Mary, did you know?

Tonight there were no AR goals, no make-up work, no organic/nonGMO meals, no labor budgets, no mortgage payments. There was Wendy's (her choice), preview of the new jazz dance, plans for a friend's party tomorrow. Tonight, I combed her head and greased her scalp--something she has deemed herself grown enough to do for over a year. I never imagined her magic moments, all those long days she grew inside me. I could not have envisioned her laugh, quick wit, sensitivity to others, and her fierce protection of her mama. Nothing can prepare you for the love, joy, pride, the worry. If I knew the outcome would I still have wanted the ride? Mary, did you know? The betrayal? The cross? Even knowing Sunday was coming, could you have carried the burden of Friday? How much God loves us knowing the end and sending His Son? How much Jesus? Their heart breaking on Calgary? Tonight, for the mamas who lost their babies, there aren't words. But between mothers there don't have to be. Mary, did you know? And for the rest of us, belief in the One who does.

9 things I learned as a stay-at-home mom

1. It would be easier to infiltrate a foreign rebel military than the PTA.

2. When people ask what you do, they usually do not think laundry, cook, clean, volunteer, chauffer is not enough to fill a day.

3. You will eventually find an episode of Law & Order: SVU you have never seen.

4. $11.76 a book adds up quickly on your smart phone.

5. Volunteer groups do not readily accept help or suggestion, usually.

6. Your retired parents are always out doing something when you call in the day.

7. Your husband means “the house has never looked cleaner” as a compliment. You are still not speaking to him.

8. When no one compliments the dinner you made (mostly) from scratch, you are angry that you cannot fire your family.

9. The mom who is color-coordinated, packs homemade vegan, gluten-free, organic (I know, I do push the organics) lunches, is the chair of the PTA book drive, has 5 children (all born naturally at home with her husband singing softly and marveling at the power of her uterus) is NOT the best person to compare yourself to, unless, of course, you see a memo she wrote and it contains there instead of their. THEN YOU OWN HER!

Hats off to all of you!

Ezekiel 16:44

"...As is the mother, so is the daughter." Ezekiel 16:44

My mother was a stay-at-home mom (SAHM). The late 70s, early 80s...took me to ballet, mission friends, swimming, preschool at the local church, delivered meals-on-wheels, and I got to get the cold milk cartons from the Styrofoam container. She was up and dressed with breakfast on the table every morning, made cooked lunch, cooked supper. She did it all. (Note: my dad is a great guy. He worked hard, mowed the yard (in slacks [you'll laugh if you know him], pitched in around the house. But we were a gender-traditional nuclear family.)

With both of her kids in school, Mom stayed just as busy: volunteered with a pregnancy crisis center, was PTA president, taught Sunday School, car pooled.

I was home sick one day in jr. high (I was a brat, worse I was a book-smart brat. My apologies to everyone who knew me before I turned ummm....35) and was well-enough to be bored and watch her (note: not help with) her day-to-day routine. I remember telling her, "I could never do this all day every day. It is awful! How do you not go crazy?"

And I didn't, at least not until a month ago.

School started over the past few weeks. It was my first day as a SAHM without baby girl at home. Laundry on, floors swept and vacuumed, bed made, and then I scrolled through Facebook and saw it. An old friend, we had worked a summer together at a Christian camp, posted "Lord, help me to remember there is a season for staying home, that S___won't be young forever. Help me to remember there is a season too for teaching again one day. Thank you for this season."

My camp friend is smart, sweet, loved by everyone (those I can testify to); from her Facebook page she seems to be involved in her community and church, engaged with friends and one incredible educator. She could be anything she wanted. She was choosing to stay home.

I never realized that my mom chose it too. My mom is brilliant: salutatorian of her college class, still speaks enough Spanish to get by in most any situation that may arise, she will annihilate you in any game involving trivia or memory. She is funny, articulate, kind. She could have been anything in the world she chose. And she chose to be my mother.

So to the jr. high girl who couldn't see it then: pay close to attention to your mom and her "routine" day; even if you choose to have a different one, you can learn a lot from her.

Man Plans, God laughs (borrowed from an episode of Frazier)

It had been a good day, some house cleaning, leisurely reading, baby girl “making” scented lotions (Each use is $1 if you’re interested.) Late afternoon, we went shopping: shoes, back-pack, shorts. And by then, nearing dinner-time, she wanted to make the hour drive to the mall.

I vetoed the outing, saying we could go tomorrow: more time to shop and better weather. And then her face grew long, lips pursed, and I felt my irritation rising: she is too old for this; we spent the whole afternoon shopping for her.

A breath or two. A different approach. “Baby girl, did I say we couldn’t go to the mall at all?” She shakes her head side-to-side. “Didn’t we do several things you wanted today? So why the sour face?”

“I wanted to do everything that I had planned.”

Oh she is my child!

Her face, her hands, her very quick (and occasionally ill-timed and inappropriate) wit, and her wanting it all—her way, just as she planned.

Lord, is this how I am with you? If something doesn’t go just so, do I want to chuck it all? Why do I overlook the joy that I’ve already had just because something is different than I imagined it would be?

Why do I throw in the towel when something doesn’t go my way? Help me, Lord, to let go of my plans, to be accepting of whatever it is you have planned for me.

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord." Jeremiah 29:11

 

I feel my irritation subsiding. The lesson here is not only hers to be learned. How amazing it is when the Lord uses our children to humble us.

“Baby girl, is it worth ruining the rest of the evening just because we’re not doing something exactly the way you want it? Or is it better to have had fun doing some of what you wanted today and some more tomorrow?”  Her look softens. “Or even if we didn’t go to the mall tomorrow, isn’t it better to enjoy what we did today?”

I don’t know if she is surprised by the lack of a mom speech or agrees with the logic, but the long face is lessened. And she is OK with her plans being changed.

Lord, help me to be OK with mine being changed as well.

OK With the Now

I love to be right. Not only knowing that I am right; I want other people to know I'm right and admit that they are wrong.

I am not good at slowly letting people come to their own realizations. I push. And push. Relentless until they see the error of their ways or until I am furious and frustrated, or both.

And I want others, not necessarily involved to tell me I am right too.

Is that too much to ask?
(I Think we may have discovered one of the beams in mine own eye!)


But what to do when you are at an impasse?

Is it Christian to agree to disagree? How do you respond when they are too angry? Angry enough to hurt others with words because they want to be right too?

I told my husband I don't want my attitude to be sinful. But I have no idea what that means. Or how to start if I did.

So I stopped pushing. I quit talking or texting the other party, long before I wanted to. And I asked the Lord what I needed to do and admitted I already had my own ideas. And I didn't try to rally others to my side too terribly much.

And I saw I was keeping score.

Take 2.

Ok. Do I have to/need to let them spend alone time with my kid (and future ones, if it happens)? Is it wrong to curb relationships if you feel genuinely insulted and belittled? And how do you explain it to the kids and the other party?

Is not being sinful synonymous with ignoring your own feelings about serious issues (values and morals)?

Or is it OK to proceed cautiously? Understanding that right now I don't have a comfort level? And that it’s OK not to. Being a Christian does not mean you are OK with everyone all the time, even if they are Christians too. And knowing it is OK to say “No” or “Enough. It is our family. Let us do it our way.” doesn’t make you any less in His eyes, even if it is hard for others to hear.

But I don’t think it is a final answer. I have to be open to change in the future? Knowing that we all change and grow. But knowing I want THE END, a resolution, RIGHT NOW? But learning to be OK with the now?

               

It is new for me, but I am trying. Learning it is OK to stand up for myself without beating someone else into submission…..and being OK with where it takes me…..that is what I’m learning today.

Jesus had a step-dad

I know how much I love baby girl; it is something visceral, almost animal-like in its intensity and ferociousness.

I try to imagine if I would or could feel that way if I had only known her a year. Would I open myself up to her? Set-up at times for rejection and failure? Would I joyously go back time and time again, slowly chipping away at the walls she built? Would I take her to school and summer camp every morning? Would I bring her a bouquet of flowers or mail her a card because she worked hard and accomplished a goal? Could I love her because I was in love with her parent?

I don't know what kind of step-mom I would be.

But watching my husband diligently and quietly go about the business of parenting a little girl he met just 18 months ago tells the story of what kind of man he is.

Step-parenting is sitting through a Selena Gomez movie and teaching a giggly eight year old how to use chop sticks. It is making homemade popcorn and watching Wizards of Waverly Place, over and over again. It is playing Just Dance, checkers, War and Garbage. It is praying for her, taking her and her mother to church. It is turning the other cheek when a nine-year-old is trying to push you away. It is setting boundaries when you know she needs them. It is doing the right thing when she is watching and when she is not. It is loving her mother and loving her, even when they are not at their most lovable.

         

She has taken to raiding our closet, rummaging through his t-shirts, finding just the right one to wear. I warn him they may get ruined. He tells her to take anyone she likes. Morning after morning, his stack of memories dwindles, only to be returned covered with fingernail polish and glitter. Once he held up his college orientation shirt and said, "Did they slaughter hogs at camp today?" She wore yet another t-shirt the next day.

Success in step-parenting is an ebb and flow. There doesn't seem to be that one "Eureka" moment. It is a little forward progress, a step back, and resolve to push onward. Victory is the moment baby girl tells her friend, "L__ is fun in the pool, but he is so hairy. It's gross." It is the glance she gives him when she burps so loudly for the second time at the dinner table because she knows he will be a little amused when I am not. It is her waiting for him to open her car door because she has learned that, that is how a man should treat a lady.

I don't know what Joseph thought of being a step-dad. But I can imagine that worry crossed Mary's mind. How could a man love her child enough, if it wasn't his? Though I know Jesus was, by far, not the ordinary stepson; I believe God knew that in His plan we would encounter a similar situation...that families would blend. And though, the Bible doesn't tell us much about Joseph as a dad, it tells us he and Mary were worried when they couldn't find Jesus. "Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you." Luke 2:48

Both worried.

There have been so many moments of my life I wanted a do-over, to make baby girl's road easier, better. Wishing her earliest years had been more traditional, less of my mistakes. And though in her early years she was fortunate enough to have my dad as a surrogate, I wonder if the perils I read about girls with absentee dads or split-up parents will befall her?

And then I remember that Jesus had a step-dad. That God knew centuries ago that He needed men to raise His children even when they didn't father them. And that being called to be a step-dad is not a consolation prize, but a role that the MOST HOLY GOD allowed in the life of his Son.

Being a parent is hard. Being a good step-parent, I imagine, is much more so. And I am thankful for the Josephs of the world, my husband especially, who father children that they didn't make.

Whip backs on concrete

It was a Memphis street, a tourist destination off of Beale, a boy of 11 or 12 sets out a large yellow bucket and proceeds to flip down the concrete. Back handsprings, back tucks, whip backs...at least a dozen in a row. Stopped now, grinning and sweating, in the thick 90+ temperatures.

People applaud and approach, drop change and loose bills into his bucket. Ask for more flips and off he goes. Baby girl and I watch, amazed. "Momma, it's a whip back on concrete!" And then, "What a cool job." Her stepdad hands her a ten and she shyly tells the boy that his flips are awesome and drops the money in the bucket.

I try to explain that it is kind of a job, that he is helping his family earn money and that because he is too young to work in any kind of store that this is what he does.

Then because I am a cheer mom and sometimes dumb, I quickly launch into my "Baby, you can do most of those tricks...you should get out there with him. It will be fun! Please. Pops can get some picture. C'mon"

"Will you give me money, too?” Ahhhh, greed.

She relents under the promise of $2. Does some back flips. The young boy comes and tells her she is awesome too.

Her stepdad hands her $2, and we find an air conditioned store and begin to pick out t-shirts.

"Momma, I'm going to go back outside with Nana." I only ask if she wants a t-shirt, mug, something. "No, ma'am. I'm good"

20 minutes later, husband and I are back outside, bags full of shirts we may or may not wear. I hear applause; the boy and his bucket are still working the street.

Baby girl sits on the curb, watching. My mom is misty-eyed, looking back and forth between them. And I know she feels badly for him.

She smiles, though, when I approach and whispers. "Baby girl gave him one of her two dollars."

With Thanksgiving

Even at the near-lowest volume, the TV seems so loud in  the middle of the night.

Baby girl, in her room down the hall can sleep through anything after sharing my bed all these years I've been on call. No ringing phone, no converstion, no movement wakes her up. My husband, in the next room over, stirs at the slighest movement, fully awake with any noise.

I can spy on her withot ninja skill. Just stand next to her bed and touch her cheek, how much I love her, literally stops my breath in my chest, so that I shudder a little when I finally exhale. How God made her, so perfect for me, is only one of his many miracles. Proof that God can bring light from any depth of darkness.

Watching him requires more stealth, minimal movement, all the while waiting for him to raise his head and open his eyes. Loving him was effortless. Believing that he chose me, that he saw the woman I could be, not the past I had, that he loved me, took all my faith and all his patience.

But here in this house, in the hot pink and zebra world that is hers and under the bedspread that he picked out for us are the gifts that God has given me. One year ago, I could not imagine being a wife, could not imagine that my child would share her mother with anyone. But the Lord gives us the desires of our heart, even when we don't realize we have them.

Lord, remind me when I am tired, when I am lazy, when I am angry that you gave me the chance to be her mother and his wife and that no other earthly position is more important.