Post Category → motherhood

thoughts

I realize that Jameson’s first day of school is hardly around the corner, but I find myself thinking about his education, and the crafting of this little arrow in general, quite often. I’m looking at my own childhood in a new light, from the perspective of a new mother. (Amazingly enough, my mom was that new mother when I started school!)

These two posts, written this week by seasoned home school moms, encouraged and challenged me. The bottom line I came away with was this reminder: You can’t do it all. You can’t have it all.

And those are very needed reminders as mothers navigate their way through a culture obsessed with education and well-rounded children (read: kids who play every sport and every instrument, travel with the speech and debate team, and are class president.) Add to that the surging popularity of home education and the plethora of curricula now available, and you could end up with a mom driven by completely wrong priorities — or at least pressured by expectations imposed by everyone but the Lord.

Home education, when done as unto the Lord, requires the same level of walking by the Spirit as every other aspect of our lives. It requires the same dying to self, the same willingness to eat this day’s bread, and the same cultivated contentment with whatever talent He entrusted me with. And four years away from the first textbook, I can already feel the squeeze that puts on me, as a mother who is full of ideals, hopes, and dreams for my kids, my family.

What about His dream? His will?

Even choosing a math program becomes an opportunity to seek first the Kingdom of heaven. (And isn’t that exciting, in the end, to know that such a lowly decision can become a sanctified offering? Isn’t it exciting that He is really that much a part of our lives? That the very Kingdom of Heaven is brought to earth in our schooling decisions? Wow!)

what’s happening.

What’s annoying: The neighbor’s yard crew showing up as you’re putting the baby to sleep — and deciding to begin by weed-whacking right under the window where his basket is.

What’s funny: Walking around the house thinking, “Man, these pants feel loose. I must be losing weight!”, only to look down and realize that your snap is undone.

What’s adorable: Jameson clapping his baby hands and cooing, “Yay!” every time I say, “Good job!”, “All done!”, or just anytime he thinks a celebration is due. Oh, and every time he plays the piano!

What’s challenging: This post on submission, and implications it has for being intentional and guarded in my speech.

What’s awesome: This post on how we speak about children. Mom is always good for a reminder that children are people, and our words have life and death in them — so don’t be flippant about your kids!

What’s interesting: Dr. Mohler gets me up to speed with happenings at the Vatican — and I say thank goodness for straight-shooting Benedict!

What’s yummy: Fresh peaches fried in butter with honey and cinnamon.

What’s beautiful: A California afternoon. Yup. It’s as nice as they say.

speak: v.2*

I’m so thankful for a seeing, hearing, speaking God. I need to know He sees me, and hears me, and it’s really nice to know that He even speaks to me.

:: Last night I was playing some worship songs at the piano, and looking out the window toward the evening sky. There, straight up, was a single star (probably a planet, since they’re the only things bright enough to shine through this brightly-lit stretch of sky), and the sight of it touched me. I felt like I saw God. “There He is! Looking right in our window!”

And I sang my heart out.

Even though I know that God doesn’t live on a star. Or a planet.

:: I was reading Psalm 84 some more. I read,

I would rather stand at the threshold of the house of my God
Than dwell in the tents of wickedness.

and it touched me.

;: Life, as you can imagine, has been a bit out of whack. Funny how trapped our souls are in these physical bodies. You move 3,000 miles, and your soul goes into a tailspin, trying to figure out which way is up. I read that verse and thought, “That’s where I am. Standing at the threshold. Watching God on the big-screen TV in the overflow room.”

I read it again, and tears welled up.

I’d still rather be here, Lord. Even the overflow room is better than anywhere else.

:: Jameson seems to be going through some changes in his sleep needs and schedules. Mostly, he’s suddenly hard to lay down. He wakes up every time I move at all, and it takes forever for him to fall asleep soundly at night. Since I’m doing my best to be the perfect model of a high-strung first-time mother, instead of just taking this in stride, I lend my ear to whispers of doubt. What if I’m doing this wrong? What if I’m off my rocker to be so laid back in my approach to sleep and schedules? Wouldn’t my life be so much better if I could just lay him down at 2:00 and walk away?

And then today, I stumbled upon this. I don’t post that link to make any sort of statement, but just to say, it touched me.

It’s okay to lay your life down the best you know how, I heard the Lord say.

Surely there is more to learn, and He will give me more and more wisdom as I seek His ways. And maybe (hopefully!) mothering will be totally different for me in 10 years.

But for now, all I can do is follow the light at my feet.

And what a faithful Light it is.

*There’s a v.2 because Ryan thought the original post was 90% mulligrubs (if you don’t know that word, think Eeyore) and only 10% “but God”. Well, that’s not at all what I wanted to communicate! What I intended to share was the joy of hearing from the Lord in such a personal way. Doesn’t your soul just leap when the Lord’s voice lets you know He sees just where you are, and He’s there, aware, knowing, loving?

part one of today’s thoughts:

:: I grabbed our designated outdoor blanket, threw some toys in a bag, and hoisted my sunscreen-covered baby onto my hip. Our destination: the back yard. For almost an hour we sat together; I read, he played. At one point I had to pinch myself. There I sat in the warmth of the summer sun, breathing in the sweet scent of lilacs in full bloom, feeding a sweet baby who kicks his chubby feet in enjoyment. Isn’t that what you always imagine being a mother to be like? I do. A moment of sweet perfection.

:: Having exhausted the options for play on the blanket, Jameson began exploring life beyond. His first discovery was a patch of weeds. At least, that’s what an adult would think, since they were sprouting up where grass was intended to grow. But Jameson was enthralled with the miniature — and I mean miniature — purple flowers. And suddenly I knew why God made those little flowers. “He made them for the babies, didn’t He?” Perfectly formed flowers not gone to waste, after all. They’re for the babies.

:: Besides breastmilk, Jameson’s beverages of choice are stolen sips of juice from his cousin’s sippy-cup (I’m not sure he actually knows how to get juice out, but he sure does love chewing on it!), and bathwater laced with shampoo. Yum yum! And I’m pretty sure his first solids will be twigs, leaves, grass, and dead bugs. What a great way to get your immune system off to a good start!

:: This morning was the first morning of Jameson’s mobile life that I slept as long as he did. Taking a shower was looking like an impossibility, and then I remembered the pac’n’play my mother in law bought for us. Perfect! I took a few minutes to set it up, threw in a few favorite toys, and then set Jameson inside. Oh my goodness — the huge smile on his face! He pressed his little nose up against the mesh walls and called to me. I knew exactly what he was saying. “Look, Mom! I’m inside! Isn’t this fun, fun, fun?” New things never cease to amuse Jameson. Would you believe it — our son is sanguine! (Will wonders never cease.)

:: There was another sweet moment of perfection today. I was at Mom’s, dressed to do some serious gardening, but Jameson was tired and fussy. I laid down with him on a blanket and nursed him to sleep. A pretty tree cast its lacy shadows on us, and the breeze cooled our sweaty brows. Birds sang us to sleep — and then Merrick walked by, hauling weeds for Mom: “Yeah, and Danica’s barely working…” I smirked. How many 26 year-old moms have little brothers to tell on them?

[To be continued when I get the chance. I’m trying, Nan!]

eight months, moving, and Truth

:-%,/|} Today I’m bored with starting new sections with “-“, “*”, “:.”, and “::”, so I came up with “:-%,/|}”. Whaddya think?

:-%,/|} Jameson is 8 months old today. This is amazing to me, mostly because I don’t remember spending all day and all night of eight months with him. I still feel like he just arrived!

But no. He’s been around long enough to start figuring the world out. He knows what he wants, and pushes away anything I try to pacify him with. His adorable forward-scooch upgraded today into a modified military crawl, and he’s realized that he can use it to move distances. While I realize that there’s nothing particularly adorable about creeping on the floor, I find it hard to not just stand and watch him move. MY baby is MOVING! Amazing! “Mama’s so proud of you!,” the little guy hears all the time! And a close second in recurring statements is, “No, no, don’t touch/eat that!”

He loves to be silly and get tickled. Peek-a-boo continues to hold its status of possessing universal appeal.

He went to the nursery for the first time this week. I think this was actually more distracting for me, and my entire row, as my eyes were continually watching for my number to appear, indicating a complete Jameson-meltdown. And yes, he can cry with the best of them.

He has six teeth, soon to be eight. That must be the worst part of being a baby.

He talks more and more, and now even his cries have definition — especially the one that means, “I’m totally bored and want to be picked up, but in the meantime, I’ll just experiment with how many ways I can move my tongue.”

So yes. Eight months ago, he was born. I’m so thankful for him, and the message he is that God knows best — you can trust Him.

:-%,/|} As Bri said, the mother’s day message was “off the hook!” (That would be Ryan’s influence.) Absolutely amazing. I won’t mention that it should be posted online, because that job would fall to my husband, who already has too much on his plate right now. But really, it should be posted online.

:-%,/|} The moving company sent someone to come and give us a quote this morning. I now know that I have less than 4,000 pounds of stuff. At least, I hope it’s less. At $1/lb, I’m rooting for less, not more. It was weird to walk through the apartment and think of packing everything up. Moving it. Leaving.

*sigh*

Going is fun. Leaving is sad. Too bad you can’t do one without the other.

Yet another thing I like about heaven: you never have to leave.

:-%,/|} As I mentioned, things are a bit undone around here, thanks to me not keeping up with my chore schedule. Know what’s funny? From the age of 4 or 5 until Jameson was born, I have lived by a schedule and routine. While feeling totally undone after having a baby, I realized that it probably had a bit to do with the fact that, for the first time in my life, I didn’t have a regimen for every day of the week.

Boy, do I like routine.

More like Looooove routine.

And I’ve realized, in this last month of slacking off, that one reason I like having my responsibilities assigned and scheduled is that it’s the only way to live ahead of the natural entropy of life. Instead of my housework being a reaction to what’s the dirtiest, I’m cleaning before it gets bad. I like that feeling. And I’ve always been that way. I was not the student who crammed for a test, or only practiced because I had a concert coming up.

Our souls thrive in order, and order comes through routine.

Okay. That was my little pep talk. Get back on the ball, Danica.

:-%,/|} Being goal-oriented is not fun much of the time. Just when I think I’ve mastered the art of focusing on people, I realize I haven’t at all. Like, last week I thought about how I’ve gotten better about waking up and thinking about what would bless Ryan and Jameson — and then making my to-do list with them in mind. Wow, Danica. Way to put people first. But then I realized that as soon as I’ve determined what will bless them, I have to get those things done, and heaven forbid Ryan or Jameson (or anyone else) get in my way.

Oh dear. Dying to self is hard. Does everyone else know that? Is it only me who is surprised by how hard it continues to be?

:)

:-%,/|} This has been on my heart the last few days, “Behold, children are a gift of the LORD, the fruit of the womb is a reward.”

How much self there is that stands between us and truly understanding that. I was inspired again as I heard my father praising my mother for embracing that truth completely — even though it meant so much death.

But as with all Kingdom principles, that initial death is only that true life may come. And all of the selfishness that clouds our vision will be shown for the pathetic guise of happiness that it really is when we decide to embrace what God calls truth.

In this, as well as in our ideas of womanhood, our culture has wandered so far from a biblical standard that a moderately secular worldview becomes palatable to us. But there is so much more to be discovered, and so much more joy and freedom to be found, in the whole truth of God.

Lord, open my eyes, so “[I] will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe.”

on mothering

I read this quote today — and was again inspired by my dear mother:

“… All the fine-sounding theories of Mrs. Carr-Boldt and her friends crumbled to dust. What would they leave when they were gone? All of their high accomplishments and all of the public’s applause would die with them.

But Margaret could do what Mother did — just take the nearest duty and fulfill it for posterity and eternity, sleep well, and then rise joyfully to fresh effort …” [Mother , by Kathleen Norris]

Happy Mother’s Day, Mama.