Post Category → motherhood

joy: delight in His will

“I delight to do Your will, O my God.”

Why do I lose joy?

Perhaps because I need to be freshly filled with the Spirit.

And perhaps because I need to be reminded: it is the Lord Christ whom I serve. Seasons come and go, but joy doesn’t have to when I realize that I am called, fundamentally, to serving Jesus. Yes, I love this wonderful family! Yes, I love being a mother. I do! — far more than I ever could have imagined. But the thing that has continually been a source of joy, through every season, high and low, has been this: Doing the will of my Father. Knowing that I’m doing what God has asked me to do, and delighting in serving Him.

My soul delights to do God’s will. It just does. And sometimes, the cherubic face of my sleeping 3 year old just won’t cut it: my soul needs to know that I’m doing the will of God. No matter how menial the task, how exhausting the day, how buried the seed, I can find joy in the secret communion of my soul with Him: This is for You, Jesus.

And He smiles.

That brings joy.

joy: a fruit

There are just way too many nights that find me fried, frustrated, and happy to just hurry up and end the day. Usually that frazzled state of soul takes me by surprise — a quiet, peaceful, well-paced morning somehow just spirals slowly but surely, and suddenly I’m Mean Mama. Anybody? Just me?

It happens way too often. I’d reached Frazzled Status last night on our way out the door, and when I landed with three kids at church, I was strung tighter than a piano string. (I always think of that metaphor, because I can only imagine the damage one of those HUGE bass strings could inflict if it suddenly snapped. Not that me snapping ever does any damage. *wink*) Somehow, somewhere, my soul had a chance to take a deep breath, and the idea of joy came to mind. Joy. I want to be joyful. I have the best job in the world, you know? Why do I sometimes so lack joy?

Left to myself, I would rectify this situation in one of two ways:

— Berate myself for my lack of joy. Look at the three beautiful faces of my children, faces so quick to smile at me with twinkling eyes full of love, and say to myself, “What’s wrong with you? Get joy!” Wonder if they think I lack joy. Wonder if my husband thinks I lack joy. Wonder how terrible I am. Yup, I’m terrible. (Is this approach getting me any closer to joy?)

— Decide to be joyful. That’s it — from now on, I will be joyful. I will look for joy in my every day, because I know it’s there — it is! (Really! It is!) I just have to snap out of my Frazzled Status and see it, live in it, take it in, pour it out.

But there’s another conclusion. A better one. The error in my first approach is obvious. The error in the second is more subtle. See, joy is a fruit. Fruit is the result of the life of the Spirit. (We all know this, right? But maybe you have as much trouble living it as I often do.) I cannot bear fruit on my own. And when I get sidetracked with pursuing fruit, I end up frustrated and empty handed.

The answer is Jesus.

Instead of just looking for joy in my every day, I need to look for chances to say YES to the Holy Spirit. Yes, Holy Spirit, fill me, change me, be my source. Yes, I’ll meditate on Your Word, listen for Your voice, respond to Your guidance. Yes, I’ll sing a song of praise, put off heaviness, exalt You above this moment.

I want to be continually filled with the Spirit, continually looking at Jesus, continually experiencing the power of His salvation. Then there is joy. (And love, peace, patience, kindness…)

back in shape

Today, I realize how out of shape my soul is when it comes to spiritual work. (Ironically, this closely mirrors the physical reality of my current condition. Three kids has been fun, but exercise has been soooo far from my mind.)

And I know — give myself a break, right? I’m a mom of young kids. My days fly by in a blur of cuddling babies and pulling out my hair. It’s life right now. But here’s the thing: I hear, “Just do the best you can, ” and I translate that as, “You’re off the hook. Worry about it later.”

But I know better: it doesn’t work that way.

The “I’ll worry about it later” philosophy (in reference to spiritual things) assumes that the only thing against me is my own flesh. I’ll just put dealing with selfishness on the back burner for now; how much worse can it get, right?

Wrong. Because there’s something else against me. Someone. He doesn’t get a lot of attention in mommy blogs or popular parenting books, but that’s okay with him. He’d rather skulk around in the shadows, doing what he’s best at: making us forget he’s there.

Yes, I’m talking about the devil.

Because yes, he’s real. He’s out to destroy, and my kids, my husband, me — we’re all on his hit list. He seems to be unflagging in his energy and drive, too, which means while I’m giving myself a 9 month postpartum vacation, he’s taking advantage of every opportunity to whisper lies to my soul, doubt to my kids, seeds of destruction in my family.

I’m reminded the other night, as two older moms (mine included!) talk about standing strong for your family, that this warfare I’m called to do isn’t complicated. I do have three young kids. Fly-by days are my reality. His yoke is easy, His burden light — but it is still a yoke, and there’s still a field to plow. Jesus didn’t invite me to pluck daisies in the meadow with Him. And I’m challenged afresh: when an older mom says, “Do the best you can,” I need to do the best I can.

I need to pray in tongues…
I need to lift up my family to the Lord…
I need to read, memorize, and meditate on the Word — the sword, the truth that will protect and deliver me when the battle gets fierce…
I need to sing…
More.

Those aren’t hard things. They’re not easy, either (and there’s an enemy who wants to keep it that way.) But this isn’t a 3 hour quiet time regimen.

It’s doing the best I can: Scribbling a verse on a 3×5, making all the kids sit with a Bible story for 10 minutes so I can read, playing a worship song over the morning craziness of breakfast prep, praying every time I wash dishes.

Do I feel better when I’m working to include the disciplines of Christianity in my life? Yes. Do I feel better because it makes me a “better” Christian, or because I think God will be mad at me if I don’t journal for 3 months straight? Goodness, no! Discipline in relationships bears the fruit of intimacy — and I want to have a heart that is ready to hear and know the Holy Spirit.

Anyway, it’s time to get back in shape. I want to be ready to wield that sword with the best of ’em.

Finally, be strong in the Lord, and in the strength of His might. Put on the full armor of God, that you may be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.

Easter, etc.

Lots of things get squeezed out of the routine these days. But one thing I miss is writing here regularly. Sure, I have my journal, but the bits of thoughts and prayers that land in there don’t begin to capture the life I’m living with this little family. And so. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that for a month, I’m going to write on this blog every single day. Even if it’s just a picture.

Phew. Here we go.

William. William makes my heart smile these days. Last week, I walked into the family room one afternoon and found that he had built a little pillow fort with Beatrice inside, and he was just having a blast talking to her and “playing” with her. She obliged by laughing and kicking her feet and seeming to be excited about whatever it was her brother was doing.

A few nights ago, we had big treat: a movie in the family room, and an assortment of chocolate-dipped butter cookies. I told the boys three each. And then I watched while William’s fingers hovered above the tin, not moving until he saw which cookie Jameson took, and then quickly grabbing the exact same kind. All three cookies matched. That’s my little William these days — suddenly wanting to be just like Jameson.

Today we sat on the couch and cuddled with his new Easter book for quite awhile, and when it was done, his sweet voice asked, “Mama? Can woo tuddle wid me for a few minutes?” (Translation: Can you cuddle with me.) Uh, yeah!

His eyes sparkle and his smirk is just the best. He’s stubborn and opinionated and totally content and skips through the house and makes “rushing wind” sounds whenever he runs. He’s the best little William.

We got dressed up for Easter. All of the clothes were ironed days ahead of time, and hanging in the closet of excited boys. Jameson’s first impression of his madras shirt was that it was too pink, but I said, “Oh, no! See, William’s looks like water, and yours looks like fire!” And that settled it — the shirt was officially okay. Can you believe the stuff you pull out of thin air when you’re a mom?

I set my alarm for almost an hour earlier than they usually wake up — and yet, one minute into my shower, two little sets of feet ran into my bathroom. “Mom, we’re ready to find our Easter baskets!” I stalled them as long as possible before they ran to wake up Daddy, too. We got to chase down clues outside and enjoyed beautiful spring sunshine. Just the way Easter should be. And when they finally found their baskets, well, I’ve never seen candy shoveled into mouths quite so quickly. Clearly they had discussed a game plan: Just go for it, before Mom even has a chance to say something like, “Only two pieces, boys.” Ha!

Celebrating salvation with our little family is so amazing. I look at these little faces, and my heart just aches to think of the world they’ve been born into, to know the horrific sin and brokenness they’re going to face out there — and even in their own hearts. How wonderful to know that there is a Savior who has placed His love on them, who is seeking their hearts, and whose love is stronger than death itself. I can’t protect them from the truth of sin, but I can point to Jesus.

Tonight, as I was kissing the boys good night, William grabbed Beatrice’s hand and said, in his sweet voice, “Jesus wuvs woo, Beatwice! Jesus wuvs woo!”

Yes, William, He sure does. And that’s the best — the only — thing worth knowing. He loves you guys.

Us:

The boys, in real life:

2011 thoughts

[A post written for my benefit. Bear with me!]

Here we are, almost to the second week of January. Wow. Really?

New Year’s Eve caught me unprepared (as it seems to have done for several years counting.) Where did the year go? Sand slipping between my fingers — it can seem like a vapor. And yes, in some ways, it is. But how good it is to know that God saw those days, and the service that filled them, as seeds sown.

And a pause, laying in bed on New Year’s Eve, gave me a chance to recall the year.

2011 began with a bang. Literally. Josh and Carson showed up with sledge hammers and trash bags that first week and started the huge project of renovating the front rooms of our house. Some weeks of big progress, many weeks of chipping away, and by August, our floors were oiled, our walls painted, and it was all done enough to settle in and be ready for a new baby. (Not that she needs a new music room, but having the grand piano out of our bedroom seemed like it would be a nice idea!)

Olivia moved in that month, too. She lived in our yellow guest room for 9 months, and was sunshine to our family. She befriended William when he was still hesitant about anyone but Mama, and watched him grow from baby to boy. She joked with Ryan, played Legos with Jameson, read books to William, and quietly slipped alongside me to fold laundry or set the table or just smile. We loved, loved, loved her.

January also found me sitting in a chair, sleeping on the couch, and generally hiding from the world as much as possible. Morning (or day) sickness took all the unction out of me, but somewhere in February, I started to feel like myself again. And then in March, somewhere around week 18, I found Regina Willette and a homebirth was planned, again. Once again, my pregnancy passed with no complications, and anticipation and excitement grew along with my belly — which was, once again, huge!

The spring was beautiful, if a bit slow at times, and we passed the time with lots of garden rehab and walks and preparations for CFA’s Cinderella and The Glass Slipper. William enjoyed his first year of being a “big boy”, and he and Jameson played outside for hours, finding favorite spots in the yard for their pirating and cowboying and other exciting things. And bikes, of course. For hours.

We had a visit from our friends Emre and Sevi in January, and then Ryan and I flew to California in March. Besides enjoying the chance to see our very-missed friends, it was also our first overnight travel without kids since pre-Jameson!

Trips to Maine and Long Island and Montreal, buying our neighboring field and a new roof and chipping away at the renovation, lots of trips to Beans’ pool and Nana’s yard and quiet days at home — all of this, and the summer was over. How quickly it goes!

Beatrice was born, William broke his arm, Olivia moved back home, Jameson had a bonfire birthday, Louissa and Josiah prepared for and then celebrated their wedding, William turned 3, and we eased into a bit of “real” Kindergarten work.

CFC began meeting in two locations, we began hosting a large and exciting Young Couples meeting, and Jameson started attending Friday School (and was quite pleased to be in the Christmas concert!)

Washing machines spun, the refrigerator was filled and emptied, filled and emptied, and dishes were washed at least 3 times a day. Bedsheets were changed, diapers outgrown, manners taught, attitudes addressed. Lego towers were admired, Playmobil carriages assembled, and dress-up creativity applauded. Sometimes I got out of my pajamas before 7am, and other days, I just put clean ones on before bed. Some days lists were crossed off with vim and vigor. Some days we barely got through bare essentials. Every day we did our best to love one another and honor Jesus. And two, then three, little people grew and grew and grew.

So, yes, sand between my fingers. Vapors. But somehow, in His economy, beads strung on the thread of time, all adding up to more than we can measure. I look at this past year with this confidence, and it shapes my perspective on the year to come:

Do not be deceived; God is not mocked. For whatever a man sows, that he will also reap.

i’m here.

I’ve never, ever gone this long without updating my blog. Never. But for whatever reason — busy, foggy head, other thing to do, can’t put it in words, first I’ll download all my photos — I haven’t written here in so long that I actually forgot the url to get here. Just for a second, but still. I forgot it.

And yes, we’ve been busy. I know we have, although if you ask me what we did this week, you’ll get a strange blank stare in response. I have no idea. But here we are, at the end of another week. And the three littlest of us are bigger. Hopefully I’m a bit smaller. I’m only three months postpartum, you know.

We’ve started kindergarten. Is it okay that I sort of smirk when I say that? Because how can this be school? Sitting at the table all together for an hour or so, littlest boy putting together puzzles all by himself (William’s achievement: learning diligence), coloring, putting an entire sheet of stickers on a small square of paper; bigger boy thumping his pencil in rhythm on his new book, carefully writing what looks like the distant relatives of what you might recognize as letters, quickly and without any teaching at all whipping through math pages. All of us with heads together learning about the Titanic and volcanoes and picture books just for fun. Pointing at the globe to find the Yangtze river, France, Ohio, and Maine. Coloring, painting, collecting leaves. Taking brisk[ish] walks and talking about geese. Making a list of things to cook just for fun this winter. And the much-anticipated Little House reading at naptime. (They were so sad to leave Laura when we started Farmer Boy, but I think they’re starting to come around.) And (my favorite part!) going to the library to collect the lovely pile of books that are waiting for us. Goodness, I love the internet!

Of course, that’s just part of our day. There are daily chores, the morning routine that takes forever. (How does it do that? Dressed, showered, laundry, quiet time, breakfast — and it feels like the day is gone!) There are meals, errands, visits, baths. Some days it feels like I’m drowning in an ocean of things-to-be-done. (And so I sit down and cry.) Some days I tell the ocean that I just don’t care, and those days go much better. (Although the ocean is still there, and I’m still not quite sure what to do about it. Besides live for 20 more years. That always seems to help with perspective and things-to-be-done.)

William has turned three (and I never even wrote about him — I just realized that!). It is the best age ever. I love every funny little thing he says, the quirky observations about life, the faulty logic that seems so very logical to them. Just love it. Fridays are our morning together, and we read lots of books. Both boys like to hear stories, but William will quite happily sit through a huge stack of books and be perfectly happy. Today we also went out to The Big Rock. Because it’s a beautiful day. At least, that’s what William said when he was trying to convince me to go out and play with him. Who can resist? That is not faulty logic.

Beatrice is big. She is, I know it, try as hard as I may to ignore it. She smiles and coos and absolutely is a love.

And me? I am loving being here in the North Country. There are so many wonderful people, so many new people, just so many people. I love getting to know them, having them in my home, learning their children’s names and their occupations and where they grew up and what puts the twinkle in their eye. People are important. People are fragile. People are worth it.

That’s what I’m thinking about right now, anyway.

And maybe I’ll write again soon. Because there’s lots more to think about.