Category Archives: My name is Mommy

Remembering this. I have been so experiencing this in my own life lately! Take courage…

~

I heard the thunderous crash and Heidi’s blood-curdling scream and ran into the kid’s room.

 The large, wooden dresser had fallen on top of my tiny girl.

I pushed up the dresser, gathered her into my arms and ran into the living room. As I listened to her cries, encouraged that she was coherent, I could make out the words, “I was trying to put on my swimsuit.”

My sweet girl had been trying to be brave.

See, “Try new things” is not exactly on my kids’ list of favorite things to do. They would both be content staying home, all day, every day, and playing Legos or reading books or doing our normal routine. This works well since I’m a homebody too, but every once in awhile we’ve got to push these babes to risk … just a little.

Insert swim lessons.

I had found a class for 3-5 year-olds, so they could be together. I told them they could hold hands, that I’d be nearby, that no one would dunk them under or throw them in the deep end. Still, they both cried. We counted down the days until we began, and the morning of I was so blessed to see them make a valiant effort at bravery. My 5-year-old son started repeating to himself, “This is going to be fun. It’ll feel like playing!” (I’m all for self-talk!) and my little daughter announced she would get ready all by herself.

So she, wanting to be brave, wanted to get her swim-suit for class. But it was in the top drawer, so she opened the bottom drawers and climbed up the front. Yes, you can guess what happened next. By God’s amazing and miraculous mercy, my son’s bed broke the fall (hooray for tiny shared bedrooms where there isn’t even enough room for a dresser to fall flat on the floor!) and so it pinned her head against the bed, the dresser drawers against her face and her body hanging down off the bed.

It looked worse than it was. I expected her teeth to be through her face. I expected blood everywhere. But because of the soft bed, she didn’t have a single scratch.  After she quit crying a slightly puffy lip was the only real damage we could find.

Praise God. 

She was still a little shaken when it was time to brave the pool waters, but she quickly conquered her fear and had an awesome time. Swim lessons ended up being one of the greatest experiences of my kids lives so far. It was such a significant victory and made them so much braver ever since.

I couldn’t help but see the parallel in my own life.

The enemy does not want us to be brave. He wants to keep us living ever-cautious, ever-safe, never risking, never trying new things. When we do make a choice to branch out in faith, he will do whatever he can to intimidate us, scare us, fill us with fear, whatever he can do to keep us from bravely moving out in faith.

He will drop dressers on us. He will drop bombs of discouragement and depression. He will bring unexpected conflict, confusion. He will toss heaviness our way, misgivings and misfortune. But the amazing part?

We will walk away unscathed. 

You’ve probably heard it said, Satan is de-clawed. He can try to scare us, intimidate us, and fill us with fear, but he cannot truly harm us. And no matter what may befall us …

We will not be shaken.

As my daughter shook off her scary incident and persevered in her swim lesson-adventure, I knew God was telling us to to persevere in faith, be brave, risk, and refuse to let the enemy intimidate in order to keep us cowering.

What are you attempting to do today? Where are you trusting God? Stepping out in faith? Risking? Being brave? Can you see where the enemy would love to intimidate you? Scare you? Use fear tactics to keep you cowering? How can you choose to trust God and not be shaken today? Can I offer an idea: Read Psalm 91 right here. This just “happened” to be my Bible reading the morning that this happened.  Praying bravery and courage for you today; thanks for reading!

A big forest behind our house, lots of free time to read, a garden, science fairs, a playhouse, maps on the wall, Legos, an old piano, sketch books, almost no TV, and a library card.

These were the key components of my homeschool education growing up. In fact, when I’m asked what my homeschool days were like I usually respond, “I remember home but I don’t remember any school.”

My mom loves that.

She enthusiastically led us in a joy-filled, relaxed approach to learning.  “Doing school” did not dominate our days.

Last year I ran across my mom’s worn and tattered volume by Mary Pride, homeschooling guru from the 1980s, who raised seven kids, wrote books, and taught countless seminars. On one of the many dog-eared pages I discovered part of the inspiration for Mom’s philosophy.  When asked, “How do you do it all?”  Pride responded,

“The key is … laziness! The best way to teach is to not have to teach at all. Ideally, our children should learn how to learn and begin to teach themselves.”

I believe this is why some moms can have a gaggle of kids, homeschool, volunteer, maintain friendships, and be active in their communities without collapsing. (They might have housekeepers too; I’m suspicious.)  We give our kids the key to learning and then relax a bit. Here are a few ideas to make this work (Thanks, Mary).

The lazy girl’s guide to home education:

{Here’s the rest over at Simple Homeschool. Thank you for reading!}

So, here’s a deal for you book-loving ladies and gents. Educents has a e-book bundle on sale for the next 10 days — you get $101 worth of books for only $19.99. And, if you look up at the top left corner of the picture above you’ll something sweet: Plenty! Yup, both Plenty and Let In Light are included in the bundle, so spread the word and share the love. Please note this isn’t just for homeschoolers, there’s all sorts of fabulous books in here such as family calendars, chore charts, homemade convenience foods (yes, please!) and even a thanksgiving journal for kids that would be great to do in November …  So CLICK HERE to check out the deal.   Enjoy! Thanks so much for reading!

It hung there, while I grew up. 

An embroidered picture and poem, hand-sewn by my mom and framed in a simple wooden frame. It hung on the wall of our living room all my growing up years. I can still see it hanging there in my mind’s eye. I read it so often it’s etched in my memory. It now hangs in our loft, where the kids and I play, just to remind me:

I hope my children look back on today

And see a mother who had time to play.

There will be years for cleaning and cooking

For children grow up while we are not looking

In my life, I translate this poem, “There will be years for speaking and writing….” and I need to read it every day. I am in the thick of my busiest season. Many weekends I’m away. Many hours are spent studying.

But in every spare moment, I resolve afresh … to play. With all my heart.  This week we colored on the front porch, zoomed matchbox cars down the wooden ramp on the back porch, and made high-pitched voices for the tiny princess dolls. Jeff read The Hobbit out loud to eager ears for six hours on his day off. Today I am reveling in a weekend of no speaking engagements and soaking up these sacred moments with all that is within me.

These years are so short, I resolve afresh to enjoy them. I resolve afresh to remember–they grow up while I am not looking. 

There will be years for ________________.

Fill in the blank. What is it for you? What will be gone when you are not looking?

I pray no matter what your day looks like, you are able to savor whatever it is that will someday be gone while you are not looking. A child, a parent, a season, a day. However profound or however simple, may you enjoy today for what it is — a gift. Happy Friday; Thanks so much for reading.

JUST this morning my son was holding a half piece of toast in his hand, chewing, and asking if he could have another piece. What is it with asking for more before we need it? Remembering this from last year… a funny reminder. Enjoy!

~

“Ma-pee-ha-mo-affa-iss?”

Translated: “May I please have more after this?” spoken by a 3-year-old whose mouth is stuffed full of green grapes. There were still plenty left in her bowl.

The same thing happened the day before. I packed the kids a special picnic treat–grilled cheese sandwiches. I gave each child a half, and as Dutch was devouring his he asked the same thing,

“Ma-pee-ha-mo-affa-iss?”

I told them both to please just enjoy what they have and wait until they are finished to ask me for more.

It irritates me that instead of just enjoying what I’ve already given them they are preoccupied with whether or not there will be more afterwards.

I wonder if any other Parent feels that way?

Don’t my children understand that I’m their mommy and I always give them what they need, and I never turn them away when they are hungry?

I remember last year, when we were waiting on where we would live next. I was so anxious. I remember the date, October 1st, when our lease was up, looming large in my mind. I remember how I kept reminding God that it was mid-September and asking Him if He forgot that something needed to happen by then? (smile)

And then I remembered my kids’ request:

“Ma-pee-ha-mo-affa-iss?”

He gently returned my question with one of His own:

Kari, do you have a place to live today? 

Kari, do you have food on the table today? 

Kari, are you alive today? 

Kari, do you have water, clothes, a bed, grace, everything you need for today? 

Yes. Yes, Heavenly Father, I do.

Have you forgotten My Words? 

I turn to them, to remind myself:

“[All creatures] look to you, to give them their food in due season. When you give it to them, they gather it up; when you open your hand, they are filled with good things.” Psalm 104:27

In due season God provides His creatures their food. That is, when they need it.

“But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” Matthew 6:33-34

When we are hungry, He will feed us.

When we are thirsty, He will give us a drink.

When we need a place to live, He will provide.

I don’t need to say, with a mouth full of food, “Ma-pee-ha-mo-affa-iss?”

I just need to enjoy what He’s already given today and trust there will be more tomorrow. 

~

How can you enjoy what He’s given today and trust Him for tomorrow? Praying this rest and peace for you this weekend. Thanks for reading.

“When is the last day?”

Heidi was seated at the kitchen counter, flipping through our wall calendar.

“Last day? Last day of what, Sweetiegirl?”

“The last day. When Jesus comes! When we get to go to heaven. When is it?” She continued searching the calendar pages.

Oh babygirl.

“Good question. We don’t know when Jesus will return. But I hope it’s soon! It’ll be awesome when he comes right?”  She smiled and nodded, then she and Dutch began chattering about what heaven would be like. My mind drifted …  I love how anticipatory Heidi naturally was about Jesus’ return.  I love that she was perfectly content not knowing, but still eager. Am I like that? We have been part of churches with a wide spectrum of eschatological views and I chewed for a bit on how to encourage a grace-filled, loving approach to end-times ideas. I leaned into their conversation.

“Hey guys. Can I tell you a story?”

They lit up, of course. They love stories.

“There once was a little boy and a little girl. The boy was named Dutch and the girl was named Heidi. They LOVED playing with their Papa and always looked forward to having him visit.

One day, in the morning, Papa called and told Dutch and Heidi that he was coming to visit them that day. They were so excited! They jumped up and down and said, “Ok! And hung up the phone to hurry up and eat their breakfast and make their beds, to they’d be ready for him to come.

But they didn’t know what time he’d be coming. Heidi said they should go ahead and do their schoolwork and pick up their toys and get all their work accomplished before Papa got there. Dutch said no way. What’s the point of doing their schoolwork because Papa was going to show up any minute and they’d just go play with him for the rest of the day? There was no use doing schoolwork when Papa was going to come over!

Heidi disagreed. She thought Papa was probably going to come later, after rest time.

Dutch argued, No way! Dutch didn’t like rest time, so he thought surely Papa wouldn’t wait until after that. Papa would come before resttime because when Papa was here they didn’t have to take rests. Papa would save them from having to take a rest, by coming before and keeping them from it.

Heidi didn’t agree.

Heidi said because Papa loved them so much He would do what’s best for them, coming after their rest so they had to learn to be patient.  Dutch didn’t agree. He said Papa loved them so much there was no way He’d make them have to go through rest time. Papa knew that they didn’t like rest time, so Papa would show up and save them from having to do it.

Pretty soon things heated up. Heidi wouldn’t back down and neither would Dutch. Heidi was yelling about getting their schoolwork done, and Dutch was yelling at her to be quiet so that he could hear in case Papa’s truck pulled up. Finally Dutch got so mad he just left her alone and went to sit on the front porch, sulking all day, just waiting for Papa to show up. Eventually, he even fell asleep on the porch. Heidi, fed up, left him alone and did all the chores and responsibilities, frustrated and muttering and complaining about how lazy Dutch was. In fact, she was so fixated on her frustration toward Dutch, she completely forgot about Papa coming over.

When Papa arrived, his heart sank in disappointment. No one ran out to meet him. He had been hoping that his grandchildren were listening for him, eager to run out and greet him. He walked up the steps and found Dutch asleep on the porch. He walked inside and found Heidi, fuming, picking up toys and muttering to herself about how lazy her brother was.

Even though He was sad, Papa forgave them. He woke Dutch and interrupted Heidi, gathered them up into His lap, and gently told them this:

‘My precious grandchildren, I love you so much. I was so excited to see you. I’m sad that you were arguing over when I would show up. Dutch, I’m sad that you ignored all the work right in front of you, and just sat around waiting for me. Heidi, I’m sad that you forgot all about my visit because you were grumpily trying to do everyone’s work. Both of you, I’m sad that you weren’t here to run out and embrace me when I showed up. I wish you would have stayed busy with your chores and responsibilities, all the while keeping your ear out so you could hear my truck when I arrived.

Then, precious children, you would have been ready for me.'”

~

“And now the prize awaits me–the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on the day of his return. And the prize is not just for me but for all who eagerly look forward to his appearing.” 2 Timothy 4:8

{Let us eagerly look forward to His appearing. Thanks for reading.}

Remembering this:

It’s early but feels late. (Is 6pm too soon to put kids to bed?)

There’s no more energy left in this girl. I’m tired.

I finish the dishes of the big dinner the kids picked at and didn’t eat. Resist the urge to medicate with another piece of chocolate. “Ok, bath time, pick up your toys!” Kids scurry, pick up toys. Begin to head upstairs. I look around. These kids must be half blind. Call them back down to get the rest.

Dutch looks around, bewildered. “What other toys?”

Is it a boy thing?

We finish. Head up. An issue of delayed obedience (which is disobedience) demands attention. There are tears. They are tired too.  Bodies are cleaned but washing hair is a war. Little bodies, slippery like fish, are wrapped in towels. I notice the smell. Glance over at the laundry basket. It towers, taunting me. Tomorrow, I tell myself.

They’re just getting settled when it hits — the ravenous bedtime hunger. “May I please have something to eat?” Which from Heidi’s mouth sounds like, “May I peese ‘ave froggy to eat?”  For some reason “something” always sounds like “froggy.”  I remember their non-existent appetite when dinner was served. Suddenly that appetite has returned with a vengeance. After banana, cheese, and a baggie of tomatoes, they ask for more but I draw the line. I give them a half-hearted 3-second teeth-brushing, herd them into bed, kiss them both and turn toward the door.

Out the door, in the hall, I exhale the sigh of relief, but stop in the hall. My room, the bed, the computer, the escape, it calls. Beckons. Lures. Come, be DONE. DONE. DONE.

I haven’t prayed with them. I haven’t told them how much God loves them. I’ve cared for their bodies but neglected their souls. My flesh is so weak the truth is I just want to close my bedroom door and be done. But then I remember how sometimes bedtime takes forever … and it should.

I turn around and enter in.

I kneel, curl up beside Dutch and lean in close to his puppy-breath, kiss his cheeks. I pray God’s goodness and favor and blessing and grace over his life, then tell him how much God loves him and I do too.

“Mommy, I love you so much.”

I almost missed this.

I go over to Heidi’s bed. She’s already heavy-eyed, curls spilled over her pillow. I pray. Tell her as well how much God loves her and I do too.

“Mommy I yuv you.”

How could I have considered missing this?

I slide under my covers. Write this. Read a precious email from another tired mom. Close the laptop lid and snuggle down into darkened silent bliss. Close my eyes, yes.

“Mommy!! May I please have more cheese?!”

–

{Happy weekend dear Mommy, and thanks for reading.}

I was sound asleep when the airplane took a sharp descent.

We had departed from Miami at 7:59am, the same time American Airlines Flight 11 departed from Boston. Now, not even an hour later, the flight attendants scurried about, nervous, hurriedly asking us to please sit up, fasten our seat-belts and put our tray tables in the upright and locked position. I rubbed my eyes, confused, and did as I was told.

The pilot’s voice crackled over the speaker: We were emergency landing. No other information was given.  The massive 777 dwarfed the tiny runway, and the plane taxied out into an open field. We were instructed to deplane, leaving behind all bags and personal items, and to stand in the field to await further instruction.  Again, we did as we were told, talking in hushed voices: What’s going on? Some people started crying. A few had cell phones. Within minutes we heard a few bits of news: {Read the rest here}

I am happy to report that at 4 1/2 years old, Heidi is officially done with thumb-sucking. Re-reading this convicted me though, and I’ve made some personal changes to break my own thumb sucking habits. You know what? It’s freeing! (More on that later.) Read and ask God to show you what your thumb is, and how to turn to Him instead…

~

The first time she found it, I cheered. When she was two months old I was thrilled she’d learned the age-old self-soothe method that enabled her to fall asleep on her own: Sucking her thumb.

But now she’s 3. Almost 3 1/2. I don’t mind that it goes in when she needs to fall asleep. Fine. But I noticed now it goes in when she’s stressed. Or upset. Or if she needs to be particularly quiet or patient.  I know this is a ridiculous exaggeration but sometimes I think she draws on that thumb like a chain smoker on a cigarette.

Unfortunately, sometimes I recognize that same behavior in myself. The other day I finished a stressful situation, walked into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Then I stopped and thought: Why? It wasn’t mealtime and I wasn’t hungry.

I was sucking my thumb.

There’s nothing wrong with a toddler sucking her thumb. In fact, as an infant it’s a helpful behavior. But there’s a time when the toddler must grow up, right?

Right.

And whether it’s a thumb, a chocolate bar, or a cigarette — all can be self-soothe methods we might need to outgrow. So the first question to ask our Loving Father is,

“What is my thumb?”

Because maturity is learning to quit sucking our thumbs and start depending on God. Maturity is when we leave behind our childish ways–that of leaning on status, substances, and self–and begin letting every stressful situation drive us to the throne of grace, drive us to our knees in prayer, drive us to a greater and greater dependency on the power of God’s Spirit to rule our life.

Almost anything can be our “thumb” — social media, entertainment, phones, food, alcohol, attention, exercise, self-focus. I’m sure you could add a few to the list from your own experience.

But what if we quit self-soothing and started throwing ourselves at His feet?

What if we let ourselves “fall apart” a bit more so that God’s Spirit could actually come and make us whole? Put us back together, better than ever before?

There are absolutely helpful behaviors that help us work through stress. I’m not implying that any of those are wrong. A great choice might be a  good run where you can listen to worship music, or a long walk where you can pour my heart out to God. Things that help us engage in, turn to God, and work through a situation are great; but behaviors that make us escape a situation and turn away from God will never help us work through it and find growth, healing, wholeness.

When Heidi was struggling with her thumb I would gently but firmly pulling down her hand, with a smile and a kiss: “Sweetie-girl, you don’t need your thumb.”

Perhaps we need to remind ourselves too. When we find ourselves turning back to that thumb of self-soothing …

Sweetie-girl, you don’t need ______ _____________.

Instead, perhaps lift your hands (and thumbs) to Jesus and find mercy and grace in our time of need.

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. (Heb. 4:16)

Thanks for reading.

It all happened tonight.

Five minutes earlier we had been laughing. But now I pulled her blankets up, kissed her round, peach cheeks, and saw a flash of sadness and fear in her eyes.

“What is it, babygirl? What’s wrong?”

Her eyes filled, face twisting into that sadness, the kind we hold back, even as children, holding fear at bay but then something breaks the dam and it all floods forward.

She held her breath for a moment, the words spilled out: “I don’t want my teeth to fall out!” 

Tears streamed down her cheeks, her tiny body shaking with sobs, eyes shut in sadness.

“Oh sweetie! Your teeth won’t fall out! Why do you think they’ll fall out?” Whatever birthed this belief, clearly it was tormenting her.

She held her breath again, unable to say the words. I know that feelings, babygirl. Finally she spit out the truth: “Because I suck my thumb. Because I suck my thumb, my teeth are moving back and I’ll have to get braces and my teeth will fall out.”

I raised my eyebrows. Oh boy. Now I don’t know where she heard this, but let it be known that kids do take our words seriously, even when they seem to be ignoring us.

“Oh sweetie. Your teeth won’t fall out. And even if you have to get braces, that’s ok. But are you feeling like you’re ready to stop sucking your thumb?” She nodded, fear and hope mixed in her tears.

“Ok. That’s a great plan. I’ll snuggle you and we’ll play music and I’ll hold onto your hands to help you.” So we did this. But as with every meltdown, the issue is never the issue.  We snuggled, but the tears kept coming. Still, her body shook with sobs. Still she couldn’t get her breath to slow. Fifteen minutes turned to twenty, turned to thirty, turned to forty-five. I propped up on my elbow to look in her eyes. Sadness deeper than teeth issues. She finally spoke again, works choked out between sobs:

“I want to … remember … this night forever. And that other night …. when you snuggled me for a long time … I want to remember both nights forever, how you snuggled me.”

“Ok, yes. Let’s remember this forever.”

“And …” her voice caught in tears: “When I’m all grown up will you write down a list of all the things I did when I was little? So I can always remember?” I looked into her eyes, bewildered and suddenly caught by the significance of this question and the depth of understanding and emotion she was showing. I looked deep into her questioning, sad, hopeful eyes. 

“Yes! Of course, sweetie. I’ll write everything down, so we can remember together. When …” and now my voice caught, “When you’re all grown up.”

I leaned my face down, my wet cheek against hers. I can already see her at 14, tall with brown curls and muscular legs and still-round cheeks and laughing still, head thrown back, a wide-eyed wonderment. Will I still be here? Will she still be here? What will be different? What will I wish I had done? Will I have any regrets? Will I remember all the things she did “when she was little” so I can write them in a list? 

I couldn’t breathe.

I don’t know how long we lay there, her tiny body wrapped up in mine. But the summer evening sun turned to darkness and the air cooled, coming through the window. At some point she asked for daddy. Jeff joined us. Eventually she stilled, slept.

And it’s all so complex. Love. Parenting. Nurturing. Bedtime’s 7:30 but it was well past 9pm when I slid out from under those Hello Kitty covers and tiptoed back into our room. And silently I thanked God for enough margin in life to be there for her. Meltdowns aren’t marked on the schedule; tears are never timed well. But by the grace of God I resolve to be with my children as much as possible, to notice the flash of sadness in the eyes and wipe the tears and stay an hour longer than planned. She will be 14 and then 40. I will be here and then gone.

O Father, with all that is in us we ask: Help us love our children well.

{May your weekend we blessed. Thank you for reading.}

~

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