Author: pamela

Living Long

Living long.  I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently.  I’ve been wondering to my self: what would I be doing today if I had been living long for the last thirty-some-odd years?  What would I have accomplished or done differently had I been living long all these years of marriage and motherhood?

This train of thought is the sort of along the same track of thinking as the question:  How would God have used me (or my life) had my whole life been yielded to Him?  Where would I be today if my whole life had been yielded to Him?

So, living LONG —  I don’t necessarily mean focusing on living a long life, or working at attaining a long life, but rather, living in such a manner as to daily consider the ramifications of decisions, consequences of choosing to do or not do something because of long term effects or results.

Thinking long means weighing decisions more carefully – choosing plans, activities, actions wisely and with forethought instead of simply thinking now – living in the moment – carried away in carefree living.  O, there’s a place for spontaneity and light-hearted fun — but living spontaneously often has significant drawbacks and consequences.

Thinking long, changes the way we live – changes our daily living.  Thinking long changes what we purchase, things we acquire, how we spend our time – and who we spend it with.  Thinking long might mean that we choose to invest in something today — missing out on things we’d “rather” do or buy  — because experience has taught us the consequences of neglect or inaction.

So you can see why I am mulling this over – a lot – these days.  A couple more birthdays have passed in our family — milestones have been reached — time is passing so swiftly and my list of was going to do’s is much greater than my list of have done’s.

I could very easily talk my way out of these reflections – excuse my way out of the consequences or realities. I could (and with a measure of solid justification) explain away the lack of accomplishment, the lack of discipline or skill or whatever.  But the truth is, much of the time throughout my motherhood years I’ve not had long thinking — I’ve not intended to live long — I’ve not keep an eternal perspective as a garland over my days or as a path for my feet.

Caught up in the dailies — and you know the dailies are *so* daily —  in many areas, I’ve thought short.  In many ways, I’ve lived short.  In many instances, I’ve planned short.  Instead of thinking LONG — I’ve thought TODAY.  Instead of investing LONG — I’ve covered TODAY.

Now, at the risk of seeming to back-peddle, I do want to say that by the mercy of God, there are and have been many things — many times — many decisions that were made for the sole purpose of future benefit, future reaping, future provision.  The consequences of not doing things one way or doing them one way have been strong motivators in mothering and training the children.  Governed by “she will do him good and not evil *all* the days of her life” has been an extremely powerful and important “force” in my life.

I’ve sought to determine to live according to God’s Word — it’s governed my thoughts, decisions and actions… much of my life — but what about the times when that determination has waned or wavered?  And what about all those times I thought short instead of long?  What if, by faith, I had lived long?  What if I, by faith, had not wavered when I chose temporal things instead of eternal things?

What if, by faith, I daily had a long or future perspective when making purchases, spending time, loving my husband, teaching our children, keeping our home, planting and gardening, reading books, watching movies, talking with family or friends, making plans…

By the grace of God, I’m determining to live long while He gives me life.

A new start and an old dream

Have you ever had a dream plan or a dream idea you’ve  imagined  so long that you actually hope it never happens — for if it comes to pass, then you’ll no longer have the dream to dream?

We’ve had such a dream… well, maybe better said, we long ago had such a dream.  A dream that was actually a plan.  I never noticed that because so much time had passed and that dream never materialized, I’d stopped dreaming about it and I’d even quit hoping it would happen.

In fact, until recently, I hadn’t even realized that I’d sort of stopped dreaming about most anything future.  Not to sound morbid or even depressed, but I had just sort of stopped thinking: long — long as in long-term.  Not necessarily hopeless or negative — my failing to think long term had just become sort of routine.

Then it struck me that I’ve not stopped thinking long term for our family, meaning our children, rather I’d simply rarely thought long term about my own life or the life of my husband and our long term goals/future.

This realization came about  when I was recently filling out a weekly goals chart.   [As an aside: my husband has us all filling out weekly on a printed sheet: our goals, schedules/routines.   At the bottom of the monthly sheet, there’s a space for tracking 90 day goals and ‘year end’ goals.  This has been extremely helpful to give us a visual record of how we’re spending our time  — in addition, it’s been helpful not only for keeping all of us on track, but also to keep aware of what’s going on with each family member and all the various schedules.]

What made me realize I’d largely stopped dreaming  or long term planning was the content of my “goals” for each category.  They were so… hmmm, so blasé, so nothing — so trivial — not really goals at all.  They were simply logical or probably results of still existing or still being alive at the 90 day mark or the year-end point. But as far as intentional and new accomplishments, I hadn’t been recording anything that would require new skills, new plans, new effort, intention or: dreaming!

When this stark reality hit me,  I marvelled: when did I stop looking ahead?  When did I stop planning ahead — I mean really planning ahead?  When did I stop living long — thinking long term?  ‘Scared me to realize  I’ve just been sort of treading water — doing the needful things each day, fulfilling the tasks of the day — covering the basics with sort of a ‘check-box’ mentality.  And then, the sobering reality washed over me when I realized I’d stopped dreaming.

This sort of introspection inspired me to look — really look — at the faces around our table and consider the lives the Lord has given me to nurture.   Was I seeing them — I mean, really seeing them?  Was I seeing my husband — really seeing him?  And then I had to stop and ask: Lord, am I seeing You?  Am I really seeking You, Lord — truly seeking You?

Acts 2.17  And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams…”

I’ve been asking the Lord to give me a new hope, a new vision, a new: want to! Not content with status quo — to not be content with lesser things — and to not assume my time here is short or unimportant.

Well, as the Lord would have it… He was working this discontent in me to show me my thoughts, to reveal these shortcomings.  And, further, what I didn’t know was that a plan was in the works… and along with that,  He was, and is, once again showing me that He cares too much to leave me where I was/am and wants me to not only be done with lesser things, but to trust Him, to obey Him, to let Him lead — that my fruitful days are not over, that my remaining years are not insignificant. Then, to think long, to live intentionally… and to dream.

And so, with my husband… I’m beginning to dream.  I’ll tell you more later about God’s great provision in the midst of this new start.  It starts with an old dream.

 

The Birthday Card

I received such a beautiful card yesterday.  It was a birthday card — but yesterday was not my birthday — well, not technically, anyway.

But in a way, it was my birth-day, for twenty-five years ago yesterday I gave birth to our first daughter — third child, first daughter.  As I look back, nothing and everything prepared me for that day.  O, it wasn’t the gap between her birth and the birth of the son five years previous — though it was.    It wasn’t that I knew I was to have a daughter — I didn’t know that;  it wasn’t that I was surprised to be having a baby — though I was, initially — for I had prayed for years to have another baby — but years went by; no baby.  I guess, in reality, what I was unprepared for was the absolute, astounding, overwhelming joy I experienced that day. The stunning joy and practical disbelief that washed over me at the hearing: it’s a girl… it’s a girl. Crying, I repeated the refrain, it’s a girl, it’s a girl.  It’s a girl!

The Lord gave me a gift that day — a gift for which I was and am so undeserving.  The inestimable value of the gift of that child remains to this day a mystery to me.  The child I prayed for was not the child I received.  You see, I didn’t then, and do not now, have the capacity to pray for such a gift.  And so my request was insignificant compared to the answer I received.

A few weeks or so before her birth, I began to write down names…. O, the oft rehearsed list of favourite names came easily to me.  But then one Sunday morning, during the singing of a hymn in church, a word in the chorus seemed to ring out so boldly to me: Grace… grace… God’s grace… Grace that will pardon and cleanse within… Grace… grace… God’s grace… Grace that is greater than all our sin.  My hand resting on my round tummy — the baby moving within… I heard & sang the words: Marvelous, matchless, wondrous… infinite grace… freely bestowed on all who believe…

Grace… I stood there… praying:  Lord, I prayed, if this is a baby girl, then one of her names will be Grace… and I will tell her about You.

So, you see, nothing and everything prepared me for the gift of the baby girl that day, twenty-five years ago.  Space and time do not allow for the recounting of the ways the Lord has blessed me through the years in the gift of this ‘baby-girl.’  As I told her again yesterday, were it not for her, I’d never have made it through the years.  I meant it:  I don’t  know how I’d have made it were it not for her.  What she has given me, what she taught me, what she has been to me, I can never repay. Her gracious, tender, generous ways — her eagerness, thoughtfulness, industriousness and a host of other gifts all wrapped up in merciful loving-kindness carried me through motherhood.

Perhaps only another mother of many could understand the significance of what I’m saying here.  I had this daughter’s loving support and help… year after year.   Perhaps only a mother who tried to do to many things and had many things slip through the cracks will understand what I’m saying here.  I had this daughter’s tireless encouragement.  I had this daughter’s enthusiastic help.  And then, perhaps only a mother who failed to stay focused, failed to keep priorities straight, failed to daily live in tender devotion to her children, will understand the gift of a daughter who remained loyal and merciful.

So when I opened that card yesterday… I cried.  I cried with joy. I cried with sorrow.   I cried with regret.  I cried with thankfulness that God, in His mercy, has redeemed me, has restored the years the locusts have eaten, has given me new hope, new zeal, new passion, new eyes for motherhood… though I so often didn’t even see my lack, didn’t even grasp my blindness to so many things.  I don’t know how the days will go… I don’t know how some sorrows will be corrected in life, I don’t know how some losses will be redeemed, I don’t know how some bitternesses will be sweetened, I don’t know how some brokenness will be mended — but I do know this — back when “my world” came crashing down around me and I wondered if I would ever have joy again; I wondered if we would ever smile again; a few things happened:  the first, and most important was that God gave me a new heart.  Sincerely, that was most significant.

But one of the other things that happened in those days, was that this daughter, this gift from the Lord, this  grace in my life, stood by me.  Stands by me still.  Her encouragement… I can never repay. O, how I recall crying to her in those days — sorrowful that I had been insensitive to her, sorrowful that I so often didn’t see her — just saw what needed to be done. I sort of became such a perfunctory mother.  This daughter helped me to see all this so clearly, so tenderly.  I owe her a debt of gratitude I can never repay.

And so yesterday morning — undeserving, I opened the card — the birthday card — and I read the beautiful sentiment of gratitude, a gift from this daughter; this precious daughter, the wind beneath my wings… this gift of grace from the Lord.  Marvelous, infinite, matchless grace.

I smile tonight… thankful to the Lord for the long journey.  Regretful for some of the days behind me…  but Hopeful for the days ahead.  Rejoicing at what He has done.  To God be the glory.

Happy Birthday ♥ sweet girl.

 

 

Consider this…

You’re never as right as you think you are — and — you’re never as wrong as you think you are.  Deep down, I know this — and you probably know this, too.  But we, too often, get stuck dwelling on our dilemmas or grieving over our losses.  We get stuck, too, in maintaining our ‘rightness’ and fail to stop and consider our ‘wrong-ness’ about a matter.

And then someone comes along and after hearing part of the story,  illuminates the darkened or obscured side of the matter.  And then we see, much to our regret, that maybe, just maybe, we’ve been wrong about that matter after all.  Wise counsel is invaluable.  Impartial counsel, even more so.

If you remember this next week and you’ll be miles ahead of the pack.

But the pack just might still believe they’re more right than you.  Maybe they’ll even think that your wrongs are worse than their wrongs.  Worse yet, maybe they’ll convince you to believe that your wrongs are the worst wrongs. That last one’s usually the devil, by the way.  Most of us a pretty good at defending our right to be right.

Truth is, the answer is usually somewhere in the middle — but we’re usually too right or too wrong to see that.

When these different scenarios happen to me — or happen in my life — I don’t usually want to do the necessary.  The necessary is to look at the situation from their perspective.  And then to ask the question:  is there any truth in this? Usually I’ll find that, yes, there is a smidge of truth — just a smidge.  If that’s my finding, then I’ve learned that sometimes I’m being too prideful to objectively consider the problem.  I then need to ask a next question and it is this:  if they were me and I were them, what would I think? Hmmm?  Hmmm.  Perhaps I am wrong.  Okay, yes, I am wrong.

When I come to this revelation, then I know I’ve got to do whatever I can to make that situation right.   Regardless the outcome, I need to, so far as it depends on me, do whatever it takes to make the situation right.  I need to get myself in such a state as that I am not seeking to defend my rights or to point out their wrongs.  And, that’s so NOT easy sometimes — especially when we perceive we have a legitimate reason for our behaviour or that that person has some of their information wrong.

There’s always more to the story.  More to a situation than meets the eye.  And usually,  we’d both come to the same conclusions had we all the facts in the beginning.

In a houseful of various personalities, you’ll have lots of opportunities to practice these experiences — lots of occasions to instruct others about them, too.  I have found it’s so much easier to teach this to others than to experience this personally.   But I can relate these lessons to others, though, because I know them experientially.

Just remember:  You’re never as right as you think you are — and — you’re never as wrong as you think you are.

that guy

My husband and I were invited to a dinner at a large church in Seattle… it was sort of charity dinner or some such thing.  I don’t remember.  So, anyway, we were directed to specific tables with assigned seating.

Later, when I would tell my co-workers about that evening, I recall commenting that I didn’t know why in the world we were seated at that particular table.  There was a couple, seated across the table from Wes and me, who seemed like they were straight out of some parenting/outdoorsman/selectric typewriter magazine or something.  Everyone thing was going along fine, very cordial and pleasant.  Well, that was until that guy started talking.  And talking.

He continued talking through the whole meal, dessert and coffee.  He talked about his work, his hobbies, his children, his van, his vacations and his children.  But he didn’t talk about his children in a manner that was particularly complimentary or even to brag.  It was as though his comments all centered around what he thought about having children, about being a parent taking children on vacation, taking them to school, or getting them a bike or some such thing.  I, I, I, do this… I did that…

As we all sat there listening and eating dinner, every now and then someone would make a comment or ask a question regarding something this man had shared.  I remember cringing at one point — hopefully not visibly — that that was going to trigger another story or diatribe about his sometimes very inconvenienced life.  Uh-oh, yep… there he goes.

As the evening went on, he talked about the van.  The Vanagon van.  The Volkswagen Vanagon van.  You know we picked it up last year… Yada, yada, yada. It’s so great for trips, gets such great gas mileage, Consumer Reports, very economical,  even the wife [bleck: the. wife.] can drive it, it’s great for camping… you know, the last time we went camping, I had to…

I suppressed my comments.  I even suppressed laughter, because, by this time, the whole table of eight — well, seven of us, were sort of glazing over.  You know that gentle tilting of the head, with an occasional squint and nod?  Yep, that was us.  And, that’s what that evening was all about.

We returned home later that evening — with our two children.  In our not a Vanagon. And I recall I was sooooo thankful for the husband the Lord gave me.

Well, I finished sharing with my co-workers the next morning about the dinner the previous evening.  And I recall saying, I do not know why in the world we were seated at that table… it was a group of people with whom we had absolutely nothing in common.

In time I would look back on that evening and also back to my comment that we were seated with a group of people with whom we had nothing in common.  Not only would I grow up a lot.   But as the Lord would have it, I would bear more children — and drive a van. ~smile~

Eventually,  somewhere along the way, the Lord would bring that event to mind and it would become of much greater value to me — it would become very instructive as I would teach in women’s groups and retreats, etc.  You see, I began to realize that it wasn’t true that we had nothing in common with the others.  What really was true was the fact that none of the others (except maybe the man’s wife) had shared in that evening.  So, in reality, that guy didn’t have anything in common with us… the six spectators.  But it was because he didn’t attempt to connect with the others and left no room for others to connect.

And so, here’s some of the instruction I received from that guy (though my mother had already told me these things): Don’t tell everyone everything you know.  Not everyone wants to hear everything you know.  Listen to people, you don’t always need to be the one doing the talking. Everyone has something to say.

So, I thank my mother for giving me that advice through the years and I thank that guy for the practical and vivid application. That experience instructed me, from that point on,  to be determined that, so long as it depended on me, such an evening not be repeated, to attempt to include everyone in  conversations when seated at a table like that,  to ask questions and to look for ways to draw out the more quiet ones — everyone has something to say — something worth hearing.

Though we never saw him again, I’m thankful to be still gleaning from the lessons I learned that night from that guy.  I wish I could say I don’t fall into the trap of talking too much or too long… but I’m working on it.  I’m just always thinking and thinking of things to say and to write.  Maybe it’s good there’s not enough time for either one.

 

April Fool’s Day

Well, I’m thinking that no April Fool’s Day would be complete without first agreeing  with the Psalmist:

The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. They are corrupt, they have done abominable works, there is none that doeth good.”

And then, including an admonishment from the Proverbs:
He that walketh with wise men shall be wise: but a companion of fools shall be destroyed.”  –13.20

April Fool’s Day has long been a day of silly tricks and pranks at our house — the one day a year that shenanigans can be played and everyone’s on the lookout for what they might find next.

Early on we had to make some “house-rules” for this day so that no one would get hurt, waste food, break anything or cause anything to break.  You know, those unintended consequences of “fun.”  It’s almost always those unintended consequences that get us, don’t they?!  Those things that come back to nip our heels or pay us back when we least expect.

So, we made rules early on — and with three sets of boys, plus one, we’ve had quite a host of hilarious AprilFool’s Day pranks.  As I shared on my Facebook page, the first son still holds the records for ingenuity!  He seemed to pull out all the stops when it came to creatively playing jokes — but, amazingly, they were always within the established boundaries — and very funny.

The boundaries were set early on when someone put salt in the sugar and sugar in the salt.  One trade wasn’t so bad — the other was.  Another time, when one put green food colouring in the milk, no one would drink it — so, that’s when we decided: pranks could not wreck/waste food.

Another time, one took all the hinges off the doors… no one ever got hurt, but with so many littles at the time, we thought perhaps someone could get hurt, so: no dangerous tricks.  They were careful, from then on, to do creative and clever tricks.

So, I’ll tell you about one such AprilFool’s Day… quite some time ago.  I should have known there was going to be a whole lot of surprising when I walked down the hall to see that everything from the living room (except the piano) was stacked in the kitchen — a room that was not all that large!  How he moved everything in there, I still marvel.  And,  I mean: everything.  I honestly laughed so hard… seeing just the kitchen table and chairs in the middle of the living room.

Okay, one more.  Another AprilFool’s Day… again, I knew I was in for a real fun time when I opened my bedroom door and the other two bedroom doors shut!   And, as I walked down the hall I noticed the living room lamp was off, so I switched on the light – still no lamp-light. I looked around the table to see that the cord was unplugged – so I plugged in the lamp using the cord that looked to me as if it had simply fallen out of the socket.  Well, that cord was attached to a “boombox” that was situated under the table.  Omy – what a shock when that music was blaring!!  I couldn’t unplug that cord fast enough!! :o)    Then, I went into the kitchen to fix breakfast — where discovered that the faucet didn’t work, so I opened the doors to reach under and turn on the water… only to see the wall phone had been placed under the sink with a note taped to it:  “Time to call the plumber! the note read.  Well, when I did finally get the water turned on, it was a shocking experience — for the sprayer had been taped down and sprayed water straight out into the kitchen.  I was laughing so hard I couldn’t instantly turn off the water.  We all laughed and laughed.  I think that little sprayer trick was played many times that day.

And that same sprayer trick was played here in the kitchen today by children who weren’t even alive in the time of the above stories.

It’s funny how life goes… it sort of repeats and repeats itself.  Or so it seems, sometimes.

They’re not the only ones to play a few tricks.  Stretch-tite plastic wrap stretched evenly over the toilet bowl is virtually undetected.  At first.  The first time I ever did that was a very long time ago when I was working as a cook for a Christian school & daycare… and the men’s bathroom was where the toiletbowl wrapping happened.  When the pastor of that large church came into the lunchroom… I was told he was laughing as he shared with some of the other employees about the AprilFool’s prank.  I remained very busy cooking.  I don’t know if I will ever meet him again, but if I do, I’ll apologize. ;o)

 

Dupers Duping

So, I’m drinking my tea… browsing the news (okay, yes, and checking in on Facebook), and I noticed an article about new food packaging.  Arrggghh!  If there’s a subject that’s really gotten me going lately, it is this!!  Less food in “better” packaging for more money!  Arrggghh!

Bought a box – bag – whatever, package of bathroom tissue from Costco — the marketing! Omy.  These rolls were giant rolls = like getting two regular rolls in one.  A week or so later, I’m standing there looking at the two packages.  One package contained x number of rolls, x square-inches of tissue.  This NEW!! giant roll (ahem, like getting two regular rolls in one) package had fewer square inches – for more money.   But it FELT like more — that’s what the package said.  I even took the time to jot down on my palm-pilot (well, okay, a post-it-note) the product content information.  It wasn’t enough that I could see the lesser/difference – I wanted to have my written proof.

I was going to call the company – armed with information and give them my opinion.  But I didn’t… I lost my little post it note.  And then later, I lost my nerve/incentive to call.

Then, on a couple of different occasions I was baking and noticed the saltine crackers were smaller; I was making a graham-cracker crust and I thought:  whatintheworld?  These squares are smaller, too! I opened another box – this one, newer.  Again, whatintheworld?  Already broken squares in handy take along – stay fresh – stack-packs?!?!  I do not want to take these along anywhere!  This is not handy to me!  This is not convenient to me and these are not economical stay-fresh stack packs to me!  I’m thinking: They’re not going to be around long enough to need to be kept fresh. ;o)

So, today I decided I would call the company.   On the line was someone I’m sure not born in Snohomish (but I digress).  And so, I proceeded to tell her what I thought of the handy packaging and the convenient stack packs and the economical family size – they’re neither convenient nor family size.  I told her that a recipe calling for a package of graham crackers is not going to produce same volume and so from now on, in addition to requiring the purcha$e of more boxe$, I will have to continually weigh the crackers – as I’m sure they’ll continue to repackage and reduce the volume.

I told her that consumers are not ignorant that all this handy and convenient packaging is a sly attempt to deceive consumers.  I went on to tell her this great deception is, in reality, a great insult — actually mocking the intelligence of their customers — that they’re not thinking of the customer’s convenience at all, that their packaging is not green, it’s greed!

When she thanked me for calling today, I told her I wasn’t confident my call would matter much, but that I wasn’t just calling to rant, but that I wanted them to know that I’d rather pay more (exhibit A = already do) for an honest weight and measure.  She assured me my call was important (I felt like I was on hold with GroupHealth listening to a recording).   She said they were very interested in hearing customer’s views and then reminded me that there would be some settling in the packaging.  I agreed but reminded her that I was talking about weight of the box of graham crackers, ritz crackers — not how a box of crackers or cereal looks when opened.  I told her I got that one.

I think my boys have tried that one: Ma, there’s a lot missing?!?!?!  O, it must’ve been due to settling during shipping.  O yes, boys, that must be it – silly me.

We want to believe that food companies have the consumers’ best interest at heart.  But, especially in this day and age, I’m tending to think that there’s a lot of duping going on.  It seems advertisers are working like never before to spin information to make things seem much more desirable than ever before.

So the next time you go to the store to buy a box of graham-crackers (or just about any other product)  if you haven’t noticed already, the weight/volume is less.  Again.  And, yes, the price has jumped up — on many things, quite a bit!  Consumers really are noticing these seemingly little changes. All New Packaging! Less Food! Don’t be duped by the dupers… they’re telling you they’re saving you money — and you just might buy it.  They’re keeping the height of the box the same or they’re introducing to you a new shape, a new, convenient, stay-fresh package, etc., etc.  But take another look, the box is thinner.  Those handy stack packs, those stay-fresh-stack-packs – inside are shorter.   That juice may have a new handy grab and pour design.  This only equals less volume.   This isn’t new… it’s been going on for some time… as this article shows.  In the end, they think you won’t notice anything but price.

But I know you, you’re smarter than that.

Here are a few numbers for you:

Nabisco: 1.800.NABISCO
Kellogg’s: 1.269.961/2000
Kraft: 1.847.646.200

Birthday Princess

Today is not my birthday.  Yesterday was not my birthday.  The day before yesterday… was.  Yet, I woke up yesterday expecting that it should still be my birthday – you know,  treats, party hats and special treatment.  I call this the birthday-princess mentality.  It happens.

The birthday princess mentality is kin to other princess mentalities — you know, the date-princess, the shopping-princess, the napping-princess.  You get the idea.  It’s as if whenever some delightful thing/event/outing happens, it ought to continue happening, I mean, I am the birthday (or whatever) princess after all.

I woke up this morning to the reality of Monday, and like most Monday’s, I felt the night’s sleep was entirely too brief and the morning came far too soon.  The morning was ushering in the day that held much to be done.  I knew much was on the list of to-do’s — but I was still feeling  too-special-to-work — and then came the nearly startling reality: What? It’s not my birthday?!?!

I must accept the reality that birthdays are a once-a-year deal.  Regrettably, it’s only once a year the birthday princess can wear her tiara (and get away with it).  At Claire’s the other night (on my birthday) I was looking over the displays of barrettes and hairbands and noticed a beautiful diamond tiara.  Setting my handbag down and adjusting the tiara on my head, I whispered, psssssst,  to my husband and daughter in another part of the small shoppe.  They were amused.  They did not buy me the beautiful tiara.

I knew at that moment I had few precious hours left to be the birthday princess.  Even still, no tiara.

Just to clarify, I’m not talking about the princess complex (though I think we all occasionally have, or suffer, the princess-complex from time to time). The princess-complex is that overarching need to be found desirable.   The desire to be the darling — the center of attention.  Or, maybe for others (and I’m not referring to this either), the Cinderella complex – you know, the strong need/wish that someone will come rescuing from whatever oppressive/poor/neglected/unloved current plight — that surely there’s a prince out there that will make all the troubles of the world go away and life will be convenient, rich and effortless.

No, the birthday-princess mentality is much simpler that all that.  It’s just the delight in being made to feel special for the day.  The normal routines are sort of set aside.   Maybe that’s why it’s so fun.  Sort of like dressing up, eating fine foods at a fancy restaurant – eating a delicious meal you don’t plan for, shop for, cook or clean up after.  For most of us, it’s not real life — for most of us, the other side is more our daily life — you know, the planning, cleaning, washing, cooking, serving and cleaning up the kitchen afterward.   So it’s the sweet stuff  that makes for the birthday princess dreams.

In reality, some of us can’t really take too much of the birthday princess pampering.  I know it’s usually way too much for me to have the extra attention — to be on the receiving end of the service.  Even more, it’s hard for me not to keep doing or want to keep doing chores.

Our daughter, Kathryn, prepared the most delicious meal the other night for my ‘family birthday’ dinner.   So many delicious foods – she made beautiful hors d’Oeuvres,  salad, roast and baked potatoes; the softest  fresh potato rolls… Omy – sooo good!  And to finish the meal, she served a delicious dessert.  She’d even gotten flowers!!   She made the whole birthday meal look and taste beautiful — it was all delightful.  And as if that weren’t enough, she also prepared an exquisite birthday breakfast for the whole family here the next morning — that was in addition to  a birthday coffee and a special birthday dessert made for our church meal.  All the while she was preparing to go out of town for a couple of weeks — but that didn’t hinder her generosity.

I loved watching her work/create all the different dishes.  Though she often shooed me out of the kitchen, I found it so hard to stand by and just watch.  So, whenever I could, I washed a bowl or scrubbed a pan… trying to shadow her as she cooked.  She told me, no, no, no… it’s your special day – you’re the birthday princess!

And then it dawned on me:  Yes! Yes, I was born to be a princess.  But I was also born to work.

And I’m so glad.

 

 

Be clear on the concept

I snapped this photo one day when  one of our little boys was doing dishes for me and when I came in to check his progress, I noticed the dishes weren’t loaded properly — an error that was glaringly obvious  to me.  Funny thing was, it wasn’t obvious to him.  He was actually very proud of how neatly he had put the cups and glasses into the dishwasher rack.  I showed him that, while they were neat, they weren’t going to get clean inside because they would only fill with water, they would not be washed out by the sprayer beneath.

As I thought on those cups, I began to draw parallels to motherhood.  And, thus, I decided to post this photo and attach a  label to it.  Because, really, it truly does help to be clear on the concept! And so it is, unless and until we’re clear on the concept, we’re going to experience failure after failure.  And, we’ll likely want to give up.  And we may even do so!

We need to get a hold of a vision… a fruitful plan and purpose for motherhood — for our motherhood – for our mothering!  We need to seize the moment, as it were.  Because, I tell you the truth — the moments are fleeting and the time will be past before you know it!  We need to grab hold of a decision to love our families as they ought to be loved!

I genuinely believe it’s when we truly discern and determine to love and serve our families, when we begin to strive for excellence, when  we begin to grab hold of the great and precious promises of the Lord and when we seek to live in joyful compliance to His Word and His marvelous plan for our life, we will have His great blessing and encouragement and we will be joyful mothers, joyful keepers at home. But it takes a real want to!  And it takes a turning away from unfruitful things, distractions and time wasters.

Over the years, I’ve worked and reworked many plans, many routines for homekeeping… and I keep working and reworking them out as my family grows and daily activities change.  And so, it is with confidence that I share with you that there are MANY tricks you can learn and implement —and if you will— you will find you truly enjoy keeping your home! The better part of that is that your children will grow up SEEING a glad mother who ENJOYED  *BEING* a mother to her family.  I can also tell you, to my shame, that when I have NOT  diligently sought to serve and love my family, when I’ve not striven for excellence or dedication, I have failed and my family  suffered for it.  And thus, by the grace of God, I humbled myself, rededicated myself to the task and sought the Lord’s blessing — and true to His Word, He helped me, He restored my path.

As one of my daughters reminded me recently: Mama… remember how you said, your children may not remember all you did here, but they’ll remember how it felt here.  Yes, I remember saying that.  Many times.  And that’s one of the little admonitions that fuels my work and strengthens my resolve each day.

So, I just want to say to you, dear mother, you’ll do fine… just be sure you’re clear on the concept.

Springtime… seasons

The lacy green leaves are slowly appearing and daffodils are beginning to bloom around the old willow tree.  Isn’t it an awesome wonder: Every year, every passing season, has its marvelous reminders of the lavish mercy and everlasting kindness of the Lord.  May I never take this for granted nor think it not majestic.

Passing through many seasons in thirty-three years of marriage, I so hope I never again take for granted my husband’s care and thoughtful gestures.   You know, it’s something we all do — take for granted things that are or have been long present with us.  We assume things will continue just as they have… and then an illness, an accident, a tragedy occurs and that once steady, once forever, once ‘always there’ part of our life is taken away, lost, given away — whatever.

I was reading a long, detailed obituary this morning — a recounting of the life of a beloved wife, mother, grandmother.  A story of a stranger, yet after reading her obituary, a friend.  I began to think of different things I might want to write about my own mother; things I might want to write about my husband, my children, my friends.   All filling different spaces, memories, needs and seasons in my life — yet, do I take them for granted?  Do I tell them today the things I might be called upon to record in tomorrow’s obituary?  Might I never have another season with them?

My husband has the music player beside our bed set to play a few songs for me to hear when he wakes me up each morning.  He’s carefully chosen such encouraging music for me — I’m so blessed and inspired by the music — but, really, it’s the words I hear that linger in my thoughts and set the tone of the morning.  Like prayer and God’s Word… the music stays with me, greatly inspiring me for the day.

Ever mindful of just what I need, lately he’s included a song that’s been particularly encouraging to me.  It’s called Springtime’s Coming, sung by Kim Hopper ( The Hopper’s are Southern gospel singers).  Interestingly, I actually only really like a very select few Southern Gospel groups and wouldn’t ordinarily choose this particular one, but there’s something particularly beautiful and instructive to me in the one song he’s chosen for me.  I can’t find a clip to post, nor can I find the lyrics to share with you.  But here’s my attempt to share it with you. It goes something like this…  I’m sorry to not have the beautiful music for you.

Springtime’s Coming

It’s been a long hard winter, Spring’s long overdue…
Icy wind, cruel and bitter has chilled hope out of you,
you want to look ahead, but your heart’s so full of dread,
you can’t see the subtle changes in the air…
Springtime’s coming…

On the heels of a Winter wind, balmy breezes
will blow across your garden again,
the seeds of hope you’ve planted,
are alive beneath the snow, the blooms are yet to show…
this season will end.

Springtime’s coming, after the winter wind.

I know it’s hard to imagine that Spring’s on the way…
With the trees brown and barren and the skies so gray

Right before your eyes God has the sweetest surprise
All the new things He’s prepared to colour your world…
Springtime’s coming.

As long as heaven and earth remain
God promises the seasons will change
Springtime’s coming.

My husband gave me this card some years back for our anniversary… Many seasons have passed from that anniversary to this day.  And I can truly say that God has had the sweetest surprises in store for me following some of the seemingly most barren seasons.  Praise the Lord.  He only does all things well.  May I never take this for granted.