Author anonymous
Dear Santa,
I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor and sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find any more free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes:
I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.
If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music, a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals, and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.
I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.
If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is calling and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold.
Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always,
MOM
P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
If you give a Mom a muffin...
If you give a mom a muffin...
She'll want a strong cup of coffee to go with it; She'll make herself some.
Her three-year-old will spill the coffee; She'll wipe it up.
While wiping the floor she'll find dirty socks.
She'll remember she has to do laundry.
When she puts the laundry in the washer, she'll trip over boots and bump into the box of Goodwill items.
Bumping into the Goodwill items will remind her that she has to get these boxes out of her basement and into the car.
When she puts the boxes in the car, she'll find a bag of groceries and this will remind her she has to cook dinner.
She will get out the chicken defrosting in the fridge.
She'll look for her cookbook, "101 Things To Do With Chicken".
The cookbook will be sitting under a pile of mail.
She will see the Netflix movie she's meant to send back and the phone bill, which is due tomorrow.
The checkbook will be in her purse that is being dumped out by her one-year-old.
As she bends down to rescue her purse, she'll smell something funny.
She'll change the baby's diaper.
While she is throwing away the diaper and searching for the hand sanitizer, the phone will ring.
Her three-year-old will answer and hang up.
She'll remember she wants to call a friend - not for coffee, but for a very strong drink.
Thinking of drinking will remind her that she was going to have a cup of coffee in order to stay awake for the rest of the day.
And chances are....
If she finds her cup of coffee (which she has to reheated by now), her children will have eaten the muffin that goes with it.
She'll want a strong cup of coffee to go with it; She'll make herself some.
Her three-year-old will spill the coffee; She'll wipe it up.
While wiping the floor she'll find dirty socks.
She'll remember she has to do laundry.
When she puts the laundry in the washer, she'll trip over boots and bump into the box of Goodwill items.
Bumping into the Goodwill items will remind her that she has to get these boxes out of her basement and into the car.
When she puts the boxes in the car, she'll find a bag of groceries and this will remind her she has to cook dinner.
She will get out the chicken defrosting in the fridge.
She'll look for her cookbook, "101 Things To Do With Chicken".
The cookbook will be sitting under a pile of mail.
She will see the Netflix movie she's meant to send back and the phone bill, which is due tomorrow.
The checkbook will be in her purse that is being dumped out by her one-year-old.
As she bends down to rescue her purse, she'll smell something funny.
She'll change the baby's diaper.
While she is throwing away the diaper and searching for the hand sanitizer, the phone will ring.
Her three-year-old will answer and hang up.
She'll remember she wants to call a friend - not for coffee, but for a very strong drink.
Thinking of drinking will remind her that she was going to have a cup of coffee in order to stay awake for the rest of the day.
And chances are....
If she finds her cup of coffee (which she has to reheated by now), her children will have eaten the muffin that goes with it.
Things that change when you have a baby...
~Author Anonymous
You finally stop to smell the roses, because your baby is in your arms.
Where you once believed you were fearless, you now find yourself afraid.
The sacrifices you thought you made to have a child no longer seem like sacrifices.
You respect your body ... finally.
You respect your parents and love them in a new way.
You find that your baby's pain feels much worse than your own.
Your heart breaks much more easily.
You think of someone else 234,836,178,976 times a day.
Every day is a surprise.
Bodily functions are no longer repulsive. In fact, they please you. (Hooray for poop!)
You look at your baby in the mirror instead of yourself.
You become a morning person.
You don't mind going to bed at 9 p.m. on Friday night
You realize that the 15 pounds you can't seem to get rid of are totally worth having.
You learn that taking a shower is a luxury.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Motherhood Has Taught Me...
Motherhood Has Taught Me....
by Michelle Grant Scott
MomSense Magazine, March/April 2007
...to assess a child's well-being through a cracked door
...to tiptoe so hushed that only baby breath is audible
...to kiss an owie so lightly it removes some pain
...to interpret for a toddler who longs to speak with dignity
...to discern when a whimper means danger or simply "notice me"
...to smile at dirty dishes, while marching alongside little legs
...to embrace, not hide, "happy tears" that now come daily
...to laugh at little shoulder taps in the middle of the night
...to recognize God's wisdom in a toddler's voice
...to adapt my dancing style to lead or follow chubby bare feet
...to rely on God's strength to carry me after countless sleepless nights
...to giggle and simultaneously turn a cartwheel
...to harmonisously rock, pat and hum in the moonlight
...to perform ballet while rasting sweet drops of rain
...to appreciate the beauty of baby bellybuttons
...to look into bright blue eyes and feel the world stop
...to know beyond any doubt I am what God created me to be. . .
A MOTHER.
And this is growth.
by Michelle Grant Scott
MomSense Magazine, March/April 2007
...to assess a child's well-being through a cracked door
...to tiptoe so hushed that only baby breath is audible
...to kiss an owie so lightly it removes some pain
...to interpret for a toddler who longs to speak with dignity
...to discern when a whimper means danger or simply "notice me"
...to smile at dirty dishes, while marching alongside little legs
...to embrace, not hide, "happy tears" that now come daily
...to laugh at little shoulder taps in the middle of the night
...to recognize God's wisdom in a toddler's voice
...to adapt my dancing style to lead or follow chubby bare feet
...to rely on God's strength to carry me after countless sleepless nights
...to giggle and simultaneously turn a cartwheel
...to harmonisously rock, pat and hum in the moonlight
...to perform ballet while rasting sweet drops of rain
...to appreciate the beauty of baby bellybuttons
...to look into bright blue eyes and feel the world stop
...to know beyond any doubt I am what God created me to be. . .
A MOTHER.
And this is growth.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Just for this Day...
Just for this Day...
-Sally Meyer copyright 1999
To my child...
Just for this morning, I am going to smile when I see your face, and laugh when I feel like crying.
Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile and say how perfect it is.
Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you to the park to play.
Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that puzzle of yours together.
Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with you in the backyard and blow bubbles.
Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.
Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up, or second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.
Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't stand over you trying to fix them.
Just for this afternoon, I will take us to McDonald's and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.
Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born and how much I love you.
Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the tub and not get angry.
Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch and count all the stars.
Just for this evening, I will snuggle beside you for hours, and miss my favorite TV shows.
Just for this evening when I run my fingers through your hair as you pray, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift ever given. I will think about the mothers and fathers who are searching for their missing children; the mothers and fathers who are visiting their children's graves instead of their bedrooms; and the mothers and fathers who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer senselessly, and screaming inside that they can't handle it anymore.
And when I kiss you goodnight I will hold you a little tighter, and a little longer.
It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask Him for nothing, except one more day...
-Sally Meyer copyright 1999
To my child...
Just for this morning, I am going to smile when I see your face, and laugh when I feel like crying.
Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile and say how perfect it is.
Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you to the park to play.
Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that puzzle of yours together.
Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with you in the backyard and blow bubbles.
Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.
Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up, or second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.
Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't stand over you trying to fix them.
Just for this afternoon, I will take us to McDonald's and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.
Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born and how much I love you.
Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the tub and not get angry.
Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch and count all the stars.
Just for this evening, I will snuggle beside you for hours, and miss my favorite TV shows.
Just for this evening when I run my fingers through your hair as you pray, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift ever given. I will think about the mothers and fathers who are searching for their missing children; the mothers and fathers who are visiting their children's graves instead of their bedrooms; and the mothers and fathers who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer senselessly, and screaming inside that they can't handle it anymore.
And when I kiss you goodnight I will hold you a little tighter, and a little longer.
It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask Him for nothing, except one more day...
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Devotional
"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven." MATTHEW 5:16
The basic purpose for living is to glorify our Father in heaven. We who believe in Him are lights on a hillside, seen from a distance. We are to cast vision, give warmth, and show a better way to those living in darkness. In short, God instructs us to shine. How do we do that? Encourage instead of criticize. Love instead of hate. Hope instead of doubt. Give instead of take. Trust instead of worry.
We open our hearts to others so they will be prompted to open their hearts to God. Encouragement, love, hope, generosity, and trust are all gifts of God by the work of His Spirit. They don't spring from our humanity; they spring from His grace. God gives the light. He uses us to show the way. And He is glorified. What a high calling and wonderful purpose to be on this earth!
Luci Swindoll
Women of Faith
A Baby's Perspective on Sleep Training
OK, here's my situation. My Mommy has had me for almost 7 months. The first few months were great--I cried, she picked me up and fed me, anytime, day or night. Then something happened.
Over the last few weeks, she has been trying to STTN (sleep thru the night).
At first, I thought it was just a phase, but it is only getting worse. I've talked to other babies, and it seems like it's pretty common after Mommies have had us for around 6 months.
Here's the thing: these Mommies don't really need to sleep. It's just a habit. Many of them have had some 30 years to sleep--they just don't need it anymore. So I am implementing a plan. I call it the Crybaby Shuffle.
It goes like this:
Night 1--cry every 3 hours until you get fed. I know, it's hard. It's hard to see your Mommy upset over your crying. Just keep reminding yourself, it's for her own good.
Night 2--cry every 2 hours until you get fed.
Night 3--every hour.
Most Mommies will start to respond more quickly after about 3 nights. Some Mommies are more alert, and may resist the change longer. These Mommies may stand in your doorway for hours, shhhh-ing. Don't give in. I cannot stress this enough: CONSISTENCY IS KEY!!
If you let her STTN (sleep through the night), just once, she will expect it every night. I KNOW IT'S HARD! But she really does not need the sleep, she is just resisting the change.
If you have an especially alert Mommy, you can stop crying for about 10 minutes, just long enough for her to go back to bed and start to fall asleep. Then cry again. It WILL eventually work. My Mommy once stayed awake for 10 hours straight, so I know she can do it. Last night, I cried every hour. You just have to decide to stick to it and just go for it.
BE CONSISTENT! I cried for any reason I could come up with.
My sleep sack tickled my foot. I felt a wrinkle under the sheet. My mobile made a shadow on the wall. I burped, and it tasted like pears (I hadn't eaten pears since lunch - what's up with that?) The dog said "woof" (I should know. My Mommy reminds me of this about 20 times a day. LOL.) Once I cried just because I liked how it sounded when it echoed on the monitor in the other room. Too hot, too cold, just right--doesn' t matter! Keep crying!! It took awhile, but it worked. She fed me at 4am. Tomorrow night, my goal is 3:30am. You need to slowly shorten the interval between feedings in order to reset your Mommies' internal clocks.
P.S. Don't let those rubber things fool you, no matter how long you suck on them, NO milk will come out! Trust me.
MOMS
Somebody said it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after
you've had a baby ...
somebody doesn't know that once you're a mother, "normal" is history.
*********************
Somebody said you learn how to be a mother by instinct...
somebody never took a three-year-old shopping.
**********************
Somebody said being a mother is boring ...
somebody never rode in a car driven by a teenager with a driver's permit.
************************
Somebody said if you're a "good" mother, your child will "turn out
good"...
somebody thinks a child comes with directions and a guarantee.
***********************
Somebody said "good" mothers never raise their voices...
somebody never came out the back door just in time to see her child hit a golf ball through the neighbor's kitchen window.
****************************
Somebody said you don't need an education to be a mother....
somebody never helped a fourth grader with his math.
*****************************
Somebody said you can't love the second child as much as you love
the first ...
somebody doesn't have two children.
***************************
Somebody said a mother can find all the answers to her child-
rearing questions in the books....
somebody never had a child stuff beans up his nose or in his ears.
**************************
Somebody said the hardest part of being a mother is labor and
delivery....
somebody never watched her "baby" get on the bus for the first day of kindergarten or on a plane headed for military boot camp.
************************
Somebody said a mother can do her job with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back...
somebody never organized seven giggling Brownies to sell cookies.
**************************
Somebody said a mother can stop worrying after her child gets married....
somebody doesn't know that marriage adds a new son or daughter-in-law to a mother's heartstrings.
*************************
Somebody said a mother's job is done when her last child leaves home....
somebody never had grandchildren.
***********************
Somebody said your mother knows you love her, so you don't need to tell her....
somebody isn't a mother.
************************
For all the Mothers....
This is for the mothers who have sat up all night
with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf
laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid
saying, "It's okay honey, Mommy's here."
This is for all the mothers who have sat in rocking chairs
for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't
be comforted.
This is for all the mothers who show up at work with
spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses
and diapers in their purse.
For all the mothers who run carpools and make
cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the
mothers who DON'T.
This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies
they'll never see. And the mothers who took those
babies and gave them homes.
This is for the mothers whose priceless art
collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns on
metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead
of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that
when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they
could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for
the world," and mean it.
This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids
in the grocery store and swat them in despair when
they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream
before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to
ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.
This is for all the mothers who sat down with their
children and explained all about making babies. And
for all the (grand)mothers who wanted to, but just
couldn't find the words.
This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their
children can eat.
For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice
a night for a year. And then read it again. "Just
one more time."
This is for all the mothers who taught their
children to tie their shoelaces before they started
school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro
instead.
This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to
cook and do laundry and their daughters to sink a
jump shot and change the oil and/or tires on their
car.
This is for every mother whose head turns
automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a
crowd, even though they know their own offspring are
at home -- or even away at college.
This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to
school with stomach aches assuring them they'd be
just FINE once they got there, only to get calls
from the school nurse an hour later asking them to
please pick them up. Right away.
This is for mothers whose children have gone astray,
who can't find the words to reach them.
This is for all the step-mothers who raised another
woman's child or children, and gave their time,
attention, and love... sometimes totally
unappreciated!
For all the mothers who bite their lips until they
bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.
For all the mothers of the victims of recent school
shootings, and the mothers of those who did the
shooting.
For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers
who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging
their child who just came home from school, safely.
This is for all the mothers who taught their
children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home
safely from a war.
What makes a good Mother anyway?
Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a
button on a shirt, all at the same time?
Or is it in her heart?
Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or
daughter disappear down the street, walking to
school alone for the very first time?
The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from
bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back
of a sleeping baby?
The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M.
when you just want to hear their key in the door and
know they are safe again in your home?
Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug
your child when you hear news of a fire, a car
accident, a child dying?
The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our
thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through
diaper changes and sleep deprivation...
And mature mothers learning to let go
For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.
Single mothers and married mothers.
Mothers with money, mothers without.
This is for you all. For all of us. Hang in there.
In the end we can only do the best we can.
Tell them every day that we love them.
And pray.
with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf
laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid
saying, "It's okay honey, Mommy's here."
This is for all the mothers who have sat in rocking chairs
for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't
be comforted.
This is for all the mothers who show up at work with
spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses
and diapers in their purse.
For all the mothers who run carpools and make
cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the
mothers who DON'T.
This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies
they'll never see. And the mothers who took those
babies and gave them homes.
This is for the mothers whose priceless art
collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns on
metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead
of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that
when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they
could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for
the world," and mean it.
This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids
in the grocery store and swat them in despair when
they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream
before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to
ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.
This is for all the mothers who sat down with their
children and explained all about making babies. And
for all the (grand)mothers who wanted to, but just
couldn't find the words.
This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their
children can eat.
For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice
a night for a year. And then read it again. "Just
one more time."
This is for all the mothers who taught their
children to tie their shoelaces before they started
school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro
instead.
This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to
cook and do laundry and their daughters to sink a
jump shot and change the oil and/or tires on their
car.
This is for every mother whose head turns
automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a
crowd, even though they know their own offspring are
at home -- or even away at college.
This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to
school with stomach aches assuring them they'd be
just FINE once they got there, only to get calls
from the school nurse an hour later asking them to
please pick them up. Right away.
This is for mothers whose children have gone astray,
who can't find the words to reach them.
This is for all the step-mothers who raised another
woman's child or children, and gave their time,
attention, and love... sometimes totally
unappreciated!
For all the mothers who bite their lips until they
bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.
For all the mothers of the victims of recent school
shootings, and the mothers of those who did the
shooting.
For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers
who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging
their child who just came home from school, safely.
This is for all the mothers who taught their
children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home
safely from a war.
What makes a good Mother anyway?
Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a
button on a shirt, all at the same time?
Or is it in her heart?
Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or
daughter disappear down the street, walking to
school alone for the very first time?
The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from
bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back
of a sleeping baby?
The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M.
when you just want to hear their key in the door and
know they are safe again in your home?
Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug
your child when you hear news of a fire, a car
accident, a child dying?
The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our
thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through
diaper changes and sleep deprivation...
And mature mothers learning to let go
For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.
Single mothers and married mothers.
Mothers with money, mothers without.
This is for you all. For all of us. Hang in there.
In the end we can only do the best we can.
Tell them every day that we love them.
And pray.
1 Corinthians 13 for Moms
I can read bedtime stories till the cow jumps over the moon and sing
Ten Little Monkeys until I want to call the doctor, but if I don't have love.
I am as annoying as a ringing phone.
I can chase a naked toddler through the house while cooking dinner and
listening to the voice mail. I can fix the best cookies and Kool-Aid
in the neighborhood, and I can tell a sick child's temperature with one
touch of my finger, but if I don't have love, I am nothing.
Love is patient, while watching and praying by the front window when
it's 30 minutes past curfew.
Love is kind when my teen says, I hate you!
It does not envy the neighbor's swimming pool or new mini-van, but
trusts the Lord to provide for every need.
Love does not brag when other parents share their disappointments and
insecurities, and love rejoices when other families succeed.
It doesn't boast, even when I've multi-tasked all day long and my
husband can't do more than one thing at a time.
Love is not rude when my spouse innocently asks, what have you done today?
It does not immediately seek after glory when we see talent in our
children, but encourages them to get training and make wise choices.
It is not easily angered even when my 5-year old acts like the world
revolves around her.
It does not delight in evil (is not self-righteous) when I remind my
17-year old that he's going 83 in a 55-mph zone, but rejoices in the
truth.
Love does not give up hope. It always protects our children's
self-esteem and spirit, even while doing discipline.
It always trusts God to protect our children when we cannot.
It always perseveres, through blue nail polish, burps, and other bodily
functions, rolled eyes and crossed arms, messy rooms and sleepovers.
Love never fails. But where there are memories of thousands of
diaper changes and painful labor(s) they will fade away.
Where there is talking back, it will (eventually) cease. (Please,
Lord?)
Where there is a teenager who thinks she knows everything, there will
one day be an adult who knows you did your best.
For we know we fail our children, and we pray they don't end up in
therapy, but when we receive eternal life, our imperfect parenting will disappear.
(Thank you, God!)
When we were children, we needed a parent to love and protect us. Now
that we're parents ourselves, we have a heavenly Father who adores us,
shelters us, and holds us when we need to cry. And now these three
remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.
Ten Little Monkeys until I want to call the doctor, but if I don't have love.
I am as annoying as a ringing phone.
I can chase a naked toddler through the house while cooking dinner and
listening to the voice mail. I can fix the best cookies and Kool-Aid
in the neighborhood, and I can tell a sick child's temperature with one
touch of my finger, but if I don't have love, I am nothing.
Love is patient, while watching and praying by the front window when
it's 30 minutes past curfew.
Love is kind when my teen says, I hate you!
It does not envy the neighbor's swimming pool or new mini-van, but
trusts the Lord to provide for every need.
Love does not brag when other parents share their disappointments and
insecurities, and love rejoices when other families succeed.
It doesn't boast, even when I've multi-tasked all day long and my
husband can't do more than one thing at a time.
Love is not rude when my spouse innocently asks, what have you done today?
It does not immediately seek after glory when we see talent in our
children, but encourages them to get training and make wise choices.
It is not easily angered even when my 5-year old acts like the world
revolves around her.
It does not delight in evil (is not self-righteous) when I remind my
17-year old that he's going 83 in a 55-mph zone, but rejoices in the
truth.
Love does not give up hope. It always protects our children's
self-esteem and spirit, even while doing discipline.
It always trusts God to protect our children when we cannot.
It always perseveres, through blue nail polish, burps, and other bodily
functions, rolled eyes and crossed arms, messy rooms and sleepovers.
Love never fails. But where there are memories of thousands of
diaper changes and painful labor(s) they will fade away.
Where there is talking back, it will (eventually) cease. (Please,
Lord?)
Where there is a teenager who thinks she knows everything, there will
one day be an adult who knows you did your best.
For we know we fail our children, and we pray they don't end up in
therapy, but when we receive eternal life, our imperfect parenting will disappear.
(Thank you, God!)
When we were children, we needed a parent to love and protect us. Now
that we're parents ourselves, we have a heavenly Father who adores us,
shelters us, and holds us when we need to cry. And now these three
remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.
Women in my Circle
TO THE WONDERFUL WOMEN IN MY CIRCLE:
When I was little, I used to believe in the concept of one best friend, and then I started to become a woman. And then I found out that if you allow your heart to open up, God would show you the best in many friends.
One friend is needed when you're going through things with your man.
When I was little, I used to believe in the concept of one best friend, and then I started to become a woman. And then I found out that if you allow your heart to open up, God would show you the best in many friends.
One friend is needed when you're going through things with your man.
Another friend is needed when you're going through things with your
mom.
Another when you want to shop, share, heal, hurt, joke, or just be.
One friend will say let's pray together, another let's cry together, another let's fight together, another let's walk away together.
One friend will meet your spiritual need, another your shoe fetish, another your love for movies, another will be with you in your season of confusion, another will be your clarifier, another the wind beneath your wings.
But whatever their assignment in your life, on whatever the occasion, on whatever the day, or wherever you need them to meet you with their gym shoes on and hair pulled back, or to hold you back from making a complete fool of yourself ... those are your best friends.
It may all be wrapped up in one woman, but for many it's wrapped up in several ... one from 1st grade, one from high school, several from the college years, a couple from old jobs, several from church, on some days your mother, on others your sisters (or sister-in-laws), and on some days your daughters.
So whether you 've been there 20 minutes or 20 years, YOU are the women that God has placed in my life to make a difference.
Thanks for being in my circle
How To Raise Successful Children
Taken from Proverbs31 Daily Devotionals...
How to Raise Successful Children
By Wendy Pope
“Praise the LORD! Happy are those who fear the LORD. Yes, happy are those who delight in doing what He commands. Psalm 112:1 (NLT Chronological Bible))
Devotion:
When titling this devotion I wondered, "I would buy a book with this title?" then I quickly thought of all the well intended help books that have been written but seemed to have produced children who continue to make poor decisions. Despite the valiant effort of numerous authors, our world is still full of young people who don't reach their full potential and settle for less than what God desires for them. My children are young, nine and seven, but no matter how old your children are, you still have the ability to influence their success.
I am reading through the entire Bible for the first time in my life. I have to tell you, it is one of the most exciting things I have done in my journey with the Lord. In my daily reading I stumbled across today's key verse. I have to admit that I read it with familiarity until I got to verse 2:
"Their children will be successful everywhere; an entire generation of godly people will be blessed." (Psalm 112)
Did you catch that? Reread today's key verse above, then read verse 2. I had to read and reread these verses several times. As I pondered them I realized the truth in the message: the success or lack of success in the life of my children rests on me, in fact, generation to generation. The future of the children God has entrusted to me and the children they will bring into this world (my grandchildren) is affected by my willingness to obey the Lord's commands and to reverently fear Him. The reality of this truth makes me more eager than ever to obey the Lord, not just obey but delightfully obey Him.
I haven't read very many "raising kids books." I don't know much about the reputation and integrity of the authors who write them. I can boast with great confidence, however, in the Author of book that taught me today's truth. His reputation is impeccable and His record is unblemished. His advice on childrearing is trustworthy and when followed will produce the results promised.
I don't know about you, but I am not willing to risk the success of my children and grandchildren on my own plans and ideas for their future. My plan is to put today's key verse into practice, sit back and watch what happens.
Following the words of the Author not only blesses your children and the future generations, but also pleases your Heavenly Father and gives Him the desire to bless you for your obedience. A two-fold blessing - you can't get any better than that!
The Invisible Woman
The Invisible Woman
by Nicole Johnson, Woman of Faith author
It started to happen gradually. One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?" "Nobody," he shrugged. "Nobody?" The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street, I thought, "Oh my goodness, nobody?"
I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like "Turn the TV down, please" - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing.
Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking. That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible.
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"
Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.
I'm invisible.Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order,"Right around 5:30, please."
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut
butter, never to be seen again.She's going - she's going - she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this."
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are
building when no one sees."
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
* No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
* These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
* They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become." At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and
then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
by Nicole Johnson, Woman of Faith author
It started to happen gradually. One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?" "Nobody," he shrugged. "Nobody?" The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street, I thought, "Oh my goodness, nobody?"
I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like "Turn the TV down, please" - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing.
Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking. That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible.
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"
Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.
I'm invisible.Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order,"Right around 5:30, please."
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut
butter, never to be seen again.She's going - she's going - she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this."
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are
building when no one sees."
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
* No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
* These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
* They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become." At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and
then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
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