motherhood Archives - Page 23 of 32

30 Days to Enjoying Your Children More: Rest {Day 19}

Just joining us? You will find Day 1 of the series here.

When Daylight Saving Time ended about six weeks ago, I did not set my clocks back. I hate how it gets dark out at 4 pm, how my children are cranky for a week while they adjust to the new schedule, and how much more time my kids have to spend inside because night falls just as soon as they are finishing school. This year, I simply refused to participate.

We now operate by our own time.

This has worked out brilliantly for me. Using Glover Time, I never have to be out of the house before 10 am because that’s only 9 am to the rest of the Pacific Standard Time minions. My neighbors think I am an incredibly responsible person when my kitchen light turns on at 5:50 am. Yep, that’s me. Mrs. Morning Person with the five kids all dressed and memorizing Bible verses at 8 am.

The only hitch in my little rebellion against the Time Lords is Wednesday night. Wednesday night is when the kids and I go to our home group Bible study. Wednesday nights start at 7 pm in “real” time, which means we arrive at 8 pm Glover time. 8 pm Glover Time is bedtime, the only thing holy next to God. This is problematic.

But last week, I was relieve to find that the kids did not feel the least bit sleepy at the start of our home group. They did not feel the least bit sleepy when dessert was served or when the movie started. They did not feel the least bit sleepy as we drove home and counted Christmas lights.

But when we rolled in the driveway at 10:30 pm, Kya burst into tears. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I don’t know!” she wailed. “I just feel like crying!” She could not get out of the van. She was sobbing all over her new lilac colored puffy winter coat with matching accessories.

Micah had developed a sudden paralysis as well, which was unfortunate because his seat blocks the sliding door. Everyone waited.

“I can’t waaaaaaaaaalk,” he moaned.

“Micah! Ouch, stop pushing! I can’t get out! MOM! Micah won’t move!” My older two made their contributions to our Hallmark moment.

“Micah, come here,” I said, yanking him (it was a gentle yank) out of the car and tucking him under one arm.

“Mom! Don’t hurt me!” he wailed loudly enough to cause our neighbor to come to his window to see which of my children I was beating in the driveway.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, sweetie,” I said while fishing in the van with my free arm for the missing twin. “Paul, come here,” I said.

“I so TIRED, Mom!” Paul sighed, slumping down between his seat and mine where I could not reach him.

“I know you’re tired. But you need to get of the car first and I’ll get you all tucked into bed. Come here, Paul.” Paul obeyed but his lower lip stuck out and trembled. I scooped him up in my other arm and attempted to carry both boys up the front steps, even though I am painfully—I repeat, painfully—out of practice when it comes to carrying both boys up the front steps at the same time. Kya followed me, crying like I’d just told her she isn’t a real princess.

“Don’t worry, guys,” I gasped, wondering if my kids really would dial 911 if I passed out, or if they’d just jump on me. “I’ll have you cozy in a minute.”

But it took more than a minute to get everyone in bed. Kya wept over her toothbrush. Paul collapsed in the entryway and refused to take off his shoes. Micah face-planted onto the steps leading up to the bathroom where he moaned, “I tired…I tired…I tired…” to which Faith replied, “We heard you the first time!”

It was heartwarming, really. As I crashed into bed, I realized I had not even started my blog post for the next day. Not. Even. Started. It was supposed to be on enjoying my children, and specifically, weakness. That was funny, because the last half hour, I had absolutely cherished the socks off those little dumplings.

I should write on exhaustion, I thought. But I wasn’t quite ready to talk about it yet. I was secretly terrified that I had to get up in the morning and do this all over again. I had to teach school and parent alone and be alone and try to write what was on my heart in a way that wasn’t preachy or self-righteous or…fake. Also, I hadn’t shaved my legs in at least two weeks. Suddenly, that seemed important.

Vince Lomabrdi once said, “Exhaustion makes cowards of us all.” If by “coward” he meant “paranoid schizophrenic,” then yes. That quote is spot-on. Exhaustion was wreaking havoc in my home.

The opposite of exhaustion is rest. That’s something I used to get before I had children. In fact, before I had children, I didn’t have to think about rest much at all because it was usually available to me whenever I needed it. Now, it is something I have to find.

In the Bible, rest is equated with blessing, promise, and God’s favor. It is hope for the future. But it is also a command. I used to wonder why God commanded us to rest. Rest is one of our most basic needs as human beings, like food. We need deep, daily, restorative rest. God doesn’t need to tell us that.

Or does He?

The command to rest highlights the fact that there is something in our nature that fights it. We get squirrely about going to bed on time and resting in quiet devotion to God. In fact, we tend to do everything else first. We see it in Psalm 23, where God has to make us to lie down in green pastures.

We see it also in the church. We love the Ten Commandments, except that one about the Sabbath. That one no longer applies to us today, we say, and dispose of the beauty, grace, and gift of the Sabbath along with the Law. We want to fix people by plugging them into programs or doling out Scripture verses when often what they need is rest, true physical and spiritual rest.

We see it in our homes. We stay up too late working, pushing bedtime farther and farther back while we struggle to fit more into a day than a day can hold. When we have time, we tend to equate rest and relaxation, or worse, rest and entertainment. They are not the same things.

Rest is a discipline.

It is taking the time to restore our bodies and our souls. It means going to bed on time. It means humbling ourselves in quiet reflection before God. Those two things do not happen in front of the TV or at a BBQ with the neighbors. Rest takes work.

One of the greatest things we can do to foster our enjoyment of our children is to guard our times of rest. The very practical aspect of making sure your children go to bed on time and get enough rest (note to self) will work wonders on making them more enjoyable. Ensuring your own rest time will make you more enjoyable.

When I am tempted to overextend myself and fight against rest (which is often), I think of Jesus. Throughout the New Testament, we find him slipping away, even though the crowds of needy people pressed in around him and followed him wherever he went. Imagine that. There he is, the Savior of the World, the one who can fix all their hurts, heal their diseases, raise their dead—and he leaves them with their hands outstretched so he can go take a nap.

I think Jesus knew the intimacy between body and soul. He knew it is very difficult to have a restful soul without a rested body. Rest was essential to his ministry and to his health. He understood that he could not help any of those people if he was not restored in body and spirit. So he slept. And he prayed. He took the time to rest so he was equipped to do the work God had for him.

Surely, if the Son of God can leave blind men and beggars to rest, I can leave the dishes in the sink and go to bed on time. Surely, if the Son of God can find time to pray when all the world was waiting for him to do a work, I can find the time to settle my soul down with my Savior, even if it means saying no to entertainment or relaxation or leaving before the party has ended. Surely, if the Son of God needed to rest in order to do his best for those he loved, I do as well.

He restores my soul

Please join us tomorrow for Day 20: Food

For further thought:

1) Using a tool like www.biblegateway.com, search for the word “rest.” Notice how often the word is equated with a blessing. Do you view rest as a blessing or an obligation?

2) When was the last time you restored your soul by resting in God? Today, make it a point to get away with God for ten minutes. Pray. Rest in the promises of His Word. You will find yourself more equipped to love and enjoy your children for the rest of the day.

3) How is rest like an act of faith?

Bonus: Sometimes, we don’t get the rest we think we need and it can become an idol in our lives. If you have this struggle, you might want to read Counting the Hours, a story I wrote about that very thing.

30 Days to Enjoying Your Children More: Strength {Day 17}

Just joining us? You will find Day 1 of the series here.

“Through all the world there goes one long cry from the heart of the artist:

Give me leave to do my utmost.”

—Karen von Blixen-Finecke, Babette’s Feast

Daniel was a slight, dark-haired young man with heavy-rimmed glasses and an apologetic slouch. He had an easy but awkward smile, unusual mannerisms, and odd outbursts of energy. He was quirky and artistic, two qualities that sometimes endeared him to people, and sometimes didn’t.

Daniel was a music major, a pianist, I thought, but I had never heard him play. It was likely he had some talent because the music program was rigorous and extremely competitive. But he had none of the confidence of a man with talent. He had the rumpled look of a guy who ate cereal for dinner and didn’t bother to match his socks. Whenever I saw him plowing his way across campus alone with a bag of music slung across his shoulder, I felt a pang of pity. He was a really nice guy. It just didn’t show.

As part of his graduation requirements, Daniel had to give a concert during his senior year. It was going to be held in the chapel, and the entire student body was invited. It was Daniel’s job to promote his own concert, so I made it a point to attend along with a group of our mutual friends. We were going to be his fan club. If anyone needed a fan club, Daniel did.

The lights in the auditorium were dim when Daniel walked out on stage. It was not exactly a grand entrance. Even a tuxedo could not hide the fact that Daniel was not at home in the spotlight. He wouldn’t even look at the audience but kept his head down and his arms held rigidly at his sides as he walked to the baby grand at center stage. It hurt to watch.

Daniel attached himself to the piano bench and ran his fingers quietly over the keys like he was reminding himself that he had seen them before. I couldn’t breathe.

Then Daniel lifted his hands and the notes filled the room. No one had told me that Daniel couldn’t play the piano.

He commanded it.

The entire auditorium resounded with the music of a master. His body rocked back and forth over the keys, his own flesh owning the music. Daniel’s stiff, clammy fingers came alive like they had been waiting, dormant, for just that moment. They flew fast and hard, radiating scores of memorized Rachmaninoff until his fingers began to bleed. Daniel paused to wrap them in bright white tissues and continued to play as if he was unconscious of the hindrance or the sacrifice.

When the music stopped and the roar of cheers rose up to the roof, Daniel stood, laughing an awkward laugh, and fidgeting with his now-useless fingers. His face radiated glory. Those of us who knew and cared about him were overcome. It was as if we had just met Daniel for the very first time, as if, for a brief moment, we were allowed to see him as he was created to be. It was glorious.

When I became a mother, I felt awkward and insecure, like Daniel walking around a campus where he was always out of place. I saw other mothers thriving in their role while I languished. I felt like God had misunderstood the clay that I am and had shaped me into the wrong vessel. Every day, it was all of weakness. Every day, it was hard.

It was not all terrible, of course, but I felt like an expatriate in a foreign country. Some of the scenery was beautiful and I came to love my new home, but even as the years passed, it was pretty obvious I wasn’t a native.

Then one day, when the twins were just over a year old, my husband asked me to make a costume for an event at the school where he taught. It was such a simple thing, a costume. But to me, it was profound. I had complete creative license. I could do whatever I wanted, whatever I could think of. It was such a gift, to be able to create. In the chaos that was the first year with twins, I had not had the time to think, much less create. I felt like I was coming home, like I was standing on a stage with an instrument that could communicate my soul. I felt like myself for the first time in what seemed like forever.

For many of us, the process of becoming a mother means laying aside some of the things we are most capable of and taking on a whole bunch of weakness. It is beautiful to be weak. But it is also exhausting and discouraging because we were not made only for weakness. We were made also to be strong. It sounds like an impossible juxtaposition, but it is not. It is a mystery. It is the mystery of God and man in one. In our weakness, we identify with Christ in His humanity. In our strength, we identify with Him in His deity. The two things, weakness and strength, work together in us to complete the incredible privilege of being ambassadors of Christ in this world.

By virtue of being human, each one of us has the awesome privilege and responsibility of being image-bearers of God. We carry about in our being something of the face of God. This is seen in our desire to create and be creative, to rule and tame, to subdue and to solve. In every single one of us, God has given slivers of glory in the form of gifts and abilities that are meant to reflect His greater perfection. The more we use our gifts with godly excellence, the more clearly we reflect Him.

It is a false humility to think that we cannot use our strengths for God, or that we should somehow restrain them. Not only are those gifts meant to be used, they must be used in the most excellent way possible. They are the things that build up our family, complete the body of Christ, and fulfill us. We were meant to do the things God made us to do, and when we are given the opportunity to do those things unbounded we feel a sense of deep satisfaction and contentment.

The turning point in my mothering came when I embraced the fact that my strengths were meant to be used in conjunction with my weakness. I had put my gifts on hold, so to speak, because I was so consumed with the struggle of motherhood. It did not occur to me that the most excellent way to use my gifts was by pouring them into the home where God had placed me, in the most excellent calling of loving my children and husband.

When I unbound myself of how I thought God was going to use my strengths and began to use my strengths where God had actually called me, I found joy.

This ministry does not look like I thought it would. It is a lot stickier, and a lot more glorious, than that. Because what I thought God would do was only glory. It was only strength. But here, in this home where strength and weakness meet, the glory is very clearly not my own. My profound awkwardness testifies to the fact that any strength I have is simply a gift of God.

Amazingly, when I use my strengths to the glory of God, I get to share in the glory too. I get to stand at center stage and enjoy the opportunity to be who I was created to be. It is like having the privilege of speaking my native tongue in a foreign land. It is the enjoyment of strength in weakness.

Please join us Monday for Day 18!

For further thought:

1) Read Romans 12:6. What are we supposed to do with the gifts God has given us?

2) Ephesians 2:10 reminds us that we are God’s workmanship, created to do the good works which He ordained for us to do. Why is it sometimes hard to embrace your strengths and do the things you are best at?

3) When I am feeling most discouraged as a mother, it is usually an opportunity for strength and weakness to work. If you are having trouble enjoying your children today, first pray and seek God’s help. Then, think of ways to serve your children through your strengths. Perhaps you are good at planning activities, inventing a game, baking cookies or building a blanket fort. Do what you are good at and watch how God encourages your heart.

30 Days to Enjoying Your Children More: Weakness {Day 16}

Looking for Day 1? Find it here.

It all started because the kids wanted flashlights so they could read in bed. I was hesitant at first. Sure, flashlights are fun and reading is commendable, but I balked at the idea of giving my kids anything that required batteries. I knew what would happen. They would forget to turn the lights off before falling asleep and the batteries would be dead by morning. I imagined ourselves going through dozens of coppertops in the first week alone.

Then I found a solution: hand-crank flashlights. It was a brilliant concept. The batteries were kid-powered. All the kid had to do was use some of his boundless energy to turn a handle on the flashlight and the light would come on. No batteries required!

We added them to the kids’ Christmas lists.

On Christmas morning, both Faith and Jonathan received flashlights. But someone had read the memo wrong because Faith’s flashlight did not have a crank. It was solar-powered.

A solar flashlight? Hadn’t we heard jokes about solar flashlights? I took it out of the package and placed it in the dim light of a cloudy windowsill to charge. I didn’t expect much. There is no sun in Seattle. There’s just high cloud cover. It would be a miracle if the thing charged. I hoped she wouldn’t be too disappointed.

That night, we could hear Jonathan frantically winding his flashlight. When he pushed a button, a soft light came out. It was nice. But it didn’t last very long because he was too little to turn the handle fast enough or long enough to power up the battery. Pretty soon, he was trotting upstairs to ask for help. Daddy gave it a whirl. So did I. We wound that thing until our arms hurt. The light was brilliant then, but it lasted less than half-an-hour before it slowly dimmed to nothing.

Faith took her flashlight off the windowsill, pushed the button, and BAM! Her room was filled with a radiant light that lasted far into the night. I couldn’t believe it! She snuggled into bed, happy as could be. Hours later, when I went in to check on her, the flashlight was still shining strong beside her while she slept.

We discovered that even on the cloudy days, the brightness of the sun was able to permeate the atmosphere and charge that little flashlight. On the sunny days, the battery got super-charged and lasted for days. All Faith had to do was remember to put her flashlight on her windowsill and every night, she had light.

No matter how hard Jonathan cranked his flashlight, he simply could not compete with Faith. He gave it a valiant effort but eventually, the crank broke off. The flashlight couldn’t be charged without the crank, so we had to throw it away.

The weakness of Faith’s flashlight was that it was completely dependent on the sun to operate. The weakness of Jonathan’s was that it was completely dependent on human strength to operate. At first, we thought Faith’s flashlight was the weaker of the two, but its dependency on the sun turned out to be its greatest strength. The other’s dependency on human power ended up being its greatest downfall.

As mothers, we are like lights in our home. Our ministry is that of shining the light of the gospel so those around us can see the face of Christ. The question is, which kind of light are we?

Too often, I am like the hand-powered flashlight. I get up in the morning and I do my best to power through my day because I somehow think that my dim little light can offer something to the sun. I think it is more commendable if I can do it myself.

I go about my day, whirling away at that incompetent handle trying to get enough energy to do the dishes and the laundry. Heaven help me if someone needs extra help with math because I’ll have to crank a little longer to get through that. I know I should be brighter and my light should shine farther, especially on the days when my kids are sick or things don’t go well, so I crank all the harder. But all I get is exhaustion. Life as a crank flashlight is not enjoyable.

It is also not a picture of the gospel. That kind of light is not the light of Christ. It is the light of Kristen, and it is dim by comparison. It is a gospel of works, which is no gospel at all. When I behave that way, I am showing my children that when life gets hard or overwhelming, the thing to do is to power through on your own strength, to strive for perfectionism whatever the cost, and to “Keep calm and carry on!”

Even if you have to ditch the calm part, at least carry on.

What a different thing it is when I am more like the solar flashlight, when the kids come down and find me reading my Bible even though there’s a pile of dishes in the sink and I haven’t gotten out of my sweats. What a difference it would be if, instead of powering through a math lesson, I said, “You know what? I’m getting frustrated. Let me take a few minutes to pray.” What if, when I am sad or overwhelmed, I don’t plaster a fake smile on my face but I let my kids see that the thing to do in situations like that is to tap into the power I have available to me in Christ.

What a beautiful, powerful light that would be! They would see that their mother is nothing but an empty vessel, filled up with Christ. I am like a solar flashlight. I have no power on my own. I have no light apart from the Son.

That is what my children need to see and hear from me because that is truth. If I try to minister to them out of strength, I am selling them the lie of self-sufficiency. The truth of the matter is that my children do not need to see that I can get it all done and keep it all together. What my children need to see more than anything is that I can’t. And neither can they.

Weakness is going to be their lot in life, just as much as it is mine. Not one of my children will ever reach perfection. Ever! The best they can hope for is to be somewhat successful. But even if they are successful by the world’s standards, their lives will be marked with failure. Clay is weak, and we are clay. They will be discouraged, overwhelmed, frustrated, defeated, and a myriad of other things that can’t be powered through by human strength.

When I depend on Christ, my kids get to see the solution to all the weaknesses they’ll have to face in their lives. They will be witness to the fact that the only source of strength is Christ alone. In that truth, I can rest and enjoy my children, confident of the fact that the very smallest amount of Christ’s work on my behalf is worth far more than I could ever do on my own. If I have done nothing more than been a weak vessel for His glorious light to shine through, I have done enough. May we all choose to be that kind of vessel today.

Please join us tomorrow for Day 17: Strength

For further thought

1) Read 2 Corinthians 4:5-7. Are you preaching yourself to your children, or Christ?

2) Based on the passage above, why is it so important to embrace weakness? What can we show in our weakness that is impossible to show in our strength?

3) Be intentional about sharing your weaknesses with your children today, but only if you are committed to allowing Christ to fill up what is lacking in you. Take the time to pray when frustrated, read the Bible when you are tired, or praise when you feel afflicted. Let your children see how powerful weakness can be!

« Previous Page