Little Bunny Foo-Foo

I've recently seen the different personalities of my 3 and 4 year olds come out. A few weeks ago the girls were doing a great job of playing together-a few fights, but no major drama. As I was probably cleaning something up, I heard a rhythmic rocking sound. Knowing that we don't have a rocking horse I went into the room to investigate. There was lots of laughing involved too. I walked in on them jumping on one of their beds. These beds are not spring beds, but "cheapo plywood on the bottom and that's it beds." So I told them to stop and went about my business. Not five minutes later I hear the sound again. Angry this time, I went in there and told them to stop and if they didn't they would get a spanking.

Thinking that would resolve it, because it usually does, I left again. 2 minutes later I heard the same sound... So I RAN in there this time, seething. (I fear what my face must have looked like). My four year old, Eliza said, "I'm sorry, mommy, I'm sorry mommy..." I said, "Sorry is too late," and I grabbed her and swatted her on the bum. She said, "That didn't hurt." I set her on her bed and grabbed the three year old, Psalter, nailing her (I knew this by her wail)on the back of her leg. Then I went back to Eliza and spanked her again--this time she cried.

So angry, I had to leave the room and I told them they had to sit on their beds in "time out" too. They were both wailing for a while. When they finally stopped I went in to talk with them. I asked the Eliza, "why did I have to spank you?" She wailed out, "I said I was sorry." Then I asked the Psalter the same question and she responded with a shrug and "I don't know." So I explained to them that I spanked them because they disobeyed me THREE times when I asked them to stop jumping on their bed. After my reasoning, Eliza is still distraught from being called out and punished, Psalter looks up at me, with a glint in her eye and matter-of-factly tells me, "Mommy, I was being little bunny foo-foo." Like, there's nothing wrong with that and what's the big deal, mommy.

I had to hide my face in my shirt as I laughed. Eliza was so distraught over getting in trouble, our rules-keeper and my free-spirited child was only upset because the spanking hurt, she did not know why she got a spanking or time out, that was just an inconvenience. In her mind, playing little bunny foo-foo on her bed made perfect sense.

Oh what a joy to have 2 such different and beautiful personalities! Oh Lord, give us the strength and wisdom to discipline and train up each one according to what would be emotionally and spiritually healthy for them.

3 o'clock baby

I'm going to start calling my 8 month old, "3 o'clock baby." For the past couple of weeks he's been waking up at 10:30, 3:00 and 6:00. Yes, he's my third and you'd think I'd have it figured out by now. I know people who's 3 month old FIRSTBORNs are sleeping through the night. But is my THIRDBORN? No chance. A month or so ago I asked the Lord what else He wanted from me, feeling like He was punishing me for something I was with-holding. But in a small gentle voice I heard Him ask me, "Why do you think I'm doing this to you?"

Well, I don't know...I guess I don't believe that God is punishing me, this is just a part of life. But I'm so ready for at least a 6 hour block of sleep. This is the point of parenthood that I'm throwing out all the books on baby's sleep. "Babywise", yeah dream on. Letting him cry it out is like torture because he literally screams like he's being tortured, it wakes up both of his sisters, so now I have three screaming children. Yeah, tried it, didn't work, not the answer. So, I just do the best I can, I get up, nurse him and go back to bed. Oh and sometimes I punch things because I'm so frustrated, like last night I was so angry I punched the leather chair in his room. At least it's padded...

Afterwards, as I felt my hand throb, I started to think about how this time really won't last. I won't be able to hold him like this much longer. And in 16 years he's probably not going to want me around as much. So why not be his superstar for right now. I'm his celebrity, the one he wants to see all the time, the one he's looking for. Not much longer, so enjoy the time now. I'll eventually get a full night's sleep, right now it's a delight to serve him, even if it's at 3 o'clock in the morning.

Susan

Susan, when I saw you walking the streets again this morning, my heart broke for you. Why do you run? The Savior is right there, waiting, ready for you to come to Him, ready to save you from yourself and this cruel world. He loves you so much, He pursues you, but you ignore His gentle voice.

And why wouldn't you, no one's left you any reason to listen and trust. You've been used, abused, rejected and judged for so long. Why would you believe what He says about you is true: that He knit you together in your mother's womb...He knows how many hairs are on your head...He saw your innocence taken from you and wept for you...He saw when you took your first "hit" of drugs and He saw when you first sold yourself for money, drugs or just a place to lay your head and yet He did not pick up a stone.

He's forgiven you already because He loves you, He wants to call you His own. He created you to love Him and glorify Him. He longs to peel off that ugly cloak of shame and clothe you with His beauty, His glory and His love. He's already forgiven you, Susan. You've come so close to believing that for yourself, but then you turn in fear and run. You run back to the life you know, it's comfortable to you because you've lived it so vividly. Why chance being vulnerable and broken, that's what got you to where you are today. But the truth remains...He's calling you. Whether that's through me or in another way, He will keep calling.

You are God's gift to me because you allow me to take my selfish eyes off myself and soften my heart towards God's incredible creation--people. You also provide me a physical picture of my spiritual life. I'm often running from God's gentle voice, running back to the things that are comfortable, of my flesh. I'm often hiding beneath a heavy cloak of shame, when I'm not choosing to believe what God says about me. The evil one wants to devour our hope and leave us in a pit of despair. But it's time to fight back. I'll fight with you, Susan, I love you.

Uncontrollable Laughter: a tribute to my friend Joy

My parents came to visit this weekend. One night we sat around (like we usually do) and reminisced about some missionaries and their families. I took a walk down memory lane that night as I remembered my best friend from boarding school, Joy. We don't talk anymore, not by my choice, but I couldn't help but remember and smile about the times that we used to laugh.

Have you ever laughed so hard that you cried and/or peed your pants? Have you ever been in a serious situation, where you were supposed to be quiet, but you broke out in uncontrollable laughter--the seriousness of the situation made you laugh harder? That was Joy and I. We would be in church, Sunday School, Class or a dorm meeting and these kicks of uncontrollable laughter would take hold. We would just look at each other, know what the other was thinking and burst into laughter.

I remember one such occasion at lunch in our dining hall. We ate lunch as a whole school, family style. Joy and I got into one of those laughing moods and couldn't stop. Someone asked me to pass them the peas and for some reason that was hilarious to me and I spewed my mouthful of food all in front of me, which made us laugh harder. Another time, Joy was attacked by a very small monkey (BTW, monkeys are not cute, they are evil!)as it jumped from a tree limb onto her head and started to bite her ear, in which it proceeded to bite off her earing and store it in his cheek--what in the world? As I observed, I couldn't believe what was happening, but also couldn't stop laughing long enough to call for help.

I miss those moments of uncontrollable laughter. It always felt so good, so freeing! I rarely laugh like that now, maybe it's because life is not as care free as it used to be-I have to act like an adult now. Or maybe it's because I haven't clicked with anyone like I did with Joy. Who knows, but I miss you Joy. I hope that one day we can laugh like this together again...

Where is my "Africa"?

This past Wed. Marshall and I packed up the kids and drove up to Asheville to attend one of my best friend's "commissioning" service. She and her husband are going on the mission field under the Southern Baptist convention, so their commissioning took place at a humongo church. As we walked into the service, I had some mixed emotions. I mostly felt familiarity because I grew up going to these--usually dreading them because I didn't like to stand out, I was then treated differently once everyone knew I was a missionary kid. (Besides the fact that my parents sometimes made us wear terrible "angel" dresses, as we called them. They were like big mu-mus made out of African cloth and then sometimes we had to sing African songs,in front of the church--talk about a popularity-killer).
As the service went on, all 48 missionaries had a chance to share where they had started on this journey and where they were being sent. As they shared, interspersed with lines from a worship song, my heart started to come alive again. I started to feel things that I had forgotten, love for other cultures, the people of the world that are so interesting and important. My heart started to break again for the oppressed, the poor in devastating situations who don't know Christ. As my heart softened, I began to remember some of my experiences in Africa. I knew some about what these missionaries were about to face because I've experienced a different culture. I've seen extreme poverty, grew up seeing it as the norm. We were rich when we lived in Africa. And then we came to the U.S.
Although we are still rich, I don't always see it like that any more. The longer I've lived in America, the more desensitized I've become to materialism. I used to not care what was in my wardrobe, what kind of car or job I had, I was content to have little. The longer I'm here, I care too much. I find myself coveting lots of different things, thinking, "if only I had 'this' or 'that' I would be content." Sometimes I get "this" or "that" and then I'm still waiting to feel the contentment. Even worse, I start to feel like I deserve those things! Living in the inner city has helped me keep a lot of this in perspective, as we see poverty on a daily basis. But even then, I can drive across town to pick up my kids from preschool (the comfortable side of town) or go clean the million dollar palace and my struggle starts all over again.
I was thinking about this during the missions conference as the speaker was talking about giving ourselves as a living sacrifice (which he equated to a broken heart before God). He talked about when we offer that up, God is able to open our hearts to caring for the lost of the world and once He does that, there will be an inexplicable joy in our hearts. As I soaked it all in, the familiar surroundings (a missions service), the talk and the fact that I was in the presence of missionaries, my heart felt warm, comfortable, alive.
So...what do I mean by "Where is my 'Africa'?" Where is the part of me that I shutdown so many times because it doesn't fit in this culture of consumerism, it's unpopular, it's forgotten. It involves needs instead of wants. It's not a slave to the clock or money. It's taking the time to enjoy others and family. It's living simply, being blessed by all that we receive. It's giving generously to those in need. It's living, ready for the opportunity to care for others. That is the gift that Africa gave to me. This is the part of me that I want to continue to come alive and remember. I want my "Africa" to become home again!

Where's the Joy in the Mess?

Ironically, after my last post, I really struggled with the mess in my house. Isn't it amazing/frustrating how when God enlightens us with something, the accuser brings on the struggle full force. Well, this week I did nothing short of curse under my breath as I picked up Barbie shoes, wet diapers, the same shoes a hundred times, etc. I even cleaned my house the other day, yelling at my children to stop crying about the loud vacuum...mopped the floor in the kitchen that had black splotches all over (what was that?). And then, not ten minutes later, I walk into the kitchen to see a puddle of orange juice all over the table, chair and floor. After cursing under my breath while I cleaned up the mess I scolded my children and probably stored away another therapy session for them as adolescents. I had to cool off by taking a shower. I had pretty much had it.

In the shower, the place God seems to be able to speak to me the most, I felt a tug at my heart. I felt the Lord drawing me back to Himself. I realized that I spend so much time and energy cleaning up my house, when I really just do it to ignore the mess inside. I was hardening my heart towards my children, blaming my lack of control on the mess they make, rather than realizing that my lack of control was coming from ignoring the mess in my heart.

So, you'd think that this insight would have moved me to make a change of some sort, or rather spend more time in prayer (which I didn't make time for). The next day I woke up in more of a funk than ever. It was the worst day I've had in awhile. Fortunately the day after was Sunday, which is today. During the sermon our pastor was talking on prayer and having us walk through the steps of the Lord's prayer. The very beginning is acknowledging God's holiness/praise to Him. As I tried to focus and quiet my heart to praise Him for who He is, not just what He's done, the Holy Spirit gently spoke to me. I realized that God doesn't need me to praise Him--He is so Holy and worthy of praise the mountains and rocks cry out to Him. No, God doesn't need me to praise Him, I need me to praise Him. Praising God takes my eyes off myself (my selfish wants, my sin, my pride). So, hence, the answer to my title, "Where's the Joy in this Mess?" it's in praising God. He is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness--all the fruits I want to bear to my family and then others. So, praising Him means taking my eyes off of me and my mess, (which ultimately comes from a lack of abiding in Him), and focusing on Him.

***Okay, so patience would be good here as I hear my almost three year old scream in the highest pitch, EVER!!! BTW, it turned out that her sister was holding the door to the TV cabinet-???? Who knows!!

So, my hope and prayer is that the Lord would teach me to praise Him in the mundane: changing a diaper, cooking a meal, cleaning, laundry, driving kids to school. I pray that He will grant me the humility to praise Him in the hard things: struggles with my flesh, conflicts with others, disciplining my children, loneliness and disappointments! That I would learn to praise God in all things, even in the mess... Thanks for letting me process!

Why Won't the Mess Just Go Away?

In a perfect world, I would be able to get out of bed in the morning and walk across my bedroom, through the foyer and to the bathroom without spraining my ankle on the 10 pairs of shoes or the Little People scattered around.

In a perfect world, I would be able to walk barefoot through the kitchen without stepping on a bead or walking through a sticky patch from yesterday's juice spill or a mushy crust of bread and be able to make my coffee without hearing the crash of 100 toys being dumped out of box a couple of rooms away.

In a perfect world, my children would pick up after themselves before they got out a new toy. They would sweep up the crumbs under their chairs from their breakfast lunch and dinner. They would pick up their dirty clothes and soggy diapers that they remove each morning, so that I wouldn't have to step on them throughout the day. They would scrub down the chairs and door frames that have a layers of yogurt, ketchup and peanut butter.


But praise the Lord that I don't live in a perfect world. Because in a perfect world I would not need to experience the unfailing love of God. In a perfect world I would not need to grow in humility and patience. In a perfect world I would not need to ask God for the grace to love my children each moment of every day like I do in my imperfect world.

Finally joining the century!!

Many of you will be shocked that I'm actually setting up a blog. Yes, I can be technically savvy if I want to be! I don't know why I've been so against blogging, maybe because I felt like it was impersonal or maybe because I felt like I was missing out on important things because I knew I wouldn't have or take the time to read other people's blogs.

I have humbled myself greatly, especially for my husband's sake. I know that he is gifted in writing and really blesses others through his blog. I have also enjoyed and sympathized with some of my friends as they have processed their thoughts by writing on their blogs.

So "goodbye" pride and "hello" world... And so ends my first blog.