwrap this season. It might just make room for them to be dazzled by their Savior.

It’s not too late, my friends, to change the course of your Christmas season. If you are tired, stressed, and overwhelmed, be still. The only preparation He wants from us is to clear space in our hearts to receive Him this season. He doesn’t want us to work so hard to prepare to celebrate Him that we fail to experience Him. He doesn’t need our never-ending to-do lists.

If our kids don’t get everything they dreamed of, it’s ok. If our company doesn’t think we were the best hosts imaginable, it’s ok. If it doesn’t all get done, it’s ok. It’s deceiving to think it’s possible anyway.

In these final days, as we prepare to celebrate the birth of our King, let’s do one thing. Slow down. Slow down so we don’t miss Him completely. Slow down so we have eyes to see Him right here, right now. Mary and Joseph didn’t speed their way into Bethlehem. They journeyed. Let’s journey in these final days.

Then let’s not stop. When we pack away our Christmas decorations, let’s not stop preparing our hearts to celebrate Him. Let’s not stop talking about Him. It’s not just one day. It’s every single day. He was born to die to offer us eternal life and to glorify His Father.

The Light has come. The light shines for the world to see the greatest gift that has ever come, the greatest gift that will ever come. Let that light shine for the world to see. Let that light illuminate your heart and your home in these final Christmas days. The light remains past Christmas. Keep shining. Be still and watch that light. Stand back and watch your children and grandchildren mesmerized by the Creator of true Christmas magic.

Let’s fix our eyes on the light. The Christmas light that shines all year long. The Christmas light that has come into our world. The Christmas light that never burns out, that never fades, that never short-circuits.

These last days can be hectic or slow. It’s our choice. When we slow we truly see the light illuminating the world around us.

From our family to yours, we wish you a very merry Christmas. We pray blessings over you and your families this season and beyond. Thank you for being a part of my life here in this blog space. I hold you close to my heart and truly treasure each of you. Thank you for the love you have shown to our family.

Much love,

Renee

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Longing for Christmas Rest

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As the final days of Christmas unwrap before me, I rest. Rest looks different than I realize most days. For me rest is more internal. It’s a turning over my plans, my ideas, my hopes, my failures, my fears, my everything to Him. I am resting in Him.

It’s been a tough fall for our family. We have encountered attacks from the enemy, we have journeyed down new roads, we have learned we need to bend and change more as our children grow. More than anything we are realizing that living in total submission to God is one of the most beautiful gifts we’ve unwrapped this season.

He has tilled my heart in the most glorious of ways. I’ve been speaking so much this fall that I’ve not been able to blog as much as I’d hoped. I have much to write, so much to share. I feel as though God has taken me through a bit of a spiritual growth spurt over the past few months.

That doesn’t mean I think I’m holier now. I don’t mean that I think I’ve become a “better” person. What I mean is that God has been speaking to me in ways I’ve never heard before. He has opened up parts of my heart that I’ve never known existed. He has allowed me to learn new things and view life in new ways. He has given me eyes to see His gifts in the middle of what looks frightening.

His Presence this season has overwhelmed me. To the point I have so much to say, I feel silenced.

I am taking a bit of a writing and speaking break through the New Year. All fall I’ve longed to just rest in Him. I’m learning. Resting in Him is a gift to be cherished. He longs to lavish us with His love. When I rest in Him, I am overcome by His great love and mercy over me.

Over the next couple of weeks, I won’t be posting regularly. I will resume the first week of January. However, I will be sharing some of the most popular posts over the coming days and weeks from this past year. I will share on Facebook and Twitter. I’d love you to join me there as well.

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When Your Christmas Season Doesn’t Go According To Plan

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I walk past the 4 foot tree in the upstairs hall and take note. A sprinkling of handmade ornaments hang on its branches. The rest of the ornaments remain in the box. A box of handprints. A box of painting gone wild. A box of love disguised as art projects.

It’s not the most beautiful of trees, but it is the most special. It’s the one that displays every ornament ever made by the hands of my boys. It’s the one with the colorful lights that remind me of childhood Christmas. It’s the one that the boys have taken ownership of over the years. Their special tree. This year it looks different.

It’s only partially decorated. Without my permission these little boys are becoming bigger boys. Their interests are changing. The little things that once delighted are becoming sweet memories. They are growing up. Somewhere along the tree decorating way that day, I imagine a game of tag broke out. Or a foosball match was challenged. Or a game of backyard football took shape. Something more exciting came along leaving this tree half finished.

I reflect on the years of watching their faces aglow as they meticulously hung each ornament. I remember how they worked together, each securing a spot on the tree that was all theirs. “Look, mom, isn’t it beautiful?” they would call out.

It always was beautiful. It still is beautiful even in its most imperfect, semi-forgotten state.

In our most imperfect, semi-forgotten state, He knows us. He doesn’t forget. He holds us close.

I walk through the house and take note of how different this Christmas looks in our home. “God, give me eyes to see your blessings that never cease.” I continue asking God to let me see the beauty that looks different than I envisioned. Lord, they are growing up too fast. Slow them down. Please, Lord, slow them down. I love each Christmas season as we celebrate you and watch these little eyes dance with joy. But those little eyes are beginning to look deeper into this life you’ve given them. Times are changing. My boys are changing. Show me how to change with them. Show me how to change with you, the One who never changes.

A medicine dropper leaves a sticky residue on the counter. I’m reminded how our season began in a way I never imagined. Multiple trips to the doctor, a son in excruciating pain, a diagnosis of Lyme Disease. A blessing. Answered prayers. A son held close to the Father. A child’s faith growing daily as he experiences the healing hand of his Creator. A child learning what it means to know God is good all the time even when life feels painful. Christmas blessings of hope burrowed deep in the blood and tissues that house his soul. The world calls it disease. We call it hope.

Endless phone calls and trips to doctors, physical therapy visits, researching and discussing, praying and understanding. These have taken the place of the typical Christmas busy. But isn’t Christmas about experiencing Him? Isn’t it about seeing Him? The Savior born into the world that Christmas day? Remembering that from the beginning of creation, God has put a plan in place to save us?

This Christmas looks different, but the message hasn’t changed. 

This Christmas looks different than I planned, but we are experiencing Him moment by moment. Isn’t that Christmas? 

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I walk past our Advent house. The one that counts down the days until we celebrate His birth in full. The one that holds a special activity or moment each day of the season. I think back to the years before. A door opened, a little note read, excited little voices to declare what we would do together. “We get to paint an ornament tonight!” I think back to hours ago. A door opened, a little note read, not-so-excited voices declared, “It’s paint an ornament night.”

I take note of the voice. I see the lack of enthusiasm. It’s ok. They are getting older. They are boys. They are growing and changing. Painting ornaments is supposed to lose its excitement. But thank God, I’ve had the years and the moments He’s graced me with. I delicately pick up the memories and tuck them neatly in my heart, gently closing the door. They are mine to hold forever.

This little advent house hasn’t been the giver of good gifts over the years. He has been the giver of good gifts. He only used that little house to give me those gifts, those moments with my boys. Blessings. He will continue to be the giver of good gifts. He will continue to be the giver of moments. Sometimes they will look different than I envision. He is always good.

This year the gifts look different, but the gift giver hasn’t changed. 

I walk past the box that holds our Christmas movies. Mickey’s Twice Upon A Christmas this year has been left in the box. They are too old they tell me. I take note. They are getting older. Thank God for past memories. Praise God for new ones.

This year the small moments look different, but the giver of moments remains the same.

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I unplug the lights from the tree. The tree that leans left no matter which direction you view from. The tree that I envisioned looking a particular way. It should be 9 feet tall, full and round, perfectly spaced limbs. It would be bigger and better than any tree that’s ever taken a spot in the family room.

This tree isn’t what I had in mind, but the hands that found it were given to me to hold for a season.

This year the tree looks more imperfect than I hoped, but the creator of that tree remains perfect.

I envisioned a trip to the Christmas tree farm to pick out the perfect tree. We would come home, decorate the tree, decorate the outside of the house with lights, listen to Christmas music while we sipped hot chocolate and lavished each other with love. Instead, I awoke in the middle of the night with intense pain, unable to move my leg because of muscle spasms.

My perfect day became a day I rested instead. God does this to me frequently, and I love Him for it.

My perfect Christmas plans are best lived out in ways I never envisioned, so I can experience Him in ways I never imagined.

Instead of a family trip to the farm, it was a dad and son trip to the lot. Instead of me working tirelessly making everything just perfect and right for my family, God allowed my family to serve and love me in a way that showed His perfect love for me.

This year my perfect Christmas plans failed, but the perfecter of my faith never fails.

I sat on the cold driveway, leg numb from the ice pack, watching Steve carry out the Christmas plans I so badly wanted to take part in. I wanted to be with him connecting and testing lights, weaving them just so along the bushes. Instead I watched. I watched him work with joy. I listened as the Christmas tunes drifted from his car. I took note of the little ways he was trying to create what he knew I wanted to create that day.

Times are changing, my boys are growing, our moments are looking different. This Christmas looks different than any others we’ve celebrated. My boys see the change. I see their realization of the growing up, the getting wiser, the changing preferences. They partly embrace the new moments and changes, they partly hold onto what once was.

Andrew, only 6 years old, requested his own alarm clock so he can get himself up and ready like his big brothers. Jacob, 11, stopped me as I left the room. “But, mom, will you still give him ‘yay-yays’?” (little tickles and kisses up his back).

“Oh, yes, I will never stop doing that until he tells me to.”

His shoulders relaxed as he leaned back into his pillow. “Ok, good.”

The changing is hard for each of us in our own little ways. But so very, very good.

The changing seasons of life are to be celebrated and embraced.  While some moments change, some will always remain the same. While the moments look different, what drives each moment remains unchanged.

If my Christmas season looks different than I envisioned, I can rest in knowing it was carefully laid out by the One who makes no mistakes.

And now we rest in Him as we embrace each Christmas moment that comes our way in the next days leading up to Christmas Day.

Seek Him wholeheartedly this Christmas.

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