a mama's touch

It seems to be a pretty common parenting experience to have some pretty intense emotion around the whole teaching kids to ride a bike thing. I'm no different.

The weather has been beautiful this week, it seems like maybe summer is really arriving. Bumble Bee has been doing pretty well on her bike (with training wheels), so yesterday I suggested that we take a trip to the bank, which is about a mile from our house. Bumble Bee on her bike, me pushing the stroller while Monkey checks out all the scenery and munches green puffs. I was smart enough to leave the dog at home.

I had my doubts. I also had my hopes.

I was running to keep up, the whole way there. It was the quintessential proud mama moment. She was zooming. And she wanted to be in front. "Let me go first!" Not a single fall. To cap it all off, most of the ride I heard an exuberant "Rrrrrrrrrrr!" coming from her. Making zooming noises really does make you go faster, you know.

I kept asking, the whole way there, how are you feeling? Do you think you can pedal a lot farther? Will you be able to turn around and go home?

Yes, she said.

This story could turn into a hilarious account of me attempting to push a (non-jogging) stroller while dragging along a bike and a tired out cranky three year old. That might actually be a funnier and more impressive blog post.

Thankfully for me, that's not what happened.

We made it to the bank, and you've never seen someone more excited to use the fancy machine to make a deposit (Bumble Bee, not me, of course).

We lolled on a grassy spot for a few minutes, eating string cheese and fruit leather and guzzling water. It was hot!

And then we started back. Bumble Bee was a little slower, but still pretty perky. Until...

"Mys all done."

"Oh, nope, you can't be all done. If you don't pedal we have no way to get your bike home. We can go slower and take breaks if we need to, but you have to keep pedaling. You can do hard things." (I started saying this to Bumble Bee after reading a few blog posts. Great motto for kids who are prone to saying "I can't do it.")

The best part came when we were about half way home. She had resolved herself to riding, and was doing AWESOME. We came to a little hill and she leaned forward over the handle bars and grunted, and I could tell it was hard.

I gently placed my hand on her back and gave a slight push. Up the hill she went. I really didn't even push her, just left my hand on her back. At the top I took my hand off. I was pushing Monkey in the stroller, after all.

A few paces farther.

"Mama? Put your hand on my back please?"

That was my moment. We rode most of the rest of the way home like that. Bumble Bee pedaling hard, my hand resting on her back. Not helping really, just assuring her that I was there, that I believe in her ability to do this.

And because I am me and like to get philosophical at odd times, I thought - this is parenting, right here. Baby, I will be with you every step of the way, through whatever comes in your life. You have to do the work, and sometimes it will be hard, painful work. But I will put my hand on your back and remind you that I am always and forever on your team.

In the end, she made it the whole way. I was bursting. (A really cool blogger would have a picture to post here, but I still do not have a smart phone and the camera on my little thing is pretty bad. Someday I will remember to bring our real camera on outings like this.)

Hard work, plus a mama's hand. And a chocolate chip cookie waiting for her at home didn't hurt anything either.

dedication

A couple weeks ago we stood in front of our church and dedicated our 6 month old baby boy. (Yes, that is why I hardly ever post a new blog these days - who has time to sit and write, with a 3 year old and a 6 month old?). The dedication was sweet and meaningful and good. We were asked to say a few things about Monkey, and of course being nervous, I didn't say what I really wanted to. So here it is.

Monkey is my sweet boy, who loves to cuddle. He loves to be right against my heart, and sleeps most peacefully tucked against me. He also is so ready to be big! He's wanted to stand upright almost since he was a newborn infant, and loves to look and watch big sister Bumble Bee and all the things she can do. His laugh melts my heart, and he responds most to funny noises and faces. He loves when I blow raspberries at him, or make squeaking sounds. He's getting into blocks and will sit upright for long periods. He's also getting around by rolling pretty well, and I have to keep my eye on him more carefully.

As I thought about what it means to dedicate a child, it carries much more meaning for me now than it did when we dedicated Bumble Bee. We believe baptism should come upon a person's confession of belief in Jesus, so we don't baptize a baby, but instead we dedicate them to God. We stand and acknowledge that this child is a creation of God, given to us as a gracious gift to enjoy and train up into a man or woman after God's own heart. But really, beyond dedicating the child, we are once again standing to dedicate ourselves. Dedicate ourselves to follow Jesus in our parenting, to pray for his wisdom and patience and kindness.

Parenting is the most humbling thing I have ever done. As Bumble Bee is now 3 and we are experiencing more of the character-forming part of parenting now, I am brought low pretty much every day.

I come to the end of myself so quickly.

Me, alone, in my strength - I can't get very far.

I need Jesus. I need his Spirit inside me to help me see the heart inside the child who is whining and crying because I am making her wear pants underneath her dress in 40 degree weather.

So we dedicate ourselves to continue to love Jesus, to seek him, to pray, to read Scripture, to be with his people and to invite him into our family life. We dedicate our children because they belong to Jesus and he has a plan and purpose for their life that we get to participate in as their parents. We dedicate the whole of parenting, because our end goal is that our children would know Jesus - and that is a task no human parent can achieve without the Spirit.

Jesus, help me be a mom who points my children to you.

the weary world rejoices

I'm a little addicted to Pinterest, and the only way I can rationalize it is that I actually do go back and try recipes or make crafts (at least some of them). This Christmas, inspired by a posting on Pinterest (I have no idea how to give proper credit to the original poster/creator, but know that a much more original and creative person than I am was the first to make something like this), I painted a canvas to rest behind our nativity scene.

We live, today, in a weary world. I probably don't need to detail the reasons why our world is tired, aching, troubled. My petty troubles pale in comparison to shooting rampages or issues of poverty, hunger, sexual exploitation, or any other number of sickening truths about our society. Does it ever seem that God is silent? Even though I believe in Jesus with my whole heart, there are moments when I wonder what is God doing? How can this happen? Where is he?

Go back 2,000 years and not much has changed. The world had forgotten God, the prophets had ceased speaking, ceased calling people back to faith. Silence. Pain. Trouble.

But it was into this world that Jesus was born. And there was much cause for rejoicing. God was not silent, he had not forgotten his people, his plan had been in motion all along, and now, finally it was time for the Prince of Peace to enter the scene.

The weary world rejoices!

I think that at it's heart, the celebration of Christmas must be about Jesus stepping into the darkness of our lives.

He steps into the hard places, he enters the loneliness, the injustice, the pain, and he says "Here I am."

This has hit me even more powerfully after the events in Connecticut. It is only because of Jesus entering in, Emmanuel, God with us, that I can have hope. This Christmas, I want so much to teach my children that this season is about remembering and celebrating that we do not need to remain in the weary world without a Shepherd to guide us.

He came, and the world rejoiced.

He comes to you still, and still the world has cause to celebrate.

a different kind of worship

So, it's been awhile. :) Our son Monkey arrived at the end of August, and we're in the midst of the transition.

Beautiful. Joyful. Precious.

Heart-wrenching. Painstaking. Hard.

You know how when you talk with people, and they tell you something is hard, but you just don't really know, do you?

As I was sitting on the couch yesterday, nursing a baby who was having trouble settling into the rhythm and cradling a crying toddler (because "mommy, pick me up!" is an impossibility when one has a baby on the breast), God brought these words to mind and I will cling to them:

This is a different kind of worship. A different kind of service.

There is nothing quite like standing in our church, raising my hands in worship; the beautiful truths of Scripture flowing from my lips in song, while my daughter nestles her head against my shoulder, or my infant son sleeps soundly in my arms.

How about standing in the hallway outside my daughter's bedroom, breathing deeply to control my impatience with her whining, while the baby cries out from the next room? The fruit of the Spirit is... Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Gentleness. Self-control.

What about the creative play on the floor? The glue sticks bought for more craft projects? The clumpy and unevenly spread peanut butter and jelly sandwich that your 2 1/2 year old wants to make "all by myself" that would get made oh-so-much-faster if mommy wrestled the table knife away?

Whatever you do unto the least of these, you do unto Jesus.

There is holiness in this work.

This is worship. This is service. Broken and poured out, again and again, all day long, for two precious little kiddos.

God's household

A friend gave me a daily devotional a couple months back, and I recently picked it up and have been loving the beautiful words and daily Scripture readings. This verse really spoke to me this week:

Psalm 27:4 The Message

I'm asking God for one thing,
only one thing:
To live with him in his house
my whole life long.
I'll contemplate his beauty;
I'll study at his feet.

The imagery of living with God in His house is so poetic. Can you picture it? Coming downstairs in the morning to see God sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of orange juice, gathering around a HUGE rich wooden table laden with good things to eat, each member pitching in to help with the household chores. Idyllic, peaceful, harmonious... in today's near 100 degree heat and being 37 weeks pregnant, it seems pretty perfect.

Now. I'm well aware this is probably not what the psalmist had in mind when penning this psalm. Written in the Jewish context, this likely was a reference to the Temple, where God's people gathered to worship Him. Today, the church usually reads this verse as an encouragement to desire to remain in God's presence, despite our physical location of being at work, home, church, wherever. But go with me a minute.

In a household, there are rules (guidelines, whatever you want to call them). Some spoken, some not. We abide with other members of the household, each playing a role, doing our part. In our humanity, it's messy. We don't always get it right. Actually ,we often get it wrong. But there is a certain way of doing things, of approaching things, that is expected. There is a culture to our home.

As I consider my longing to live with God in His house, am I being mindful of His rules? His guidelines, the "culture" of that household? Isn't this what I mean when I say I am trying to live a Christian life - abide by His precepts, His desires for me, His ways and purposes? It's not so different from being part of a household. The household (body) of Christ.

One of the pieces to being part of God's household is looking at life and my circumstances with a God-perspective. A few months back I took part in a women's Bible study, and one of the huge things that really convicted me was the necessity of looking at the world with God tinted lenses. Using His Truth to filter our experiences through. I am not talking about evaluating science through a biblical worldview. This is not the age-old-I'm-so-done-with-it-God-did-it-somehow-and-who-cares-how argument of creation versus evolution. I am talking about the day in day out grit of life. When we face things that are hard, even devastating and crushing, we need to see it through God's Truth. And when we face things that are beautiful and rich and satisfying, we still need to see it through God's Truth.

Welcoming a new baby into a home while my husband seeks a new job to better support his family, while receiving rejection letter after rejection letter, all the while pretty much hating his current workplace? Uncertain of how my own maternity leave with end, seeing roadblocks instead of options? I feel pretty desperate some days. But I cling to the hope that with God tinted lenses, this is an opportunity for us to see Him provide in His ways, His timing, for His purposes. He is GOOD. HE IS ALWAYS GOOD. Does this mean it will work out like we expect and hope? No. But He is good.

The death of a beloved Grandpa, father, father-in-law? Terrible. Maybe even with God tinted lenses it is terrible, after all, we weren't really created to endure death, death is the result of the fall. But with God-tinted lenses, it has also been an opportunity to love and grow closer to a Grandma, mother, mother-in-law. It has been an opportunity to serve, and be served, by a lovely woman who has much to teach and share.

How about something wildly thrilling, like the beauty of good friends and community? A chance for us to enjoy good company? Yes, absolutely. But with God-tinted lenses, it's also a chance to invite others who need this same fellowship, who need people to live life with them, who don't have people to call on.

Too bad I can't buy God-tinted lenses at the store. It's hard. I struggle to orient myself correctly to view the minutes and hours of my day with this in mind. It's a daily prayer, to wake up remembering that I am a member of God's household, living in His home, abiding in His ways.

Studying at His feet.

a glimpse of the Father's heart

Luke 15: 20-24

The younger son got up and started back to his father. But when he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt sorry for him. He ran to his son and hugged and kissed him. The son said, “Father, I have sinned against God in heaven and against you. I am no longer good enough to be called your son.” But his father said to the servants, “Hurry and bring the best clothes and put them on him. Give him a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. Get the best calf and prepare it, so we can eat and celebrate. This son of mine was dead, but has now come back to life. He was lost and has now been found.”

And they began to celebrate.

This afternoon I stood in the driveway and waved good-bye to my 2 1/2 year old and husband. A camping trip was just not something this 35 weeks pregnant mommy could do, so it's a daddy-daughter weekend trip, with me joining just for the day on Saturday. I haven't had a weekend to myself like this in at least 3 years, and while I've been anticipating the freedom, and leisure, the sleeping in (oh, the sleeping in!), my heart caught in my throat as I watched them drive away, praying safety and protection, joy and good memories over them.

I missed the bright presence of my daughter almost immediately, and was glad to have things I wanted to do that took me out of the house for the first part of the day. It's too big and empty without them here, something is so obviously missing.

How must the Father's heart break when His children turn away?

No wonder the father in Luke 15 saw his lost son returning home, even while he was still a long way off. He'd never stopped waiting, hoping, praying, anticipating the joyous return of his child.

Whether we wander for years or our hearts stray only momentarily, God the Father is just waiting to celebrate our return to His embrace.

when God shows up

If you've been in church for any number of years, I imagine you've experienced some Sunday worship services that send your heart soaring with love and thankfulness. I also imagine that you have sat through plenty of services where instead of focusing on the words of the songs, the depth of the sermon, you're planning the schedule for the week, worrying over various big or small life circumstances, or, let's be honest, catching up on facebook. Don't deny it - I've been there.

Today was one of those Sundays where my mind was prone to wandering. I have a very (stress, very) amateur musical background, and I know just enough about worship, church practices, and theology to make me dangerously critical when I get in that mood. I'm not proud of it. It is just is. I try hard to bury it, but sometimes it creeps out.

We attend a small church. Most of the time, I love that. We don't have a lot of show, if you know what I mean. No fancy lights, no huge worship band, nothing that shouts of trying to create an emotional high that ushers people into God's presence. I am an occasional vocalist for our worship team, and while we have some amazing and talented musicians, we're pretty humble.

Whatever place I was in this morning did not lead me to embrace the humility of our little band of Jesus followers.

But you know what? God showed up.

In the midst of the congregation's hesitant (read - less than enthusiastic) response to the singing, a few sort of awkward moments, there was a stirring of hearts, a swelling of voices raised to the King. A testimony was shared, a young man moved to share about something God was doing in his life. Our pastor spontaneously adapted sermon plans and prayer times to make room for God's work. It was that thing that you can only describe as the sense that God was moving. He was there, in our midst. The Spirit of God descending on people who had gathered to declare their love and praise to Him. I found myself experiencing the grace of those moments, laid bare a bit for my judgment and hard-heartedness.

Micah 6:8 is fast becoming a favorite verse, as it crops up here and there: "He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?"

He does not require a fancy church service to draw people to Him. He does not require loud worship. He does not require a charismatic sermon filled with pithy one-liners.

He requires a people with hearts lifted to Him, ready to anticipate His movement in their lives and in the world. Ready to respond with love and grace.