Throughout the week I wonder what the LORD would have me to write. In an attempt to convey a message from my heart, I have the usual distactions. Distractions, buzzers, timers, calls, the dryer’s beep-beep-beep, the knocking at the back door… distractions. And then I thought: distractions? No: life. Life is what’s happening when we’re waiting and planning for something else to happen. And then I think on this further and wonder: is this the story of my motherhood experience? Has it all happened while I was waiting for something else to happen? Have the days passed by while I…
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The other day I was browsing the aisles of a local thrift shop — not that I need another thing, but since many of our things are in a storage unit, on more than one occasion recently, I’ve needed to pick up an item or two. This time, of all things, I needed a cake pan. I didn’t find what I needed, but the trip was more than edifying. An eager, loving young boy was pointing out to his mother all the things he would like to buy for her and telling how nice they would be in her…
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The days seem long but the years are quickly passing. As I typed that, I recalled saying something similar in the early years of motherhood: the days are long and the weeks fly by. I never thought about the swift passage of time in terms my own mortality but in terms of our children growing taller, learning new things—getting older. Now I think of them as young —in their 20’s, 30’s and 40’s— so much life ahead while our years are swiftly slipping away. Early on, older women would tell me to enjoy the children while they’re young, it’ll go so…
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I’ve been mulling over the thought of seasons ending in various stages of bloom. It was below freezing through the night and this morning and as I look out the windows of my warm home, I see all around, summer is falling to the ground. The trees are losing their leaves, many fewer on the trees today than yesterday… more all over the lawn and field. The roses, hydrangeas and other flowering plants are losing their beauty, ending in various stages of bloom. The wood burns hot in my woodstove… wood cut from huge trees that still had more life…
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[cp_quote style=”quote_left_light”] a child, unclear on the concept, loaded the dishwasher so carefully for me.[/cp_quote]So many “Mother’s Day” entries have filled my journals — tomorrow will be another, Mother’s Happy Day. As I read this morning’s entry of Streams in the Desert I marveled at how many of the examples were part of the fabric of my experience as a mother and how many times the Lord gave me not what I wished, but what I needed. He gave me not what I asked for, but all that I hoped for. He has chosen the most amazing things to demonstrate…
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A Welcome Home message from Mother’s Happy Day ~ 2004 [cp_dropcaps]T[/cp_dropcaps]he topic I feel led to share tonight transcends cultures, language and socio-economic boundaries or barriers. When a child wanders out of the way, it doesn’t matter what you’ve got, what you know or what you don’t. It doesn’t matter what you’ve planned or what you hoped would happen. It doesn’t matter where you live or where you’ve been, when a child wanders out of the way, it is a heaviness only a mother or dad of a wayward child knows. It’s a very very lonely road sometimes. It’s a…
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Resolve. Quite a number of times recently I’ve longed for reclaiming former resolve. Sort of the embracing of the old paths — things that became such high priorities in former days. So now, I humbly say, experiences in recent years have really knocked me down and drained my resolve. Sinking in worthlessness jolted my senses and made me realize resolve had slipped away. Wait! Where’d it go? Where did the eagerness go? In the eighties and early nineties I had many young children — the days were full and busy — and while some of my priorities bordered on legalism,…
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[cp_quote style=”quote_left_dark”]Two births — the birth of a mother, the birth of a child.[/cp_quote]Every time I assist a birth I watch and watch and watch for not one, but two miraculous births — first the birth of a mother, that powerful time of dying to herself with a burst of unparalleled bravery and resolve to give every ounce of energy, hope, and strength to that little life in her pain racked body…and then, of course, the emergence of that little baby — that life that’s been at the center of all the hopes, all the tears, all the anticipation, and…
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I just read a blog post written by a young mama — a thirty something year old mama. She wrote about the stage of life that’s hard. The repetitive dailies that are particular to young motherhood. She’s a great writer, part of a group of mamas who have a website to which they contribute entries. It’s for encouragement and help for other young moms — I suspect they are helped more themselves by offering the same to others. I’m so glad I read it (and I hope lots of other young mamas read it, too). It’s a hard stage of…
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Maybe you saw my thoughts yesterday where I wrote about Comparisonitis or making comparisons and how easy it is to become ensnared by this. Comparing ourselves to others, comparing our situations to other’s situations (or our perception of their situations), our accomplishments (or lack thereof) to other’s accomplishments (as we perceive them to be). Then we spend precious moments or days or years mulling over what we have or haven’t done (right), what we do or don’t have, what we have to deal with — compared to others. [Late edit to add a link to another article I wrote regarding…