An Answer for the Guilt of Motherhood

March 28, 2016March 28, 2016 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 1 Comment

I think most mothers feel some level of guilt every single day. I know that I do. I have heard it said that guilt is just part of the job description. Should it be? Surely God doesn’t intend for us to carry this heavy load. Wouldn’t we be much better mothers if we were free from guilt?

But I have so many opportunities to feel remorse!

When my third grader can’t read. (I am a horrible homeschool teacher!)

When my baby wakes up and I can’t calm him. (Surely I should understand a baby’s needs by this time!)

When I yell at my eight year old and he hides in the linen closet and cries. (I am so mean.)

When my teenager yells at ME for outlawing the indiscriminate consumption of sugar. (I am so unreasonable and extreme.)

When my oldest daughter is stressed out because of the amount of house work she has to do. (I should be doing more of the work myself.)

When my special needs girl is crying because I am forcing her to do therapy (what kind of monster am I?)

When my two year old screams so the entire grocery store can hear. (I have failed at disciplining him and instilling a sweet and joyful personality.)

I have realized that all moms have times like these. So if we are all universally dealing with the guilt of our motherhood failures, THERE MUST BE AN ANSWER!!!!

Let me take you on a journey of extreme guilt and perhaps you will recognize your own journey. I have a daughter who was born after a more difficult birth requiring Pitocin. I wrote all about it in my article, “Birth Story, Part 3.” She looked perfect and beautiful to me, but the hospital staff was convinced that there was something wrong with her. She had unusual facial features and two toes on each foot were partially webbed. They continued to “find” more and more abnormalities in her internal organs that could have had serious consequences. Yet in just two days, she went home with me; a healthy, happy and totally normal baby!

Or so I thought…until I received a call when Ashlyn was 6 weeks old. The chromosome analyses revealed that she was missing a piece of her 6^th chromosome. No one had ever heard of such a thing and no one knew what this might mean.

Chris and I were convinced that our daughter would be just fine. She could grow up without physical or mental handicaps because God would show us exactly what to do. I read and researched and read and researched some more. Other children like her had been able to maintain higher than average intelligence when put on an intensive therapy program developed by the Institute for the Achievement of Human Potential. I opted to enroll Ashlyn in a similar program at the Family Hope Center.

It required taking Ashlyn to the center every six months for an evaluation and to learn the home treatment plan. Each trip would cost $5,000. We weren’t able to take her until she was three or four years old. I felt terrible about losing those valuable first years, even though I tried to institute the therapies at home that I had taught myself by reading their books. We were able to raise and save the money to go to the Family Hope Center a total of three times in the 12 years of her life. Each time the Family Hope Center infused me with great ideas and many wonderful therapies.

But there was a problem. How could I possibly accomplish 6 hours of therapy with Ashlyn each day? I found it a struggle to devote even two hours to her with all the needs of my other children, the house, and my husband. Many times Ashlyn would be very uncooperative or sick, and we got nothing accomplished at all. I watched the years pass by and her developmental delays became more and more pronounced. The gap between her actual age and her neurological age grew wider and wider.

I took some comfort in the fact that all the crawling around on the floor she was doing was organizing her brain, and that someday she would eventually walk. When that day came, her intelligence would be much higher because of the abundance of cross pattern crawling she had done.

What I didn’t know was that she was developing a progressive club foot deformity. Perhaps it was because of her chromosomes, perhaps it was because of the lack of weight bearing on her feet, perhaps it was because of the poor position of her legs and feet while crawling. Her large shoes created a crawling form never taken by a normal baby. The handicap crept up on me and all of her healthcare providers until…her muscles and bones formed abnormally.

She became unable to stand up or walk normally and may never be able to.

I felt like this, along with all of her other physical and emotional issues, were my fault. Whenever I looked at her twisted and painful feet, I would feel deep sorrow and crushing guilt. God had given her to me, and surely he had given me the tools to help her, but I had failed. Failed not just in a little thing but in something that will greatly impact the quality of her life…her entire life.

Everyone who saw Ashlyn would always comment on how well she was doing, how much progress she was making, and what an amazing job I was doing.

But I never believed them.

Chris was always saying that Ashlyn WAS doing so well because of all the time I spent with her and all the good things I have done with her. Without my intervention, he said, she would still be lying like a blob on the floor.

But I never believed him.

I continued to blame myself for her every deficiency. Therapy was a chore, and Ashlyn was very often unhappy. How happy could you be when the sight of you reminded your mother of her guilt?

OK, this is an extreme case of guilt, but I am sure all of you mothers (and fathers) out there can relate to some degree. Does my guilt sound reasonable and rational to you? Have I been a horrible mother? Does God want me to carry this burden?

Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!

And he doesn’t want you to carry it either!

So let’s clear up a few things, mothers and fathers out there. I am going to tell you some truth, and I want to open up your ears and hearts and BELIEVE ME!

When something goes wrong…it is not your fault!

When your child is not perfect…it is not your fault!

When the world around you is not perfect…it is not your fault!

When you are not perfect…well, that may be your fault, but it is ok!

God, in his infinite wisdom, knew that you would not be perfect, yet he gave you that child anyway. He knew that you were the very best parent for that child.

You cannot save your child from their sin, their bad habits, or their circumstances.

You cannot heal your child; not their bodies or their souls or their spirits.

You cannot mold them and shape them into the person you think they should be.

ONLY GOD CAN DO THAT!

Sometimes God does those things THROUGH you in his time and his way and you may be totally unaware that he is doing it. The closer we are to God, the more our minds are filled with his wisdom, the more attuned we are to his voice, the more he can flow through us to our children.

The vague feeling of failure that most of us moms carry around is not from God! The thought that if we were better parents our children wouldn’t be so….whatever it is that they are…doesn’t come from God. It comes from the Enemy of our souls. He knows that we are the perfect parent for our child and that God is using us in amazing ways. He wants to make us ineffective in this most important calling.

It is true that sometimes we do things wrong and we need to ask forgiveness from God and our children. If we are listening to the Holy Spirit, he will show us when these times occur. He will convict us in a very specific way and give us hope that there is forgiveness and healing through him.

Here is an example:

Condemnation from the Enemy: If you were smarter, more organized, and more loving, your daughter would have walked years ago.

Conviction from the Holy Spirit: When Ashlyn was crying during her walking therapy today, you continued to push her. You should have slowed down, looked her in the eyes, and talked to her gently. You could have showed her that you saw and acknowledged her pain. You could have investigated the specific location of her pain and asked me for wisdom as to whether she was just whining out of childish self-pity, or whether she had a real injury.

Condemnation must be answered with the truth. Conviction must be answered with saying you are sorry and changing your behavior.

What is the truth? You can find it in the pages of your Bible. You can find it in the eyes of your Savior. You can find it in the voice of your Father. In his presence there is fullness of joy. Joy because in his presence he tells you how beloved you are. He shows you how in control he is, and how your little mistakes can’t derail his plan. I have found that conviction is a rather small part of what the Father does. The large part is lavishing his praises and love and encouragement on us! Being in his presence makes me a much better mother than guilt and self-criticism ever did. I wrote about how I try to get into his presence during a hectic mommy day in my article, “Grumpy Mommy Morning.”

Have you ever had this experience in worship? Your heart is bursting with love for God. Your gratitude is so deep that you can’t express it in words. You have so many things to thank God for that you are glad you have an eternity, because that is how long it will take! You wish you could do something worthy of your wonderful God; singing, dancing, painting a beautiful picture, writing a 300 page masterpiece…yet all you can do is just stand there and let the overwhelming joy wash over you. Wouldn’t it be awesome to feel that way all the time? To mother our children out of that kind of joy? Someday, maybe we will.

Have you ever thought that maybe God feels that way about you? That being with you brings him overflowing joy that will last forever. That he is so thankful for you and your life!

Blows your mind!!! That’s what happens when you start listening to God’s voice. He blows your mind with a new perspective that sends the guilt and shame packing.

Once I was sitting on my sofa, miserable with morning sickness and feeling like an awful mom. God broke into my despair and said to me, “Thank you! Thank you for being available to carry this child. Without you, I couldn’t have brought this child of destiny into the world.”

THAT is the truth.

You may feel very imperfect. You may be sure that you are messing up your sweet innocent child, and that they will need inner healing as a result of your poor parenting techniques. But without you, they would never have been born. They would have never had the chance to experience life, love, laughter, and sorrow. They would never get to see the sights of this earth or heard the sounds. They would never have gotten the chance to choose right from wrong. They would never have the opportunity to try and fail and try again. They would have never had the opportunity to be messed up and then healed!

So thank you mom! Let me say a big “thank you” to you from God, your child, and the world! Thank you for giving your child life. Thank you for doing your best. Your best is a wondrous reality full of deeply textured experiences. It is not all sunshine and roses, but even the chance to experience sadness and suffering is a gift. Thank you mom for that gift.

Did you know that God uses motherhood as a picture of abundant prosperity? Is 66:10-12 compares the prosperity of Jerusalem to nursing and being satisfied at a mother’s breast and drinking deeply in her overflowing abundance. Then verses 12-13 says, “I will extend prosperity to her like a river, and the wealth of the nations like an overflowing stream; and you will nurse and be carried on her arm, and dandled on her knees. As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you.”

God compares himself to a mother! God is going to comfort us like a mother! Ahhhh, what a wonderful, peaceful image that is. Mothers – God is using you to show himself to your children. Your nursing and cuddling and soothing is revealing to your child what God is like. You may not do it 100% perfect all the time, but there you are, doing it and giving your child a frame of reference for the love of God!

This world is not perfect. You may think you are doing a very poor job of protecting your child from the toxins in our food, the poisons on TV, and the bullies at school. Let me remind you that this world is not our home. It is a hostile warzone, full of danger. It is hard to see the warzone because it is disguised by the white picket fences and flower boxes of suburbia, but it is a warzone, nonetheless. We are living here as missionaries, trying to show the love of God to those who will violently oppose us even as we love them. We were created for a place much more beautiful and holy and perfect than this. But we are here because God has a wondrous plan. To raise children in the muddy trenches of this harsh environment is difficult.

No, it is downright COUREGEOUS!

Mother, you are a mighty and strong warrior! If you and your family are splattered with grime, fight bravely on! Your Champion has already won this war, and soon his victory will be evident to all. He is able to keep your children safe.

All of these pictures were taken on a trip to the Family Hope Center we took with Ashlyn in 2010. Here is an old cemetery seeming to encroach into the sacred boundary of a park for children. Yet joy and sorrow, life and death dwell together in surreal beauty. Joy that Ashlyn is alive and healthy. Sorrow because of the realization that all my best efforts cannot heal her.

And in the midst of this war zone, God gives us a little piece of heaven, our own paradise… if we can learn to abide in him and open our eyes to the beauty in the brokenness.

A few months ago I was talking with a woman whose sister was a teacher for 35 years. She taught at an institution for severely handicapped and damaged children. She told me that most of the children had been abandoned by their parents. She would prepare classes for the children, because they were eligible for free education until the age of 21. She would stand at the front of the class room and teach letters, numbers, days of the week, etc. to a room full of wheelchair bound children who couldn’t talk. Some would never interact or show any evidence of learning anything at all. She would try to organize fun activities and field trips for them since they rarely had visitors. She would put on a parent’s nights to highlight what their children had been learning and usually, no parent came.

I marveled at the love and special grace this woman had to continually pour into these children and young adults with very little encouraging results. It took me months of pondering this before I realized…this could have been Ashlyn. If she had never had me as her mother or Chris as her father, if she had been taken care of by a collection of paid state workers, what would she be like right now? Was Chris right in saying what he had said many times before?

“Without all that you have done for her, Anne, she would still be laying like a blob on the floor.”

Ashlyn is a unique treasure that God has given me. And I am a gift to her; a loving mother who shows her how much God loves her.

A new perspective sure does a lot. In fact, that is the answer to the guilt of motherhood. Get your eyes off of yourself and onto Jesus.

Why don’t you put on some worship music like David Leach Worship or Bethel Music and seek God for his perspective on your mothering career. Let that guilt just walk out the door!

Special note to mothers who may have legitimate guilt over huge mistake that you have made in the past. You may have killed your child, mistreated him badly, or abandoned him. These are serious offenses, but not unforgivable. Most of the major players in the Bible had grievous sins and were very bad parents! Yet God forgave them and loved them and used them to bring untold numbers of people to himself. Guilt is God’s mercy to bring you to him. Seek God for that kind of forgiveness and transformation in your life. Once you lay your guilt down at the cross, don’t ever let the Devil convince to pick it up again. Jesus signed his name to your sin and died as the punishment for it. It is finished! You are loved and you have a future full of hope.

Tell Me a Gummy Bear Sto-whee!

February 24, 2016February 24, 2016 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / Leave a comment

Bed time is such an important time for young children. Over the years, our good-night routine has evolved and changed. I started by singing songs to Areli, Cole, and Cadin as they lay in their beds in their darkened room. I think I enjoyed the peaceful melodies even more than they did.

Then I heard that if you read poetry to young children, they will grow up to be poets. Who was I to hinder their writing careers, so poetry reading became the norm. My favorites were always from A Child’s Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson. I must admit that none of them enjoy writing poetry now as teenagers, but perhaps someday they will hear one of those familiar rhymes and be taken back to a sweet childhood memory.

More babies came and Areli, Cole, and Cadin didn’t command as much of my attention at bed time anymore. They would read to themselves in their beds, followed by music or books on CD. Sometimes this was great! Other times, not so much. I would find out later that a particular child would be frightened by a certain story, usually something that I wouldn’t have expected. Other times, Cole would be bothered by the noise while he was trying to sleep. Areli was such a creature of habit, that she couldn’t fall asleep without the tape or CD on. She would pull the tape player over to her bed, turn the volume down, and listen to it under her pillow.

Once Areli came to me late in the evening. I had put a lullaby CD on for her at bedtime and thought she was sleeping. She was crying and shaking and said that the songs made her sad. She has no idea why, but she dislikes lullabies to this day. I discontinued the practice of leaving them alone with a CD at night and favored listening to stories all together at lunchtime. Then I could talk about the story with the children and understand how each one felt about each book. We had some wonderful times listening to all the Chronicles of Narnia, Little Women, and even Jane Eyre.

Areli, Cole, and Cadin grew big enough that they didn’t need someone to tuck them in at night. It was now Ashlyn, Chai, Cooper, and Calvin’s turn. I found Uncle Arthur’s Bedtime stories published in 1951. This book was full of short stories; each one was true and contained an important life lesson or moral. I loved these stories!

Other times I would ask them to share what they enjoyed most about their day. Then we would take turns praying.

I am a natural storyteller, so it is funny that it took me 17 years into my mothering career before I started telling bedtime stories. In fact, storytelling is in my blood. My Papa used to delight my brother and I with his bedtime stories about a tiny but feisty girl named Squeegee. She was so little that she could crawl through a Cheerio. She had a pet mosquito name Quito who she rode like a horse. I always begged Papa for Indian stories. His voice would transport us to a remote Indian village where I was transformed into an Indian princess and my brother, Jason was a young brave. Of course, Squeegee was always there too.

I loved those stories, and we still have some of them preserved on cassette tapes. It is strange that I never thought of telling bedtime stories of my own…until now.

It was Courage Justice who started it.

He wanted a bedtime story, so I began a yarn about the first thing that popped into my head…gummy bears. More and more details spilled out of my mouth until I had a whole cast of characters (four special gummy bears and their friends, Cooper, Calvin, and Courage). The adventures would be something little boys would enjoy, and I received plenty of suggestions and help from the three young boys themselves.

They would take trips to Venice in a rocket ship. They would visit their grandparents in Colorado where they splashed in Uncle Wilber (those of you from Colorado Springs will understand), climb mountains, and parachute from planes. The gummy bears found tiny sombreros and toured the southwest with a Mariachi band. This led to an appearance on Good Morning America and a trip to Walt Disney World where the gummy bears and the boys dressed up as dwarfs and took part in a parade.

We just finished talking about the summer they all spent in Texas on Hank’s Cattle Ranch learning to be Cowboys. The four gummy bears spent most of their time enjoying the view from Courage’s cowboy hat. Sometimes they had to take it easy UNDER Courage’s cowboy hat because they realized that too much sun made them squishy and too much rain made them melt.

The five-day cattle drive was hard, but they met a lot of new friends along the way. Who could forget the turquoise lizard that wanted to travel along in Cooper’s saddle bag or the dragonfly, Zip who became Calvin’s pet? They also enjoyed a pow-wow at an Indian village and had quite a shopping spree with all the money they earned after the cattle were auctioned off. Each boy had to buy their mom a special present, of course. I must admit, I was hoping for some Native American jewelry or maybe even my own horse. Courage was quite proud when he announced that he had purchased for me… a toothbrush. Oh well! I do love to brush my teeth!

Courage enjoyed these nighttime stories so much, that he began coming to me many times a day.

“Tell me a gummy bear sto-whee!” he would say.

I wasn’t always available to snuggle with him and tell a story, so the older children would begin to continue the adventure with their own stories.

It is amazing how these stories take on a life of their own and transport all who listen to a magical place. I enjoy all the adventures that I have had with Cooper, Calvin, Courage, and the gummy bears.

I do not recommend that you allow your children to eat gummy bears. They are bad for you in about 10 different ways. But they are also our friends, and we do not eat our friends, do we?

I do highly recommend them as traveling companions into the imagination of a child…and then into peaceful landscape of dreamland. If all the gummy bears are unavailable, you could try looking up a tiny woman who is known for her courageous spirit. She is in her 40s now, but still young at heart and up for a good bedtime adventure!

A Photo Shoot with All Boys

February 3, 2016December 8, 2017 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / Leave a comment

I had gotten a lovely picture of my girls for our Christmas card. Each girl had a sweet, picture-perfect smile. All I needed was an equally good picture of my six boys. I could imagine the stunning photo in my mind. Six fine boys, all with distinct features yet all with the similar Brandenburg look – a winning smile and handsome eyes. They would look like an ad for some designer label.

I put my daughter, Areli, on the job with high expectations. Then reality hit! Here is the adventure that she had, trying to get that perfect shot.

“Ok, let’s get all the boys into bright, simple shirts and line them up together on the porch.”

“Boys, you have to get closer together. Smoosh! Good, now smile!”

“Boys, nice smiles!!!”

“Look at the camera BOYS!!”

“I see that your collective attention span has reached its limit. Let’s take a walk in the woods and look for a scenic spot to take a picture.”

“Alright, this place is nice. Now all get together and smile. Look handsome! “

(You think you have the perfect shot and then, in the blink of an eye – a squirrel up in a tree becomes quite fascinating!)

“Look at the camera boys!”

Well, this is getting better! This is a good one…wait…where is the little cutie? The star of any photo shoot is always the littlest one with the cubby cheeks, but WHERE IS HE?

Courage was mad that he couldn’t have a “nola” bar, and decided that he was done with pictures.

“Courage, Come Back Here!!!”

There it is, little Courage making his way in the lonely wilderness.

We might as well take a break for a little fun.

That photo shoot turned out to be less than what I was envisioning and the boys gave Areli such a hard time! I was not yet defeated, so I got the boys dressed up again in special, matching outfits. We all tromped outside to try again.

“Ok, boys. Lay down in the grass and put your heads together in the middle.”

Pandemonium ensued. Apparently boys consider it very uncool to lay down in the grass, especially with EACH OTHER.

Areli and I tried to get some pictures amidst the arguing, complaining, rough housing, and shrieking…but alas. Every single picture showed Courage’s once handsome face contoured into a grimace. He cried the entire photo shoot.

That was the end! The boys were free from their torture and I was mad! Where was my perfect picture of my dashing young men for my epic Christmas card?

This is a lot like life. We have expectations of perfection. We make excellent plans. Give straightforward instructions. Yet everything happens except perfection. Disappointment is guaranteed. What is a mom to do?

I looked through the photos to see what I could salvage. I actually found a few good ones mixed in.

There are my handsome boys! The moment was so fleeting, I almost missed it.

This photo was my favorite. They don’t all have perfect smiles but I can appreciate each boy in his uniqueness and I LOVE them each so much!

Life never gives us what we expect and it is never our version of perfect. But if you pay attention and look closely enough, you can find the gems hidden in the dirt.

Or in this case, the little boy smiling in the tree. (Smiling because the photo shoot was over and he was free to climb!)

Sweet and patient Areli has become quite the photographer! She has just launched her own website and offers photo shoots and prints for sale. Please check it out!

Areli Endura Photography

A Kitchen Remodel and the Unreasonable Goodness of God

January 20, 2016January 20, 2016 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 4 Comments

Sometimes we are expecting to see the favor of God. We have prayed very specific prayers and fully expect them to be answered in marvelous ways. The answers don’t come right away, so we strain our eyes to the horizon, looking for his goodness. Yet the rain of his blessing doesn’t come. Instead, a nasty storm blows in. We are knocked down by one thunderclap after another.

We believed for goodness, yet found ourselves soaked to the bone and laying in a muddy heap on the ground. After all of this, we conclude that our expectations were just too high. We should be content with the mud puddle and avoid all this needless disappointment. This is when his unexpected goodness takes us by surprise, like a lovely flower blooming in the mire!

Chris and I had to close our business, Signarama. We lost a lot of money and our good name; but what was worse, we had lost our dreams. We had lost our confidence in God’s voice and his goodness. Our bills had increased, yet our income had significantly decreased. Here we were in the place we had strived so hard to avoid: utterly absorbed each day in the excruciating work of survival.

To top it all off, our dishwasher started leaking; a slow, steady leak under the floor. Pretty soon we had water seeping out from all the floor tiles. The tiles were old, ugly PVC stick tiles and now they were wet, coming up, and probably growing mold. It took a week to get the dishwasher fixed.

“Oh well,” I thought. “It doesn’t make much difference. Our kitchen is so awful anyway.

The cabinets keep falling apart and are so dirty; we just can’t get them clean.

The sink is stained and scratched. The floor is just gross.

We trip over ourselves in this tiny space.

But there is nothing we can do about it.”

Enter the Unreasonable Goodness of God!

Chris decided to make an insurance claim, and they gave us a good chunk of money!! We gave the money to a friend who is a contractor, and he got us an amazing deal on new cabinets, a new countertop, and a new sink! Chris organized his hardworking boys and his skilled and generous friends. They ripped out the old cabinets and the old floor. After tearing out the PVC tiles, vinyl linoleum, a very old layer of real linoleum, plus a layer of paper and glue…beautiful original hardwood was revealed. I had always dreamed about having this type of hardwood in my kitchen; thick, dark wood that reminded me of an old farmhouse. Chris worked hard to make my dream a reality. He and the boys pulled out several hundred screws and nails. He sanded 6 times to get rid of all the old glue and water stains. He tried a couple times before he found the stain color that reflected what I had imagined.

Chris rearranged the entire kitchen and created a pass-through so that the kitchen became more spacious and open.

I could finally cook in the kitchen while being able to see and hear what was happening in the dining room, sitting room, and living room. This completely unreasonable goodness of God came at a time when we didn’t know how we were going to pay our bills! Why didn’t God cause our business to flourish, or give Chris a new job that paid all our bills, or miraculously pay off all our debts? Why a new kitchen? God’s goodness is unpredictable and unreasonable! We just have to enjoy it.

God’s great goodness always comes to us in the midst of a mess. The perfect God works out his perfect plan with flawed people in a messed up world with imperfect conditions all around. How and why does he do this? It is a mystery, but I think it has something to do with the building and purifying of our faith. Faith can see that imperfections are just part of this life and recognize the goodness of God anyway.

It is easy to lose sight of the goodness. This kitchen remodel was no exception. I almost lost my faith in the midst of the junk. It is easy to look at the end product and see the goodness of God, but in the process, it is so challenging! Here is a list of everything that went wrong.

It took months to even be able to start the remodeling because the countertop I had chosen took so long to arrive.
As the demolition started, I found myself in panic mode. The dust found its way into every crack and crevice of the first floor. The mess was almost too much for me to handle. (The boys loved it and thought it was the best!) I was losing faith that my house would ever be clean and functional again!

3. We had to block off the kitchen, so we set up a temporary kitchen in the basement.

The only way to get to the basement was to walk out the front door, go around the outside of the house and enter again at the back door. Once the food was prepared, we had to walk it outside around the house again. Once the meal was finished, we had to carry all the dirty dishes outside and around the house again…you get the idea. All this work was to allow Chris to demo and then finish those hardwood floors. Sometimes when I was cooking on the electric skillet in the dark basement, I would notice a little face looking down at me from the top of the basement stairs. I realized that a little person had gotten through the barricade, and I felt like it was all for nothing and those floors were forever ruined!

4. We were getting close to the end. Chris had stayed up until 1am to put polyurethane on the newly sanded wood floors. I got up at 5am with my nursing baby. As I sat in the living room, I heard an unusual sound. I finally identified the sound of water dripping. But from where? I found water falling from the ceiling onto the loveseat. I went upstairs to discover that a radiator was leaking. A few hours later I entered the basement to make breakfast and found three streams of water all running into the drain in the center of the floor. Pipes were leaking everywhere! This turned out to be an unrelated problem with our heating system that was resolved within a few days. Yet, we were wondering what new damages and expenses were being incurred!

5. The new countertop had been made incorrectly so the cabinets had to all be changed and moved around. The result was an awkward corner cabinet, a drawer that could only open while scraping against the dishwasher, and a dishwasher door that could just barely squeak past the refrigerator.

6. A friend got our new-to-us gas stove hooked up on Thanksgiving morning so I didn’t have to cook the festive meal in a crockpot. Glorious! However, I kept smelling gas for the next two weeks until that same gracious friend went through the process of hooking it all up again just so I wouldn’t freak out. No more gas smell!

7. The ceiling in our dining room is so sloped that the brand new pass-through that was beautiful and perfectly level, looked completely crooked!

8. After we finally moved our refrigerator back in, it started dripping water all over the lovely, new floors. A month later, the pipes under new sink started leaking on the new cabinets and floors, threatening to begin this process all over again. What was it with all the water leaks!!!???

Chris and I thought we had ruined our new floors about 5 times in the process, because we had never refinished wood floors before and didn’t know what we were doing. It was so discouraging to get my dream floors only to sand them unevenly, sand too much, sand to little, put on the wrong stain, do the patching wrong, and so on. Finally we just decided that this was a RUSTIC kitchen, and that all the imperfections just added charm.

Our lives are not as messed up as we think.

They are just works in progress, rustic and full of character, and always being invaded by God’s great goodness.

Explosion!

January 16, 2016January 16, 2016 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 3 Comments

We love because he first loved us. 1 John:19

This is the beginning of a new year, a new and fresh start for all of us. I thought I would share the story of how I became new. It started around this time of year, 26 years ago.

I was in Junior High and had been attending a new church with my “boyfriend”. I had no interest in God, yet I really liked this guy. I felt very shy and totally out of my comfort zone. I was trying to sing the loud and crazy worship songs that I had never heard before. I didn’t understand anything that was happening in this contemporary, charismatic youth group.

A guest speaker was there one night, and I can’t even remember what he talked about. He invited us to come up to receive prayer. I didn’t consider getting prayer, yet I found myself up front. I had no memory of standing up, no memory of moving my legs to walk towards him. Yet somehow I was there, waiting for prayer. When the speaker prayed for the guy beside me, he started crying like something was touching his very soul.

“I wonder if this preacher will know that I don’t believe in this stuff,” I thought to myself as he approached me.

“You are having doubts about all this stuff.” He said, as though he was reading my mind. Suddenly the youth pastor was right next to me and asked, “Do you want to receive Jesus into your heart?”

I had never thought about asking Jesus into my heart. I didn’t even know what that meant. Before my mind could tell me “yes” or “no”, I heard myself saying, “Yes!”

I repeated the prayer that the pastor prayed for me. It went something like this;

“I believe in you Jesus, that you are the son of God. That you died and rose again to take away my sins. I ask you to forgive my sins and come into my heart.”

Immediately I felt something explode in my heart, and my eyes were opened to a wondrous and completely new reality.

I never expected this to happen! I didn’t even know what being “saved” or “born again” was, yet here I was experiencing it.

I spent the next week in a glorious daze! Everything was lovely and fresh. I never realized how beautiful a tree was! How amazing a doorknob could be! Or how much I loved my parents! The world was different because now I knew that God loved me. Since then I have learned that long before I ever thought about God, he was pursuing me. Even when I wasn’t seeking him, he was seeking me. I am so glad he found me.

I have also learned that new life isn’t something that just happened to me once, 26 years ago. It is something that happens with each new day because his mercies are new every morning. Jesus promised that we would have streams of living water coming from our inner most beings. The adventure of this life is accepting and allowing and enjoying that pure, fresh spring every single day!

Happy New Year!!! I hope you have fireworks of his love exploding in your heart.

May you enjoy a Happy New Year… every day of the year 2016!

It’s a Christmas Miracle!

December 24, 2015 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / Leave a comment

You may not think that lip balm is the stuff of miracle, but you would be wrong. I was getting ready to make my weekly trek to the farm where I buy raw milk and free range eggs, Beulah Land Jerseys. I had used the last of my lip balm that morning and couldn’t scrape any more out of the container. It is a special kind that protects me from the painful cracking that I had been prone to. I don’t like any of the products that are sold at our grocery store, but I hadn’t been able to make a special order online.

“How am I going to get some lip balm today?” I wondered to myself as I walked out the door, already feeling like my lips were getting dry!

I got to the farm and there was a display set up that was never there before. Raw honey and homemade lip balm! I was ready to write a check for the milk, eggs, and lip balm when I realized that all my checks had run out and I had forgotten to get new ones. Yet I found enough cash and coins to pay my bill exactly…and I almost NEVER carry cash.

A Christmas MIRACLE I tell you!!!

It is my tradition to shop at Community Aid before Christmas. I go on their half off day. This year I found this simple yet beautiful angel, other lovely decorations, a box of books for the children, four bags of stocking suffers, clothes for my baby girl, a purse and hat for me, plus a few other gifts.

ALL FOR LESS THAN $60! Another Christmas miracle!

Trying to make Christmas special for nine children is a challenge, especially when money is tight. The grandparents who live in Colorado decided to send us money to buy presents, rather than sending them all through the mail. Chris and I received the great joy of shopping for brand new toys and gifts for our children. I joked with Chris that we should save a little money to buy tickets to the new Star Wars movie, a Christmas gift to each other. We had so much fun shopping for the children that there was no money left.

A day later Chai came to me after school, very excited about something. It turns out that a local church wanted to bless some families in the area. Someone at Chai’s school had nominated our family.

“We got five $20 gift cards to Wal-Mart, Mom!” Chai told me.

I was considering what we needed the most and then I had an epiphany. Wal-Mart sells gift card to other places! So Chris and I went to Wal-Mart and bought a few little things for the house and…

A DATE NIGHT that is completely paid for. I am so excited to go eat a dinner that I don’t have to prepare or clean up, a leisurely dinner with no interruptions. I am beyond excited to see a movie in the theater, which happens less than once a year. The joyful anticipation of going out with my husband is such a gift.

A lovely Christmas miracle!

These are seemingly small things, but they remind me of how much God loves me. He cares about the little things and plans the working of the universe in advance to put these lovely circumstances into place.

Of course the real Christmas miracle is something that none of us can completely understand. That the Son of God, who had all power and all authority, limited himself to become one of the most vulnerable and powerless creatures on earth – a newborn human. He allowed himself to become totally dependent on his mother for the development and nourishment of every cell in his body. He placed his most precious life into the hands of his adopted father. He trusted him to protect and listen and guide. He put himself at the mercy of imperfect parents to provide all the love his ancient yet somehow brand-new heart craved.

I find my heart crying out, “Jesus, I am in awe of you! You are the miracle that I will never tire of, never get over, and never reach the end of!”

Merry Christmas to you all, and may you all feel the wonder of this miraculous season!

The Gifts of Christmas are made of the Little Things

December 22, 2015December 22, 2015 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / Leave a comment

1. My mom brought some crafts over for the children. The colors of the tissue paper were just so pretty, I had to sit down and make a star myself. I love to create all kinds of arts and crafts, but I have so little time for that these days. I gained the joy of being crafty and a brilliant sun-catcher at the same time.

2. Chris had gotten me some socks at Costco which turned out to be the most wonderful socks I have ever owned! Chris bought me more colors of the same kind, just because he loves me. An added bonus is that they actually match my clothes. I love to match!

3. Our church receives donations of food quite often. Sometimes we check to see what is available. We found bottles and bottle of kombucha. I just love kombucha, but I rarely buy it at the store because it is so expensive. Maybe no one else took it because they don’t know how wonderful it is or what it is. Are you in that boat? Click here to learn more about it.

4. I took some greens from our tree, winter berries from my mom’s yard, and this burlap star she found, and I got a rustic wreath.

5. I love receiving Christmas cards in the mail. I love to see the pictures and think about the person who sent it.

6. My mom found these magnetic picture frames. Now I can see my friends and remember to pray for them all year long without the mess of little magnets that keep falling off the fridge and the smudges of little hands.

7. Because I picked Ireland to learn about this Christmas, I have a whole new country full of recipes to discover!

8. Little boys who are eager to go Christmas shopping for their family make very diligent workers around the house. Our house gets so clean around Christmas time with the incentive of earning dollars. I love a clean house and I love to see my children considering how to purchase gifts that will bless others.

9. I asked my daughter to find some Christmas music to play and she found Michael Buble’s entire Christmas album on YouTube. I received the gift of wonderful music filling the kitchen thanks to my daughter, my phone, a purple cable, and our stereo.

10. My mom discovered my little, wooden rocking chair and brought it over. I received the joy of seeing my two youngest sitting in the chair that I used to sit in when I was their age.

11. So many of these gifts originated from my mom. (Thank you, Mom!)She is a wonderful gift and being at the women’s breakfast at church with her this Christmas was icing on the cake.

12. Caroling with friends and their children around the neighborhood and signing about the joy of Jesus!

13. My children keep reminding me that Christmas is not about the presents but THE PRESENCE. How thankful I am for the wonderful children’s ministry at our church and the fact that my children listen, remember, and take it to heart. How thankful I am for God with us, Emmanuel! I love his presence and in his presence is fullness of joy! I am realizing that at any moment I can enter into his presence and feel that joy and begin to see all the gifts that are always around me.

I Found the Words of God on a Coffee Sleeve

December 18, 2015December 18, 2015 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 2 Comments

I had just written the rough draft of my last article about the passing of my neighbor, Sandy. I had a heavy heart, feeling that I had failed God and failed Sandy. Writing the article had evoked deep emotions in me, and I was still trying to sort them all out. It was a dark Wednesday night, and I was attending a meeting for those helping with the annual Women’s Breakfast at my church.

The women’s ministry at Life Center is always planning lovely events. The goal is that every woman who attends would experience a special touch from God and hear his voice personally. Each time there is a creative way to give a personalized, encouraging word to every woman. There have been ribbons, medals, bracelets, necklaces, compasses, mugs, purses, and book marks given out. The item contains some sort of message (such as a scripture verse, a single word, or phrase) and has been prayed over. Every one of the gifts that I have received over the years has been special to me. The scripture that I received at the Women’s Conference last March sustained my faith through the events of the past year.

At the meeting, each of us got to pick a coffee sleeve with something special written on it. I randomly picked a sleeve that had “Matthew 10:42” nicely hand written in black pen. I looked up the scripture on my phone and it read:

“And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward.”

I thought, “Oh that is nice. I certainly give out lots of cups of water to my children.”

But then a new thought broke into my own, with a brilliance that I have come to recognize as the Holy Spirit.

It was a thought of Sandy and the times I brought her soup. God was telling me that I would have a reward for the small acts of kindness I had done for her! I felt so humbled and in awe of a God that would reward me even though I had fallen short of my goal of introducing Sandy to Jesus.

What a good and generous God I have!!!!

The next day I got into my van to drive to the grocery store. I turned on the New Testament CD that was already in the CD player. And guess where the CD started that day?

Matthew 10:42

That Saturday was the day of the Women’s Breakfast. I arrived early to welcome women to the table I was hosting. I was praying that everyone would feel loved and blessed. I encouraged each woman to pick a coffee sleeve when they went to get their coffee or hot cocoa. I had the opportunity to pick a second one for myself. When I read the words, again I wanted to cry! My heart was so full of the goodness of God.

“Writing a New Chapter”

I love to write and have been working on this blog for a year and a half now. I would love to write a book someday…lots of books in fact! But I tell myself that it doesn’t matter if anyone else notices or even likes my writing. I am doing it for myself and my children, so we never forget the marvelous things God has done for us. Sometimes I feel rather silly, spending so much time writing down the little details of my life. Yet I feel the words are like fire in my bones that won’t let me go until I write them down.

Here God was telling me that the writing was from him! And that I would be writing about a new chapter. Our lives could sure use a new beginning!

This “word from God” was confirmed a few weeks later in a most unusual way. Each year I choose a foreign country to study at Christmas time. When all of my children were homeschooled, we would take a break from the normal school and learn about this country. Then we would incorporate the Christmas traditions and food of this country into our own holiday celebration. We have studied Sweden, Germany, Russia, Spain, and Italy. Each year, one of the resources we used was the World Book series on Christmas around the World. The books always contained interesting facts but were very dry reading.

This year, even though I am only homeschooling my special needs daughter, I chose Ireland. I just love to learn about other countries so much, I couldn’t give up the tradition. As I read the first few pages of the World Book called Christmas on the Emerald Isle, I was struck by the emotion and passion in the writing.

“On Christmas night, there is another custom – the telling of stories. The oldest member of the family gathers everyone around the hearth or table and recounts the story of Mary and Joseph. The tales, of course, don’t stop at Bethlehem. There are yarns about the family, about the famine, about the great heroes and villains of Irish history…While the Swedes have 25 versions of the Cinderella story, the Irish have 311 and are still counting. Christmas night is not, or course, the only appropriate time for storytelling. Any occasion will do, and the Irish have a story for any and every occasion, for every event of life…By extracting the meaning from every event of life and turning that understanding into a parable, the Irish preserved their culture and taught their children a sense of history, justice, and identity.”

My heart burned within me as I read these words. That is what I wanted to do! I felt that God was saying that my passion to write was there for a reason…because he had put it there.

It went on to say, “If life was short and bitter, the memory of that life was not. Filled with victory and joy, the memory became a living thread that passed through the consciousness of generations of Irish men and women. As long as the stories survived, the lives and events that inspired them survived and had meaning.”

I must have a bit of the Irish in me… and in the midst of trouble and sorrow, the goodness of God keeps overwhelming me…and giving me stories that I just have to tell!

She was Bald, Toothless, Covered with Scabs…and She was Indescribably Beautiful.

December 8, 2015December 8, 2015 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 5 Comments

I had developed quite an affection for my neighbor across the street, Sandy. I had met her eight years ago when we moved into our house. She was small and looked older than her years. We invited her to neighborhood get-togethers, but she never came. In her own words, she was “backwards, shy, and didn’t go out of her house much.”

Pretty soon her habit of being a hermit became a necessity. Her heart started to fail because of years of smoking. She had to get a pacemaker and could hardly walk across the street without becoming winded. On those rare occasions that we saw each other outside, I was struck by the beauty and sweetness of her heart, buried beneath a wrinkled and toothless exterior.

I was amazed by how she was able to quit smoking cold turkey after 30 years of the habit. I was touched when she called me on the phone because she had seen a rainbow outside that she thought my children would love to see.

Once I visited her in her cute little home that had been in her family for 100 years. She showed me every Christmas card we had ever sent out, and I got the impression that she treasured them and considered us more than acquaintances. We were good friends. She could observe our comings and goings through her front window. She noticed when the boys were playing outside and how much they were growing. I realized that I should make the effort to visit her more often.

I really did try to reach out to her, but my visits were few and far between. Every time I looked out my front window, I would imagine her alone in her home except for her faithful dog. I would pray for her. Pray for her to not be lonely but to feel God’s presence. Pray for her to feel his love for her. As I prayed, day after day, my love for her grew. She became my mission field. I could not go out and do things with the freedom that I wanted to, having to be with my children and nurse the baby frequently, but I could pray for Sandy.

One night I felt the urgency to call her. I had almost never called her. In fact, I don’t call other people very often because I am afraid of bothering them and being a pest. Maybe that is how Sandy feels, I thought. Despite the fact that I had offered to help her time and again, she had never called me for help. Perhaps she was afraid.

It was late at night, but I knew her health was failing. What if I missed an opportunity? What if she was at home but in trouble? The urge was so strong, that I just had to call.

She answered and was just fine. But I got the chance to tell her that I had been praying for her and that God loved her so much.

A few months later, in the sticky heat of summer, I finally got over to visit her. Her home was messy and so dustly, it was hard for me to breath. I felt a bit sick as I sat there and chatted cheerfully. How must she feel, with her bad heart and a chronic respiratory infection? She had no energy to clean! Plus she was connected to a bulky oxygen tank by a long tube in her nose. I asked if there was anything I could do to help. At first she said no. Finally she told me that she had groceries in her truck that she had been unable to carry in from the morning.

I was appalled! It had been 90 degrees that day. Surely her groceries were ruined. But I kept a smile on my face and said, “Sure, the boys and I would love to carry them in.”

We got all the groceries in. Thankfully the perishable items had been put into the fridge earlier. I dumped the huge bag of dog food into the dog food dispenser and tried to help with anything else I could. All the while Sandy was muttering, “I hate to ask people for help.”

I pleaded with her to call me the next time she went shopping. I did not receive a call, but sometime later, Sandy’s best friend knocked on my door. She looked terribly agitated and asked if she could sit. I offered her a chair, but she never sat. She stood and paced and rubbed her hands on her legs as she explained the reason for her visit.

“Did you hear the sirens last night? Well, Sandy was back in her room using the large oxygen tank. I don’t know why she did this, but she lit a lighter and the oxygen caught on fire. She was burned all over her face, and her bed was burned. She was able to call 911, but she was unresponsive when they came. She is in the burn unit, and I don’t know what is going to happen.”

Her friend was so distressed, and now I was too! Sandy’s health was so bad, could she possible live through this? Had I lost my opportunity to tell her about Jesus?

I really prayed for Sandy over the next few days. Had I shown her God’s love the way he had asked me too? God gave me this verse.

Ezekiel 33:7-9 “I have appointed you as a watchman for the people of Israel; therefore listen to what I say and warn them for me. When I say to the wicked, ‘O wicked man, you will die!’ and you don’t tell him what I say, so that he does not repent –that wicked person will die in his sins, but I will hold you responsible for his death. But if you warn him to repent and he doesn’t, he will die in his sin, and you will not be responsible.”

I had always hesitated to lay out the gospel message when I thought that others couldn’t or wouldn’t receive it. But here God was telling me that the outcome was not my responsibility. I was simply responsible to do what he was asking me to do.

Amazingly, Sandy was back home within a few weeks. I resolved to obey Jesus the best that I could. I felt that he loved Sandy and just wanted me to introduce her to him. I didn’t know if she knew him, if she believed in him at all.

I visited and called a few times a week, bringing her food and handmade cards and encouragement. I wanted to make sure that I was there to help even if she couldn’t ask me for it. I had some lovely times sitting in her cozy home (which was now bright and clean thanks to her very energetic best friend). Sandy’s face was black with scabs. Her head had been shaved. Her body couldn’t get rid of all the fluids that they had pumped into her at the hospital, and she had blown up like a very uncomfortable balloon. Her heart had gone from working at 25% to only 10%. I wished that there was something I could do for her! I asked her if I could pray for her and she let me. Maybe Jesus would heal her to show her how much he loved her. I tried to have faith that we could see a miracle!

“Jesus loves you so much, Sandy!” I told her. “Do you know how much he loves you?” I asked. Here was my chance to introduce my friend Jesus to my friend Sandy. I could tell her about how I met Jesus and ask if she had ever met him in that way.

“I don’t know if he loves me. Things keep going wrong for me. I am so sick. I just want to be able to get out of the house and drive to the store or something.”

I felt the weight of her suffering. I felt the power of her pain. I had been going through a season of suffering as well, carrying many unanswered prayers and unanswered questions. I wasn’t sure how to answer her because I wasn’t sure how to appease the sorrow of my own heart. I knew that Jesus loved us, but I didn’t know how to explain how I knew.

“That’s what I am praying for. I pray you will feel better and better.” That was all that I could think of to say. Perhaps Jesus would heal her through the night and she would begin to see his goodness. I would check back with her in a few days and try again to introduce her to Jesus.

Sadly, I never got the chance. Some days later we saw an ambulance sitting in the street between our houses. There were police all around. My heart was heavy. If she was truly having an emergency, the ambulance wouldn’t be sitting there like that. The police wouldn’t talk to us about what was going on, but later that night we found out.

Sandy had simply collapsed and died. I couldn’t believe it. I had no more time to develop a friendship. No more time to pray for her. No more time to tell her my testimony and find out if she had one of her own. I did not know the condition of her soul, if she trusted in Jesus and he carried her to heaven, or if she never knew him and she was separated from him forever.

All I knew was that I had not done what Jesus had asked me to. I hadn’t introduced her to him. I was distraught. I felt like the most horrible evangelist there had ever been. My mission field had been one person and I had failed. I had failed Sandy and I had failed Jesus.

I talked to God about it. How could I go through life knowing that there was something more that I could have done to save her? How could I enjoy eternity if Sandy was not there? How I longed to see her again. How I longed to see her restored and renewed and healed. I wanted to see her in all the glory and beauty that I KNEW was in her but could never be seen in this life. I felt the value of her soul and grieved because the precious jewel that she was might be lost forever.

“Is she with you God?”

He hasn’t given me a clear answer yet. I needed to feel the weight of my mistake and repent. I needed it to push me closer to Jesus and closer to his heart.

I NEED to become a better evangelist! I NEED to practice and be uncomfortable and try and try again.

What he did remind me of was this. He knew that evangelism hasn’t been one of my gifts, normally being very shy myself. He knew that this was my first big assignment (that I was aware of). He had factored in my weaknesses and failure into his plan. He wanted me to learn from this and move on with more understanding and more confidence. He did not want me to give up in guilt and despair. He wanted me to move forward, being open to talk to anyone and everyone about him.

He reminded me of how far I had come. Many places I have lived, I never gotten to know my neighbors at all! Slowly I began to become more outgoing (with help from my husband). In this neighborhood, I have a good friendship with most everyone on my block.

Over the years I had prayed and prayed and prayed again for Sandy’s salvation, for her comfort, for her healing. The Great God, who loves Sandy infinitely more than I do, wouldn’t let those prayers go unanswered, would he?

All it would have taken from Sandy would have been one cry!

“Jesus!”

A cry in her heart or with her mouth and he would have been there, rushing in with his glorious presence, wrapping her with his love and immortality! I am sure of it.

Whether she ever cried out to him, I do not know. I do know that I miss my friend. Instead of her white car with the American flag flying from the window; there is an ugly, rusted dumpster in front of her house, gathering the discarded pieces of a life. Instead of seeing the candles in her windows, all I see is darkness. I don’t know if I will ever see her again.

What I do know is that our obedience matters. It has eternal consequences that are too heavy for me to even understand. Yet our obedience has the potential to bring more joy and glory and reward than we can even imagine! And we can only be obedient if we are listening and watching what our Father is doing.

Do you know Jesus? He is my friend and he has been the best friend I have ever known. He has never left me and he never will. He is with you right now and will be with you forever if you want him to. Can I introduce you to him?

A Grumpy Mommy Morning

November 20, 2015November 20, 2015 / Anne (Grace is my Superhero) / 2 Comments

We have all had them. Grumpy mornings when we wish we were still under the covers. Grumpy mornings when everything seems to be going wrong.

I used to have grumpy mornings on a regular basis, when I was rudely awakened way too early with the knowledge that I had a very long day of caring for little people ahead of me.

In recent years, however, I felt more confident, more capable. With the help of my older children, I was able to face each morning with a level head and even some joy. I became too confident and let my two most helpful children (Areli and Cadin) volunteer to help with Kidz Kamp at our church. They were gone early in the morning, my husband was at work, and that left me…alone…with a three month baby, a loud and demanding two year old, a special needs girl who acts like a quirky three year old, three wild and crazy boys, and a teenager asleep in his bed. This teenager who used to be an early riser and the instigator of most of my grumpy mommy mornings, now seemed to be able to sleep indefinitely.

I tried to take care of the needs of the younger children while enlisting the wild boys to help me prepare breakfast. The younger children were all uncooperative and whiney, and the wild boys were…wild! They seemed to ignore all that I said to them. Instead of helping, they were tearing around the house creating messes and conflicts.

Before I knew it, I was in the midst of a Grumpy Mommy morning unlike I had experienced in years! I ended up yelling and fuming, ranting and raving. I didn’t understand why my children didn’t understand…I was doing all of this for them. The diapering and nursing and dressing and cleaning and cooking! All of this effort was for them! Why couldn’t they help me just a little bit?

Later in the day I had the peace and quiet to think. Why did I have such a horrible morning? Was it really my children? Were they really so awful?

Or was it my attitude? If I was really doing everything I did to serve them, why was I so angry with them?

I realized that the work I was doing and getting stressed out about was not really for them. They didn’t really care if their faces were clean or that their clothes matched or that they had a super healthy breakfast. I was doing all of those things to make myself feel better. I was doing everything I thought a good mother should do, trying to get it all done so that I could feel accomplished and satisfied with my mothering. Then I could get on to the things that I really wanted to do.

I was angry because their childish behavior was interfering with MY plans. They were messing up MY schedule. I hadn’t thought about the emotions or thoughts of each child that morning. Maybe one child had woken up with a scary dream. Maybe another child was so excited about Kidz Kamp that he couldn’t calm down. Maybe the other child was so nervous about Kidz Kamp that he was trying to forget his worries. Perhaps another child was feeling overlooked and was just trying to get my attention. I hadn’t even considered what was going on in their hearts.

I stopped to contemplate what each one of them might want most in the morning upon waking. I concluded that their deepest heart’s desire, even if they couldn’t articulate it, would be to have a mommy who would greet them with joy. A mommy who would listen and not just give orders. A mommy who speaks kind words instead of yelling.

How could I possibly be that kind of mommy? How could I even begin to meet each child’s unexpressed needs each morning?

All I could come up with was the fact that I definitely could not. Only if I was abiding in Christ and had His love and thoughts towards my children could I be that kind of mommy.

How could abide in Christ when I got woken up before I could have a quiet time? How could my mind be full of His thoughts when I couldn’t crack my Bible to read a single scripture? How could I have His love for my children when I hadn’t even stopped to notice His love for me?

This has become the question that I MUST HAVE an answer to.

“LORD, just how do I seek you in the midst of this life that you have given me?”

I am not totally sure how to get time by myself on a daily basis. I am not sure how to meet with other Christians and get to church meetings more often for encouragement. But here is what I have come up with so far.

Whenever grumpy thoughts start to invade my mind, I make a huge effort to replace them with a thankful thought and find something to praise God for.

I write scriptures on notecards and post them on my bathroom mirror. Whenever I see them, I read them and memorize them. As I read them, I feel hope returning to my soul. I try to meditate on them throughout the day.

I recite memorized scriptures while I am nursing. I used to be able to read the Bible or other encouraging books while I nursed but now Annalise nurses too fast and is too active for that. As I speak the truth out loud, I feel my heart taking courage.

I listen for His voice in the midst of the noise. Sometimes I hear it in the voice of my six year old. Sometimes I hear it in my baby’s cries.

Instead of begging Him to help me through this crazy day, I THANK Him for the help He most certainly IS giving me and WILL give me.

I listen to worship music while I am preparing meals and sing along. I am caught up in His goodness as I chop vegetables. I smile when my children tell me that I should have been a singer, and I try to be loving when they interrupt me for some silly reason.

I listen to the Bible on CD while I am driving. It transforms the time I spend running errands into an encounter with truth and love. I have noticed things about Jesus and the Bible I have never noticed before. I have cried and repented and praised Him for His mercy while running to the grocery store.

When I get the chance, usually on a Saturday or Sunday morning, I write down what He has been speaking to me throughout the week. Then I read my journal over and over again while I eat breakfast the next week. I am reminded of the earth-shaking revelations that have so easily slipped my mind.

I fall asleep recounting all the good things God did for me throughout the day. I surrender all that I am, and all that I am not. I rest in the arms of Jesus until some little person needs me.

Being a good mom is not made up of things that I do or the schedule that I keep, but who I am. Only an active, growing relationship with Jesus will make me like Him and banish the Grumpy Mommy Mornings. So let us all seek Him, no matter what.