Category: Motherhood

A special birthday

When Timothy was born, there was a brief hush over the delivery room — enough time for me to realize there must be a problem.  Fearing the worst, I asked my husband if the baby had died.  No, he said, he’s going to be fine.

As Timothy was born, the doctor could see that the cord was wrapped around his next and as he  loosened it, it was obvious that there was also a complete knot in his umbilical cord the hush was their surprise that he was just quiet and still — completely fine.  The team of attendants appeared to be amazed.  The doctor inserted an instrument into the knot, shaking it loose, and then continued to gently massage his little body.  He told me that that knot had been there for many months as that “little guy” must’ve turned himself around and swum through the loop of the cord.

The next morning, as the doctor was making his rounds, he came in to check on me and baby Timothy.  You are so lucky, he said.  And I told him, no… no, I’m really very blessed.  God has been so good to me.  I knew that then.  I know that now.  Out the window that morning I could see a lone daffodil in a planter… the ‘tea-cup’ flower had just opened.  It was a bright encouragement to me — and the site of blooming daffodils continues to bless me over the years – for that  and so many other event’s meanings.

And so, today, twenty three years later I’m still in awe at what the Lord has done in the life of that baby – now young man.  There have been many instances through the years where the Lord clearly marked his life — times of sickness, times of great spiritual growth, times of God’s clear hand of guidance, direction and protection.  From a very young age, this young man had a clear and present awareness of the Lord’s call on his life – a matter that Timothy continually shared with others.

And he has answered that call and for many years has walked by faith in the ministry of the Gospel.

I have no greater joy than
to hear that my children
walk in truth.
3 John 1.4

It is with great joy that we celebrate this son’s birthday today — and, happily, we’ll even celebrate it with him this year as it’s been many years since he’s been home on his birthday!    He flies in late tonight!

We’re thankful the Lord has used him so sweetly in our family… that He’s used him in Ghana and now in Mexico.  Today we’re reminiscing as we recall the many blessings of the Lord through the years, the many ways God’s worked on his behalf, many ways God has uniquely gifted and provided.  We thank the Lord for the many times He’s healed Timothy from various sicknesses, from many bouts of malaria and the many adventures God’s brought him through.  We also recall, with tears of joy and humble thanksgiving, the great miracle of healing the Lord gave Timothy last summer.

Timothy is a joy to me… to us all.  For all of this — for the gift of his life, for him, for all these miracles — we are so grateful to the Lord.

 

retracing pages of days gone by

Maybe you do this from time to time: see a photo of yourself and wonder how could that have been you?  Or read something you’ve written and say: I recognize the writing… but how could I have forgotten that!?!

Recently, while putting away fresh laundry, I stopped and looked up at photographs I see — but don’t really see  — every day.  And so there I stood a long time — gazing at the framed photographs that hang on the wall above my husband’s dresser.  I was sort of transported back in time and was so longing for those days.  And then I sort of mentally calculated just how much time had passed from those days to these and just had to marvel at all that’s transpired.   I thought, I know the girl in the photograph is, or was, me.  I know the babies are, or were, mine — my husband seems so much the same  — but I can’t believe that face of that girl in the photograph is the same face this old girl sees in the mirror each morning.

I continued on my cleaning and sorting of papers and books, journals and photographs… marveling all the while… still thinking about the swift passage of time.

And then I came across a thin notebook I used during the time we lived on Orcas Island… now it seems at once such a long and such a short time ago.   The children in the photographs were one and three years old.  As I read the notes from sermons, prayer groups and Bible studies, it was as if I was reliving those days and as if no time had passed from then till now.  I could almost feel the the wood of the pews in the old church building and could almost smell the scent of the foods served in the different homes where meetings and gatherings took place.

I tearfully rejoiced that I believed then what I still believe today — so thankful I relied upon and trusted God then and yet more so today.  But then I tearfully regretted that I haven’t live out that reliance and trust fully each day from those days till these.

I’m so glad I took so many notes — a practice I’ve kept through the years.  But reading through the pages, I noticed a lack.  I’m now painfully aware and so regret that I haven’t kept my own advice to others: regularly writing down the things my children have said and done.  O, how I wish I had recorded the things I was so absolutely certain I’d never forget.

How could I possibly forget that great thing, that wonderful achievement, that dear request or that cutest ever comment?


seventeen years

teacuppamela.pngIn a moment, in a twinkling of an eye…  it hardly seems possible that seventeen years have passed by since our seventh child was born.  How marvelous the Lord has been to bless us with this son.  How sweet the Lord is.  I am taking the time to write about this tonight bcz over the years I’ve talked to many, many women who’re ambivalent to yield their childbearing to the will and determination of the Lord.

I’ve noticed there’s sort of a point of questioning family size at odd times.  I’ll give you some examples.  Most Christian families would say and agree that the Lord always provides.  And then, most families, at some point or another, face financial difficulties.  Faith is shaken and they question the Lord’s providence.   And their family size.

Another example of questioning might come along with aging.   Birthdays can be odd.  One birthday may come and go with no real fanfare or notice.  But add a zero to a higher first digit and odd things happen. I’ve noticed that twenty-nine year old women, as do thirty-nine year old women, have a crisis of belief as the next birthday approaches — sort of like moving the large weight on the scale at the doctor’s office.  Advancing age (remember 30 is *old* to many women) makes some women feel like they’re past their prime and they’re too old to have children.  These are usually the ages when men and women start to calculate what their own age will be when their last child is twenty.  And, face it, to a thirty year old or to a forty year old, fifty or sixty years old seems quite ancient!

Another point of questioning family size usually comes along at another odd time.  Odd numbered children seem to really grab the attention of mothers and dads.  They might think, ah, we have two… what’s this?  Three children?  Or they might have four children and a fifth is on the way — that seems staggering to some.  But I’ve noticed, in particular, that the tipping point for most families is that seventh child.  That seventh child ushers in a whole new dynamic.   Perhaps it’s bcz at seven children, the size of the family vehicle really becomes an issue.  Bedding and bedroom arrangement becomes an issue.  Seating at the dining table becomes an issue (as did going from four to five and so on).   Sets of dishes, sets of silverware and a host of other things change when a family of eight becomes a family of nine as the seventh child is born.

It seems, though, that it was at the point of the pregnancy and birth of the seventh child, that we seemed to have come to both a very strong conviction and resolute conclusion that the Lord was (and is) Lord of the womb and that it was His to open or to close, His to provide or withhold, His to determine and it was ours to yield to Him.

It was the precious gift and birth of our seventh child that really did resolve for me the questions and concerns about the present and future days being solely in the Hand of the Lord.  So, then, it was in faith that we resolved to not question the Lord or to feel apologetic for His dealing in our life.  I think it was at that point that I knew that I knew He was working in a unique way and that had He chosen one or none or seven children — He, alone, was Lord and He, alone, had the preeminence as the merciful, only faithful, only wise God.

The morning the baby was born, Wes named our son, Stephen — the naming of each of the children is a story for another time — and he prayed that as he grew, God would mightily use this young man for His purposes and that whatever happened to Stephen in his life, may his life be fully yielded to the Lord and may he stand up for the Lord, as a minister of the gospel — faithful to the end.

How grateful I am to the merciful Lord for the precious gift of Stephen, our seventh child, born November 2nd… seventeen years ago.   We’ve surely seen that the Lord’s will, done His way, does not lack His supply.

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motherhood means goodbyes

The goodbye’s of motherhood.  I’ll tell you, I never thought about this end of the deal as the children were coming along and our family increased in size every other year.  I didn’t even think about it when the children would go on occasional outings or when they headed off to camp every once in a great while.  It just didn’t occur to me.  I don’t know why — but it didn’t.  O, sure, I did nod my head in total ignorance agreement when women would give me knowing smiles and advice that these days would go so fast.   I would agree with them — as. if. I. understood.

But, I’m telling you, I know now — that I really had no idea what lay ahead.  I’m pretty sure I thought we’d always be “us”  and things would just go along.  I’d be in the kitchen cooking, baking and cleaning and we’d always be home-educating or home-birthing or drinking 10 gallons of milk a week and I’d be driving a whole van-full of children around f.o.r.e.v.e.r.  I’m sure I thought we’d a.l.w.a.y.s. be whatever, wherever, however we were.  You know, us.  Always us.

But then there were more goodbyes.   Marriage, leaving home, missions trips, camps.  Goodbyes. How could the raw emotion of the goodbyes have been so surprising when it began to happen with more frequency?

I don’t know… but the well of motherly emotion with each goodbye was (and still is) surprising to me.  So, I’ve had to revisit this matter of goodbye’s and reevaluate my thinking to accept the wonderful fact that motherhood means goodbyes.  And it is a wonderful fact, really.

Each goodbye means a new adventure.  Each goodbye means things are happening — and, for the most part, each goodbye is really a blessing.  It’s taken a lot of goodbyes to finally begin to realize and rejoice over this.  This is what I’ve wanted – for I haven’t been mothering so I could keep them with me — I’ve been mothering for the sheer joy of giving them to the Lord in gratitude for His blessing me with their life and for whatever He had prepared ahead for them.  Our children are God’s gift to Himself.

Ye are our epistle written in our hearts,
known and read of all men”
2Corinthians 3.2

As we drove to the airport last week, we arrived and Timothy hopped out of the car, bag and backpack in hand.  I was happy for him — happy he had another mission opportunity, happy for the adventure that lay ahead for him and happy that the Lord had healed and strengthened him that this was even possible.  Happy… really.

And the car door closed and it was time to drive away.  Still smiling at the adventure that lay ahead for him.

And then it began to rain.

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internet junkie

teacuppamela.pngThere have been times when I imagined that one day I’d be sitting in a circle waiting for my turn to introduce myself and then when the person beside me finished their introduction and small talk, they’d glance at me, signaling my turn, and then I’d say:  I don’t know why I’m here or how I got to this point, but here I am.   So, hello, I’m pamela and I’m an internet junkie.

I used to say (and laugh about it) that one day there’s going to be a branch of medicine dedicated to the emotional problems, effects and disorders associated with computer abuse use and result of internet addiction.  I used to think it was isolation that would be a great problem — but now, that’s not what I think to be the great problem.  Now I think it’s distraction.  Distraction from what’s really going on.  Distraction from what’s being said, directions being given, loved being shared — but missed bcz the computer is an attention siphon.  The computer (or, ahem, handheld whatever’s) and the internet are erasers of time.  Erasers of special events and conversations.   They’re what obscure those moments you don’t even know you’re missing.   Until later.  The internet took the place of some days, months or years you will never see again.  I know this is true… grievous as it was to me to see and admit.

I must say that it’s been hard to think of resuming writing regularly bcz I fret I’ll fail or revert back to old habits of distraction and ‘internet addition’ that contributed to the darkness of the valley earlier this year.  As I’ve told you before, I didn’t realize just how distracted I’d become or how wrapped up in my projects I was each day.  So, I’ve had to be exceedingly careful not to slip back into old patterns.

If you’ve never been an internet junkie, then you have no idea what I’m talking about.  But if you have, or are, you know exactly what I’m talking about and you have or had the same trouble I have had.

And if you are on the net all day or many hours a day and neglect important things to attend to lesser things and you don’t think you are addicted to the net, I’d say you’re in denial.  I know, I was there once, too.

And if this computer didn’t have the system in place to automatically shut off after a designated time, I’d still be there.  Just like that.

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The Family Meal Table

teacuppamela.pngOne of our greatest treasures and lasting blessings is our meal table.  It’s a real challenge to maintain mealtimes when the family begins to grow and scatter in different directions each day.  But we endeavor to have at least one meal, if not all of them, together each day.  It’s difficult to persevere with this one sometimes — especially when it’s easier to just “grab ‘n go” when schedules are hectic or when schedules are so different for older family members.    Still, I desire to hold fast to this treasure — this family tradition — this mainstay:  the family meal table.

One of my favourite encouragers is Nancy Campbell.  Her seeming tireless work on behalf of mothers and families is such a blessing to me.  I love to listen to her, to learn from her, to be inspired, encouraged and uplifted as she shares valuable truths and lessons on motherhood.  I so wish I had had her manuals when I began motherhood thirty years ago.  I so needed encouragement as I was sort of “pioneering” my way through early motherhood.

Here’s a glimpse of Nancy Campbell.  Through the years, I’ve included articles and links to articles on our site.  You can also read more at the Above Rubies site.

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Sweetest Day

teacuppamela.pngIt is the third Saturday of October — Sweetest Day. For many people, for many reasons, today is [the] Sweetest Day.

I’m thinking that, after reading an article about an abortionist who was gripped with the reality of what abortion really is, maybe some will make a decision, on this Sweetest Day, to decide/admit/repent once and for all that abortion is murder of a precious little baby — and to, from henceforth, recognize and proclaim the truth of abortion and admit the heinous atrocity of destroying human life and the lucrative abortion industry and its insidious, pernicious lies.

My husband and I spent the day at Seattle Children’s Hospital with our dear friends.  What an incredible place Children’s is: from staff –  information, innovative care, to surgeries, research and practices for thousands of conditions / special needs.  At different locations throughout the hospital we’d see images of children and credits to foundations, donors and supporters of the massive hospital.

Each time we visit that hospital I’m thankful for the care we’ve received there but am more moved by the thousands of images of precious children and families previously helped by the specialized and technologically advanced care they received there.   I’m moved by the intense work to preserve health and life to children — the intense drive to discover and cure ills — to find solutions to debilitating birth defects, disease and disabilities.

In the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) waiting room we had sort of a surreal time — as we received updates through the day we had many hours to pray, to praise, and to talk over what the Lord has done — His mercy and goodness. God is only faithful… and great is His faithfulness.

Through the day we were recounting some of the many times we sat with one of the families in that same place as their little son had numerous and very serious medical conditions over many years.  And so…  now we’ll add this event’s waiting room visits to our cache of shared memories with all these friends — these brothers & sisters in the Lord.   I’d like to ask you to pray for our friends and their dear boy… you can follow their blog here.

So, why did I write about abortion in this particular post?  The aberrant reasoning of those who defend the killing of children… the dichotomy of abortion and life… the careless disregard and disposal of precious, intricate, fearfully and wonderfully created by God… human life.

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Thank you… Mother

 

Happy Mother’s Day

Thank you, Mama, for the gift of my life,
for the years of sacrifice
and love you have given on my behalf.
Thank you for you. 

I celebrate *you* today, Mother…  I thank the Lord for the blessing you are and have been to me.  I pray He will bless you with faith, with love, with peace, with health, with hope and with joy today. Thank you for the blessing you are to me, to my husband and our children. 

with love, pamela