A Confession Of Prideful Parenting

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I watched him walk bravely with the other kids as the swim instructor explained the rules.  “Ok, kids, I’ll call your name, and you can follow me to your group.”  The little brave blondie turned away in tears and ran into the shelter of his mom’s arms.

I didn’t meet the eyes of the mother in that moment. I saw her gentleness and patience with her son, and memories of my own failures began to rain down on me.

I immediately recalled a time when Jacob was 3 years old.  We signed him up for soccer, and he loved practices and loved his first game.  We were so proud of his bravery and invited our families up to watch a game.

We fully expected our 99.9% of the time obedient child to do as expected.  We expected him to play the game.  We expected him to have fun.  We expected him to do exactly as he’d been doing.  We didn’t expect what happened.  And I certainly never expected to be the parent I was that day in that moment where my child didn’t do what I expected of him.

My too-high, unfair expectations set my child and me up for failure that day.

The ball was in play, and my always-obedient child ran off the field in tears, refusing to play.  This couldn’t be.  He had to play.  People were here to watch.

Rather than trying to understand his fears and tears, I became the parent I never wanted to be on the sidelines of a sporting event.  I wasn’t one of the screaming parents fully displaying their folly.  I was worse.  From a distance no one saw the anger simmering inside of me.  My child saw.  I was parenting from pride.  I failed to see that this was abnormal for this child and seek to understand his feelings.  Instead, I focused on not getting my way. He wasn’t doing what I wanted him to do.  It wasn’t turning out the way I planned for.  It was completely out of my control.  My pride stepped in and tried to take control.

It’s one of the moments of mothering I wish I could erase from my memory forever.  I held him tightly and told him he had to play, he had no choice.  I threatened him with anything he loved.  Forget bribery, I went the opposite direction.  Whatever pressure he felt multiplied by 100 in that moment.

I placed the weight of my parenting pride on the shoulders of my 3-year-old and expected him to carry that load.  A load too great to bear.

The tone of my voice alone crushed his heart.  The anger in my eyes cut him deeply.

The worst part is that in those moments, it was all about me.  I was not parenting my child out of what was best for him.  I was parenting out of what was best for me.  I didn’t want to look bad.  I didn’t want to disappoint his teammates.  I didn’t want the coach to be frustrated.  I didn’t want our families to feel they wasted their morning to come watch him sit on the sidelines.  It was all about me, and I gave no thought to the pressure this placed on a little 3-year-old.  My first child.

All over a silly soccer game played by a handful of 3-year-olds.  In hindsight, it is ridiculous. In the trenches of motherhood, issues and battles can disguise themselves in clothes 3 sizes too big.

I wish some wise mother on her 3rd or 4th child had come along in that moment and saved me from my failure.  I wish she had gently laid her hands on my shoulders, hugged me, and said, “Motherhood is hard.  They will not always do what you want them to do.  They are their own unique little self and were not created by God to be robots or clones of you.”

I wish that mother in my imagination had said, “Try to become him in these moments of frustration.  Try to see the world through the eyes of a 3-year-old.  Try to see how confusing this soccer game is for him.  Try to feel the pressure he feels if he messes up.  Try to imagine how scary life may feel to him at times.  Then let him know that none of it matters.  Hug him tightly and tell him you love him.  Encourage him and cheer him through his fears.  Don’t belittle him because you feel like a failure.”

I wish she had said, “Success in motherhood isn’t based on what your child accomplishes or how well they perform.  Success in motherhood isn’t raising a child that does everything your way or the way you plan.  Success in motherhood is that you raised a child that knows 2 things:  They are loved by God unconditionally.  They are loved by you unconditionally, no matter what they accomplish or how they perform.  Let them know you love them.”

I wish she had shaken my pride right out of my bones so I would have viewed my child with tenderness and compassion in that very moment.

That wise mother never came along in that moment.  But my Heavenly Father was right there with me the entire time.  Where I failed to encourage my child, the Lord didn’t fail me.  Where I failed to speak kindly to my child, the Lord spoke kindly to me.  Where I failed to have compassion for my child, the Lord had compassion with me.  And His kindness led me to repentance.

The Lord was kind to me in showing me my weaknesses so I could cling to Him to make me strong.  The Lord was kind to show me that to mother well, I need to cling to Him moment by moment.  To love my child unconditionally, I need to bathe in His love for me.

The smell of chlorine and the sounds of splashing little feet brought me back into the current moment.  I sat watching my 3rd child as a 5-year-old taking swim lessons for the first time.  I don’t care how he performs – I just want him to know I love him and love watching him do what he loves. I now realize that if he has a melt down at some point during that lesson, it’s not the end of the world, it just means he needs me to help him, love him, and guide him.  I now realize that I’m parenting for my child not the assumed watchful eyes of all the other parents around me.  I now realize that to be a great mother means to love in a way that leaves no room for pride to elbow its way in.

The mother at the pool that day reminded me of this lesson I wish I had known with my first child.  The lesson that I now realize makes all the difference in the world when we hit the moments with our children when they don’t do what we expect them to do.

I watched as this mother held him, comforted him, and assured him it would be alright.  I don’t know if she wondered how many parents were watching her as their obedient children did what they were told.  I don’t know if she wondered if all eyes were on how she handled her child’s tears and cries at the poolside.  It certainly seemed she didn’t give it a thought.  In fact, she parented as if it were just the two of them in that moment.

She listened to his fears.  She showed him patience and understanding.  She didn’t belittle him.  She didn’t let his fears and reactions influence how she loved her child in that moment.  Together they sat on the side of the pool while he watched the kids in his group begin their lessons.

I wasn’t listening as I watched from afar.  But it appeared that she didn’t rush him to hurry up and get in the pool before the lesson was over.  She didn’t hurry him to perform.  She gave him space to be a kid.  She gave him freedom to be afraid.  She gave him space to understand his fears.  She gave him patience while he worked through it all.  All the while, she stayed by his side – encouraging, supporting, and loving.  From the other side of the pool, she appeared to give not a thought to anything other than allowing her child to work through his anxiety on his own time while she stood cheering him on, assuring him everything would be fine.  She loved him well in that moment.

And you know what happened?  That child got in the pool.  His mom stayed close for a time until she realized he was fine and she moved further away.  The end result – her child did what she wanted.  But in the process, he felt loved, protected, understood, and secure.  The end result was beautiful.

In comparison to my soccer game failure with my 3-year-old many years ago, I didn’t get the end result I wanted that day.  He didn’t play the game.  I still didn’t get my way.  But in the process I left scars on both of our hearts.  I sought forgiveness, and I know I’m forgiven.  Scars can’t be erased, but I know the Lord doesn’t want me to be haunted by regrets.  The Lord forgives, the Lord restores, the Lord redeems.  And He is faithful and trustworthy.  He uses all things for good, and I’m grateful He allowed me to see the depth of my mistakes and turn away.

These are the lessons I wish I had learned before parenting my firstborn child.  I wish I had learned to think like a kid rather than parent based on what others thought of my child and my parenting skills.

Just as our children fear, we fear.  Just as our children grow, we grow.  Just our children fail, we fail.  Our Father is right there with us.  He is growing us through our fears.  He is picking us up from our messes.  He is loving us unconditionally.  That gives me what I need to love my children well.  It makes me love Him more.  The more I love Him, the more love I have to love my children well.

 

 

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A Little Break From the Norm

Today’s post is a break from the regularly scheduled type of posts you are accustomed to reading here. I need a little lightness this week.  Is lightness a word?

I’m the serious type- contemplative and always striving to produce, to understand, and to explore.  At times it hits me that I need to take a deep breath and chill a bit.  So over the weekend, I did that.  Sort of.

I made a headboard!!!!!  Why?  Because #1 I hate spending money.  #2 it’s almost impossible for me to buy something when I look at it and say, “I think I can make that.”  #3 we had to buy a new mattress and I couldn’t stand seeing the mattress with no headboard.  However, I’m not a crafty type.  AT ALL.  I’m a terrible scrapbooker, which is why I love the digital varieties.  When I volunteer for class duties at school, I’m quick to let all know that I am not crafty.  For some strange reason, people tend to think I’m crafty.  Then they put me on a task and quickly regret the decision.

I hosted the 101 Day Dalmation party when my middle son was in kindergarten.  The beading crafts of counting 101 beads and making a necklace?  Disasterous.  Moms were scurrying to clean up beads rolling all over the floor every time a child was ready to put on the clasp.  Then we moved onto painting sun catchers.  Who brings non-washable paints to a kindergarten craft?  A non-crafty mom. (That would be me)  Paint still adorns the ceiling tiles in that classroom from my own child exploding the paint sending it straight up to the ceiling.

When I decided to make my own headboard, don’t think for a minute these images weren’t rolling around in my mind.  But I did it anyway, just to prove to myself that I could.

I consulted Pinterest, with which I have a love/hate relationship.  I love it for projects like these.  I hate it when it sucks me into its time web.

My step-dad and I went to Lowe’s and got the plywood and boards for the legs.  I took a lampshade and traced the design to cut out at the top. Then I used that cut piece to make the other side match.

My favorite 5-year-old assisted with the rest.  He and I screwed the legs on.  I wish I had pictures of what we did.  We mutilated some screws but had a blast in the process.  Next, we took foam that we cut to size.  He sprayed the adhesive; I placed the foam on.  We used an old mattress cover instead of batting, and the two of us stapled our hearts out.  When we lifted it up to check the progress, I screamed because it looked like the beginnings of a real headboard!!

This was just the boost I needed.  I finished up by wrapping it with fabric, stapling a ton, and adorning with nail heads.  All done.  Since I’m not a DIY blogger, I will spare you all the instructions.

It’s not perfect, but we did it.  And every time I look at it, I can’t help smiling because my favorite 5-year-old and I worked hard, and it feels good to be done with it. Not to mention we saved several hundred dollars!!

Here’s a few pics…

 

Padded and wrapped, awaiting fabric.  Followed by wrapping in fabric.

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This cutie was snapping pics and jumping in for “in progress” pics.

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And done….

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And I can’t end without mentioning that my materials cost about $60.  A similar style from Pottery Barn was about $1,000.  That is my favorite part 🙂  You can check out my Pinterest page for all the tutorials I followed.

Next week we will resume with regularly scheduled posts.  Have a great week!

Costco, a hot dog, and one ugly moment

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Proverbs 25:28 Like a city whose walls are broken down is a man who lacks self-control.

Almost in unison, my husband and my oldest son said, “I cannot believe what I just saw you do.” I was a bit shocked as well.  Shocked because it just happened.  As in, not a single thought went through my mind.  My body just took over.

Let me back up a bit.  I pulled a typical me.  I planned for us to drive all the way to Costco (far from home) with the thought and hope of purchasing a much-needed mattress to replace our 14-year-old backache producer.  As is often the case, I failed in the details.  As we are looking and price-comparing, my husband is reminding me we have no way to get it home.  In my mind we can make just about anything work.  I was just sure some nice employee would help us cram it in or tie it on the roof.  My husband was giving me the look.  I knew it was better to go home and formulate an actual logistical plan.

Meanwhile, we were in my favorite store.  A store we decided not to renew our membership because for all the cost savings, we inevitably spent money on things we found for bargain prices that we couldn’t live without that we would’ve never seen had we not been there to begin with.  That place can make me spend hundreds of dollars over budget in an effort to save $3 per item on a handful of items.  Soooo….

Here we are.  At Costco for no reason.  And I knew temptation was great.  I began justifying why I should just go ahead and renew the membership and buy what we needed anyway.  But I kept saying no.  I would win this battle over temptation.  I would have self-control.  I was determined. I could do this.  But I wan’t enjoying it.  At all.

Steve looked at me for the sign to shop or leave, and with a pouty face, I said, “Let’s just go. We can’t buy anything anyway, so I don’t even want to be here.”  I said this as my hands grazed some outdoor pillows that would be perfect in my screen porch.  Steve is really good at this.  The denying yourself what you want.  He actually derives pleasure in telling himself no to things.  I want to be more like him in this way.

We had promised the kids lunch at Costco but hoped we could convince them to hold out for something yummier closer to home.  They wanted the instant gratification I was struggling with myself.  We failed to convince them, and again I said no when I wanted to say yes.  I ordered 2 slices of pizza and one hot dog for the kiddos.  Steve and I got nothing.  I was winning but felt miserable in the process.

And that is when it happened.  The moment sin reared its heinous head and painted a picture for me right before our very eyes.  Of all of my children, my middle son loves his food the most. Truly this child loves food.  He savors each bite, never rushing through the moments of enjoyment.  When they placed the hot dog in his hand, he said “Oh wow!  It’s huge!  It’s the biggest hot dog I’ve ever seen.”

He unwrapped it carefully.  Taking cautious steps to open it just right, his eyes were half closed. I watched him slowly take in the aroma. In an out-of-body experience, I swooped in.  I stole that boy’s joy right then and there.  Something took over and my arm reached out, grabbed that hot dog, and I took a quick bite.  The first bite.

Together my husband and oldest son looked at me with wide eyes, while my middle son said, “What?!”  “What just happened?”

I can’t explain it.  Except to say that sin fought hard that day.  It desperately wanted to win that battle.  It lost through the aisles of Costco, but it won over a hot dog in a moment of rebellion. The lack of self-control was ugly.

And isn’t that how life is really?  A constant fight against sin?  The problem that day is that I failed to truly recognize the spiritual in our situation.  My husband kept telling me to see the spiritual in it.  The funny thing is that is what I do.  All. the. time.  I look for the connections in everything.  It’s how I write.  I’m constantly gathering, unwrapping, connecting, exploring.  But I did not want to see it on that day.

The fight is worth the fight.  The problem is that when we fight in our own strength, it will always feel too heavy.  When we fight sin out of our own determination, it will eventually find a way to express itself.  Often hurting others along the way.  When we fight in His power that He freely gives, it’s amazing what can be accomplished.

The Costco/eating my son’s hot dog is a silly example, but it is such a relevant picture of my daily life and walk with the Lord.  I can try and try to do good, be good enough, not do bad. Eventually, the pressure is too great, and I rebel.  When I quit trying so hard to be so good, when I quit trying to win the battle in my own strength, I suddenly see His power.  His power always wins.

This life isn’t about trying hard to do good on our own.  It’s about realizing there is nothing good in us apart from Him.  It’s about recognizing the totality of how sinful we truly are and seeing we are in desperate need of His amazing grace.  Moment by moment.  Then resting in His strength, not our own.

I don’t want to be a city with broken down walls.  Therefore, I must rely on Him.  I must fight out of His strength and not mine.

A Letter to My Sons: The Value of a Grandparent

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Dear Boys,

You have something unique.  It’s a treasure.  I think you know it, but really you won’t fully understand until you are a parent yourself.  You see you have grandparents.  Engaged, involved, loving, and compassionate grandparents.  You have grandparents who talk to you. Who play with you.  Who know you.  Who love you for one simple reason….for being you, simply you.

Sometimes I wonder if you take it for granted or if you really know the value of the treasure you hold.  But then I watch as a weekend visit comes to an end.  I see the tear-stained cheeks that tell the story of your reminiscent thoughts.  I hear you say you can’t bear to say goodbye even though you know another visit will be around the corner.  I see your eyes, and I know you treasure it deep.

Here’s the thing.  To love hurts.  Deeply.  To deeply love will deeply hurt.  But it’s a beautiful hurt at times.  What you experienced last weekend is a beautiful hurt.  It is a hurt to thank God for.

When you are with any of your grandparents, it’s the same and it’s different.  Each of them brings something completely different to your life, for which you should be grateful.  How precious that God would give you grandparents so radically different from each other and allow you to glean from so many different types and styles of people that love you simply for being you.

The part you don’t realize yet, you will see one day.  Right now you see them being silly with you, playing games, reading you stories, tickling you til you cry, and holding you tight.  I get to see something else.  I get to see something planted into your heart that over time the Lord will use.

What makes a grandparent so unique and unexplainable?  I think it is the perspective they come from at this stage of their lives.  You see they aren’t going through our daily routines anymore. But they’ve been there.  They aren’t juggling the schedules of multiple little lives.  But they’ve done it before.  They aren’t sleep deprived and exhausted from caring for little ones.  But they know that feeling all too well.

They aren’t over-analyzing each decision they make wondering how it impacts a little life in the future.  But they have, and they’ve come on the other side of it.  They aren’t fighting daily battles of the will.  But they have.  And now they can loosen up because they’ve seen what is worth it and what isn’t.

They have been where I am, they have experienced what I have experienced, and they have something to offer.  But for you, it’s really something quite unique.  You get to experience the beauty of a relationship with someone who loves you unconditionally that sees things through a unique lens.  A lens of experience and generations of love.  Because of their age and their experiences, they have gained wisdom which can be shared into your hearts.

Enjoy every single second you have with any of your grandparents.  Love each one as unconditionally as they love you. Cherish the unique way God has created each of them.  Just as they cherish the ways the Lord has made you.

I wish that I had been able to do what I am asking you to do.  To soak in every second you have with a generation that has so much to offer to you.  They are a gift from God to you. Always treat them with dignity and respect.  Even as you get older and begin to believe you know better or they (or we) don’t understand.  They do.  They were once your age….and they raised children once your age.  They’ve been there many times, and because of that, they are able to offer more than you can offer yourself.

Always remember that what you are feeling in your heart, this wrenching squeeze, they feel it harder.  Those tears you wish would stop, they shed more.  Remember that as much as you tell me you love them, it doesn’t come close to comparing to how much they love you.  Hard to imagine, right?  It’s true.  I remember believing it was impossible to love anyone as much as I loved my parents when I was a kid.  Then I had you boys.  That kind of love, the love of a parent for a child….well, I can’t explain it.  But I know that feeling. So I imagine the love of a grandparent is similar.  I imagine it’s a love that I believe I can imagine, but until I’ve experienced it, I can’t truly imagine it.  So just take it from me, you have no idea how much they love you.

I will end with this verse from Proverbs 20:29 “The glory of young men is their strength, gray hair the splendor of the old.”

Cherish all these memories up in your heart.  They are part of what is becoming of your story. Relationship is one of the keys to a beautiful life.  Never take for granted the relationship with a grandparent.  It is unlike any other.  Special in its own special way.  Just like each of you.

Love,

Mom

The Beautiful Life is Messy

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The beautiful life is the messy one.  It’s one you can’t plan for.  It’s one you can’t predict.  It’s one you can’t order or create a to-do list for.  It’s one you can’t control or organize.  It’s one that looks different than you envisioned.  Daily.

We live in North Carolina where snow is rare.  For the last 6 days life has been unplanned, off-schedule, and messy.  Very, very messy.  Messy in the literal and figurative.

5 people in the house together constantly means a constant mess.  Things left out, strewn everyone.  Kids hopping from one activity to another leaving their trail of fun in the process.  In and out, back and forth, snow melting in puddles on the kitchen floor, muddy tracks up the stairs, apple cores discovered in random places, piles and piles everywhere.

The snow that we received in North Carolina was expected and planned for.  But you can only plan and prepare to an extent.  The storm will do what it will do.  Snow dumped.  Depending on your perspective, it was a beauty or a complete nightmare.  The view from the bedroom window was one of peace and calm, sheer beauty.  If I were out in the elements or on the road, my view would have been fear and frustration.

Life can feel the same way at times.  Depending on where we are viewing the situation determines how we see.  We can plan and plan, try and try, but sometimes life just doesn’t look the way we intended or planned for.  In our parenting journey, this is a reality we come face to face with often.  The question is how we interact with it.

When we realized snow was coming, we planned for it.  We prepared to be in the house for a few days, and it was going to be amazing.  And it was.  Mostly.  But I was reminded on the very first afternoon how life rarely follows my directions.

I brought all the boys home early the afternoon the snow was to start.  In my mind I had all these plans and activities we could do while waiting for the snow.  Home not more than one hour and sibling bickering started.  By hour two I had separated all 3 boys into different rooms. Initially, I was frustrated.  This infringed on my plans.  They were ruining the fun I had planned for them.  This isn’t how today was supposed to look.  We should be laughing and playing.  Not fighting and crying. Not this early in the snow days at least.

I felt the Lord whispering.  Life will rarely look the way you anticipate.  Instructing their hearts is more important than creating fun memories.

Before I visited each room, I sat with the Lord for a few minutes.  I was disappointed.  My plans had changed and looked messier than I wanted.  I wanted a fun afternoon.  God gave me 4 messy hearts to tend to instead.  Over the last several years, God has little by little taken away my hard-core Type A.

Initially, I thought I could just do a quick little something like, “Boys this isn’t acceptable behavior.  Now be kind to each other.  Let’s go play.”  Behavior might have changed for the moment.  I would’ve gotten to play the games and activities I wanted.  It wouldn’t have taken much of my time.  It would’ve been easier in the moment.  But parenting has to take a long term view, even when it is so inconvenient in the process.

What I wanted to take 5 minutes ended up taking an hour.  I had private conversations with each boy, showing how his personal sin had provoked his brother to sin.  We looked up verses and prayed.  Privately.  Then we came together and discussed the whys.  Not the “you should or shouldn’t” but the why.  The who is God part of their behaviors.  God is love therefore….. God is truth therefore…..

It took a long time.  It was not convenient.  We never got to do what I had planned to do.  But it’s how God tends to deal with me.  I can get so channeled into my agenda and plans that I lose sight of the bigger picture.  Parenting is more than creating fun and lasting memories.  It’s molding a heart that is fully devoted to loving and serving God.  For my own heart, I tend to love Him more when I see the depth of my sin and feel His mercy and grace wash over me. I want the same for my kids.

So many of our days don’t look like Pinterest projects.  They look more like Pinterest fails. God takes the messy and makes something beautiful out of it.  For our snowcation, God showed me right at the beginning the time was His, not mine.  I was on His agenda, not mine. We had 6 days of a beautiful mess.

 

 

When I Find Myself Longing to See the Man At The Store

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The only time I make it to the local gourmet grocery store is when they have a particular Tuesday special.  It runs every few months, and during that month, I will visit at the beginning and end of  the month to stock up on the specials that I wait months for.

I find myself looking forward to seeing the man I know will bag my groceries.  I know what he will say to the cashier when he bags my groceries.  “I think this young lady came in for the Tuesday Specials. What do you think?”  I will smile and laugh the same way I do each time he says this.  The cashier will grin like she does every time.  If my boys are with me, he will say the same thing to me he says every time. “Some fine young men you’ve got with you today.”  I nod emphatically swallowing down the ‘Yes, yes I do!’

He’s the only grocery bagger I would allow to help me to my car.  I don’t need help.  I have 3 handy helpers with me, but this 80-something-year-old gentleman longs for the conversation.  I can tell.  He is a veteran.  I know nothing other than that, but that alone makes me admire and respect this man and want to linger a few more minutes than I need to.

Each time we have the same exchange.  I will tell him I can push the cart to my car.  He insists, “No, no, I want to help you.”  20 degrees doesn’t stop him.  He pauses to grab his hat, chuckles, and says, “I’m not stupid,” while he pulls it secure, covering his thin layer of hair.

I’m not sure why this man has secured a special place in my heart.  It may be because of his service to our country.  It may be his gentlemanly ways.  It may be the wisdom of life in those aged eyes.  It may be how he reminds me of Steve’s own grandpa who has a similar demeanor. It may be many things.  But the one thing he reminds me of is how much we were created for relationship.  How our souls yearn for human connection.

We all face many of the same struggles dressed in different clothes.  Underneath, we have all been created in the image of the Father, created for relationship and community.  This man reminds me of this in the most beautiful of ways.

On my most recent visit, I drove away pondering how much we could learn from our older generation.  As I turned the corner at the gas station, I noticed a group of older men laughing over a cup of coffee inside the back corner of the store.  No hurrying away.  Simply hanging at the gas station.  Relationship adds beauty to our moments we can’t create alone.

My boys weren’t with me on my last visit to the gourmet grocery store, but I told them I saw ‘our nice old man’.  I watched their faces as they reflected on the exchanges they’ve shared with him.  It doesn’t take much to touch a soul.  A little kindness.  A little authenticity.  A little connection.  A little something that says “I care.”

Filling Our Treasuries

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Psalm 117:2 “For great is his love toward us and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever. Praise the Lord”

There are moments that become etched into our souls for no obvious, apparent reason.  They find the spots that have remained a blank canvas.  What causes the ordinary moments to find that canvas inside of us?  Not the big moments, those are obvious.  But the ordinary ones.  The ones that don’t stand out for any reason in particular.

My 5-year-old’s eyes found that spot recently and painted a picture that will remain forever chiseled in my memory.  Those shiny blue eyes that whistle a carefree tune because the world is always bright through his eyes right now.  Those eyes grabbed me in a particular moment with the magnetic pull of his twinkling blues. Suddenly, I wanted to remember every detail of those eyes in that very moment.  I wanted to remember the way they danced in the sunlight on that exact day, in that exact spot.

With each lick of his vanilla coated spoon, I watched his eyes dance.  As he chewed hard those candy toppings, I listened to each smack.  His eyes told the story his mouth was too frozen to tell.

I soaked in all of him in that moment.  Praying hard to remember those chubby hands and how they gripped the spoon.  Listening on the edge of my seat as if on a first date.  Answering all the questions about what makes the ice cream come out of the machine, what are the lines on the ceiling for, where is the music coming from….is there a real person singing somewhere or is it coming from the mouth of the stuffed frog on the shelf.

I cherished every ounce of him in that moment.  Because I know soon a moment will come when I don’t have these kind of moments.  My moments will look different.  And I will miss these moments.

These are the moments that paint pictures into my soul.  These are the moments that will comfort my heart when seasons change.  These are the moments that are fleeting, so I cherish them.  These are the moments that form parts of our story.  I want each moment to count. These are the moments that are gifts from God, so I store them up and treasure them.  They remind me of His love and His faithfulness.

I want to build a storehouse in my heart.  I want a treasury  filled with these kind of moments. The small moments.  The ordinary moments.

I passed a church sign that read “A large heart can be filled with lots of small things.”  I want a large heart filled with all the moments that feel so small.  An accumulation of small moments can burst a heart wide open.

I sat down to write a post to link up to Holley Gerth’s link up with a writing prompt of “No matter what happens, you’re going to be ok because….”  But when I started writing, the sentence became ‘No matter what happens I’m going to be ok because.’  I needed to write this reminder to me.

But it holds true for you too.  It’s true for all of us.  No matter what happens, you and I are going to be ok because we have a choice with how we  fill the treasuries of our heart with the moments that paint a beautiful canvas for our soul.  We are going to be ok because we can choose to be fully present for the beauty of life in every moment we have, even the tiny specks of life.  We are going to be ok because we can choose to slow down, to say no, to savor and soak and linger.  We are going to be ok because the moments are endless and we have a choice in how we respond to them.

We are going to be ok even when we don’t believe it.  Our heart’s storehouse will remind us of all the ways He’s loved us and been faithful to us.

If you have rushed through these moments, don’t let the enemy bury you in regrets.  Each moment is new and fresh for the taking.  Each moment unfolds a new page to be written.

Treasure up these things in your heart today.  Build a storehouse.  Fill it brimming full, pushed down and poured out full of the little moments, the little beauties, the twinkling blues, and the candy smacks.  Fill it full of life lived fully, intentionally, and distraction-free.  And no matter what comes our way or how our seasons will change, our treasury will remind us we are loved and we are cherished.  Our treasury is proof of His love for us.

 Linking up with Holley Gerth on Wednesday.  Holley’s words always speak to my heart, and I’m sure they will speak to yours as well.  If you’ve never read Holley, I encourage you to go now.  You will love what you discover.

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