Flowers and Butterflies

Happy Mother's Day to all you ladies who have been blessed to become mothers!

Whew!  To get that tiny human from the protection of our bodies into our arms is a grueling experience, to say the least.  There is no pain comparable.  Yea, yea, yea, we've all heard the stories from men about the pain of passing a kidney stone and how horrible it is.  Have you seen the size of a kidney stone?  Have you seen the size of a baby?  End of argument.

That excruciating, crushing, near death pain is forgotten in an instant, though.  The second that child is placed in our arms, we go from screaming to cooing, from agony to kisses and from a death grip on our husband's throat to gently stroking the sweet form in our arms.

Ahhhh, motherhood.  It's all flowers and butterflies from here on out....right?  Well, it depends from which perspective you are looking.  When you're living in the moment, surviving on two hours sleep each night, staggering and running into walls from exhaustion, you may not see the butterflies, more likely you're seeing stars, but when your kids are grown and you sit in a quiet house reminiscing about your babies, you don't really focus on the sleepless nights, the tummy aches, and the incessant crying.  You focus on the flowers and butterflies.  You remember the soft touch as their tiny fingers wrap around yours.  You remember the fluffy, downy head and the chubby cheeks and those huge eyes that take in everything around them.

I think back to the days of three little boys and one teenage girl.  Have mercy.  How did I do that?  At the time I was just trying to get through the days with enough clean clothes for everyone, the laundry was never ending and I'm pretty sure it reproduced when I wasn't looking, but as I'm older now, I can see the flowers and butterflies when my teenage daughter was constantly lending a helping hand getting the laundry done.

At the time, I wondered how I was going to get my daughter to volleyball practice, my youngest to the elementary ball game, my middle son to the junior high game and my oldest son to the varsity game, plus get dinner and not forget to put my shoes on as I went out the door.  But now I see the flowers and butterflies as I think about the anticipation of playing the games, the fun we had in our large van with everyone singing along to the radio, the long talks we had on the way home and constant barrage of fast food.

The energy and planning it took to have an "all nighter" at the Workman ponderosa with about fifteen to twenty rambunctious boys was overwhelming...the cooking (I'm talking pots large enough to fit a small pony into....have you ever fed one teenage boy, much less a tribe?)    The furniture was pushed back against the walls, there was food scattered all through the house, mud on the floors, occasional blood, video game tournaments which included lots of yelling and my husband and I in bed with pillows over our heads.  But now I see flowers and butterflies when I run into those young boys who are now grown men and they hug me and start talking about the fun times at my house, when I get a call or a text from one
of "my boys" asking me to fix some chili like I used to or wanting the recipe for it.  When my son runs into one of "my boys" and my son says that this boy said to tell me that he loves me.  That is definitely some flowers and butterflies.

I just want to encourage new mothers, young mothers, tired mothers that it is worth it.  Every exhausting minute is a life time of memories.  Every second is time that you make an impression on a little mind that will someday be making grown up decisions.  Every glass of spilled milk or every trail of muddy footprints is an opportunity to teach love and patience.  Even when you're so tired that the bedtime story puts you to sleep, it's a precious memory.

It's all over so quickly it seems like you just imagined it all.  When you're older, sitting in a quiet house pondering on what used to be and your thoughts are interrupted by a grown man stomping in the door with kids in tow, and yells, "MOM!".......it's flowers and butterflies.

Proverbs 31:25  Strength and honor are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.




                                                          My flowers and butterflies.

                                         

                                           

Why Was the Stone Rolled Away?

Let's face it, the work for the Lord isn't always fun.  Be honest.  Sometimes it's boring, sometimes it's monotonous, sometimes it's difficult, and sometimes it's not appreciated.

Look at Paul, he was thrown into prison how many times?  Noah was laughed out of town.  Jonah was on the wrong side of a fishing story. And Thomas looked into the eyes of the Saviour and still had some doubts.

How many know the name of Adoniram Judson?  It's not a name that's on our tongues very often, or probably not at all.  Adoniram Judson was a missionary to Burma in the late 1700's to mid 1800's.  He went there to do the work of the Lord, to convert souls, to lead them to a Saviour, to show them eternal life.  I'm sure he went into the work with the same mindset that most of us do, "this will be great!"  However, it took Judson four years to just learn the language.  It took him twelve years to see his first convert, he was imprisoned, his wife passed away along with one of his children.  I'm sure many times he wondered if it was worth it, but, by the time he died, he had translated the scripture into Burmese, established 100 churches and seen over 8,000 souls saved.

Now, let's travel back a couple of thousand years.  Jesus, who made the cripple walk was now falling and staggering up the hill to Golgotha.  Jesus, who said, "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" was now carrying the burden of the wooden beams of his death bed and the sin of the whole world on his back.  The men and women who were given new life just saw their Hope give up his.

We can only imagine the upheaval of emotions surrounding this day, but a few days later, when the chaos had turned to shock, when the crowds had dissipated and real life began to set in, there was work to do.  It was time to go to the grave to prepare the body, to anoint the body with spices.  Not many volunteered for this job, it wasn't a pleasant thing to do, but someone had to do it.  You didn't see Peter, the one who jumped out of the boat to walk on water, volunteering.  Thomas, who still wasn't sure who the Son of Man was,  now couldn't believe it was all over.  James, his brother didn't jump up, nor did John, Jesus' most beloved friend.  I don't know, maybe it was one of those "it's a woman's job" things, but the fact was, it was an unpleasant task that had to be done, so Mary and Mary Magdalene gathered the necessary items and headed down the road toward the place where Jesus' body lay.

Jesus' body was put in the tomb that had been purchased by Joseph of Arimathea.  The burial places were usually hewn into stone and the entrance was covered by a large circular stone door that was placed in a groove that had been chipped out of the stone in front of the opening.  This circular stone could then be moved away from the opening along this groove when needed and was usually held in place by smaller stones.
 
Now, we've all heard this story hundreds of times, and though no one really ever said it, it was kind of assumed the stone was rolled back so that Jesus could get out of the tomb.  It's funny how things like this just enter one ear and fly out the other one without connecting to the brain in between.  When we stop...think....and ponder, we absolutely know that Jesus didn't need that stone moved, because, you see,  when the women arrived at the tomb, the angel rolled the stone away and Jesus was already gone.  So, what was the point?

The women were on their way to do a job and you know their hearts were just not in it.  They were dreading what lay ahead, they were doing something that no one else would do.  They probably wished they could be anywhere doing anything else than what they had volunteered to do, but there they were, walking down a dirty road, scuffing up dust clouds with their feet, mostly walking in silence and hushed tones, until they came upon the unexpected, the unexplained, the undeserved.  The stone was rolled back so they could see.

Just like in everything that was done from the first cry of that tiny baby in the animals' stall, till the last cry of "It is finished!" it was all done for you, for me, for the disciples, for Mary and Mary Magdalene, and for the generations until the end of time.  Every single word, every single action was for you.  Even the very thoughts of God Almighty are for you.  Psalms 139:17 says, "How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them!"

So many times we walk along scuffing our feet, going about the humdrum tasks that we think no one notices.  But there's always One that notices.  There's One that is keeping a record.  There's One that smiles down on us with unexpected, unexplained, undeserved blessings.

PSALMS 139
 O lord, thou hast searched me, and known me.  2 Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.
3 Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.  17 How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them!" 18 if I should count them, they are more in number than the sand:

Happy Thanksgiving

As I sit here this Thanksgiving morning, with the Christmas tree sparkling in the corner, I'm thinking of all Thanksgivings from my childhood, as a newly wed, as a mother and now as a grandmother.  What precious memories of cousins running through Grandma's and Papa's house, sitting down to dinner with my in laws, feeding my babies mashed potatoes with a little taste of gravy mixed in and watching as they experience real food, and now I'm thinking about my grandkids bursting through my door and screaming "MIMI!"

I was talking to my son one day about how much fun it was as a kid to go to my papa's house and all my cousins would be there.  I don't remember what the adults did, but I know that the cousins had a blast running through the yard to the woods and then through the fields, usually ending up in the loft of Papa's barn where our imagination took us to far away places.  I was telling him how sad that that part of my life was over.  As we were standing at the window looking out at our yard, fields and woods and what he said to me next made me put a whole new perspective on the memories of times past.  He said, "Mom, now THIS is Papa's place." 

He made me realize that although there was some sadness in memories of times past, I was passing on to my children and grandchildren the fun times, times of sitting around the table laughing, kids running through the house, the yard and lots of love being passed around. 

So, this morning, I'm going to think on all those Thanksgivings past, but not with sadness and heartache, but with a new direction of making Mimi's house the fun place to go.  The place where memories are made.  The place, when I'm gone, that they tell their children and grandchildren of all the happiness made at Mimi's and Poppy's house.

Mister Little Mouse

It's a strange day today.  All I wanted to do is go in my kitchen, as I do every morning, get a cup of coffee and a piece of toast.  Is this too much to ask? It's a simple request.

So I go over and put some bread in the toaster, walk around to the dishwasher, pull out a clean cup, walk to the Keurig and put in my favorite coffee pod, set the cup on the base, pull the handle, push the brew button, and wah lah!...coffee brewing.  After it finishes, I add my sugar and cream and take a sweet sip of my caffeine nectar.   I hear the sound of  "pop" as my toast has reached perfection, so I turn to retrieve my toast and smear some butter on it.  As I take my first step, my eyes catch up to the direction I'm going and .........AHHHHHHH!

Little Mouse, why are you sitting all humped up in front of my refrigerator just staring at me with those beady little eyes????  How long have you been staring......watching......stalking.....

After I scream and nearly drop my cup of coffee, I stomp my foot (well, what else would you expect me to do?).  Little Mouse scurries under my fridge and I tip toe to my toaster.  Okay, I'm feeling some  relief, you know, the whole outta sight outta mind sort of thing.  Feeling pretty good about myself, I take my pretty little plate of toast and my steaming cup of coffee into my living room, sit down on my favorite chair, prop my feet up and settle in to watch a little news while sipping on my tasty cup of caffeine.

I reach down to get my piece of buttery toast, put it to my mouth and raise my eyes.......AHHHHH!
Little Mouse is sitting in front of my chair across the room staring......watching......stalking.......

I jump up, toast still in hand, and Little Mouse runs under the chair, but I can still see him peeping at me under the chair.  So I do the only thing I know to do.  Stomp.  As I lay my toast in the plate, I bend to pick up my weapon of choice....my shoes.

He runs over to the tv stand and I see him starting toward the grandkids toys behind the stand.  "Oh, no you don't, Little Mouse."  Casting all fear aside, I cross the room to fight to the death.  No one messes with my grand kids' toys, not even Little Mouse.

Alright, so maybe I'm not fearless.  Thoughts of "what if he runs up my leg" and "what if he attacks" begin to pass through my mind, so I stop.  It's a stand off.  It's a flashback of the OK Corral.  With shoe in hand, I make my move.  I stomp.  He starts scurrying....I scream.....he scurries.....I throw my shoe.  Then.....OH MY LORD......he starts crawling up my curtain!  AHHHHHHH!

As I'm screaming, I throw my other shoe and pray I don't bust out a window.  It's a direct hit!  He falls to the ground....he's laying there twitching, and for a second I think, "Aww, Little Mouse is hurting and I need to baby him." 

Regaining my senses, I attack again.  Needless to say, Little Mouse will not be playing with my grand kids' toys.  No sir.....not in MY house.....huh uh.....this Mimi's bad to the bone.

So, now Little Mouse is in the resting place of all other little mouse relatives that messed with this bad mama, out in my field...where I threw him from my dust pan like throwing a shot put, turned ran in the house, slammed the door and shivered.

Whew. 

 

My Friend

We all know the Proverbs 18:24 verse, most of us have quoted it, "A man that hath friends shall show himself friendly; and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother."  It needs no explaining, it's pretty much self explanatory.  It's very simple, very direct, yet it speaks volumes. 

I love the second part of that verse because in my lifetime I have found a handful of these friends.  When you are so low that you have to look up to see the bottom and you have a person that will still be by your side, you have found a friend.

During the failing health of my mother, in which time I was still grieving the loss of my dearest sister, I had a friend.  She would let me cry to her, she would let me be angry about circumstances, she would stay by my side.  When speaking the name of my sister made other people uncomfortable, or would leave them wondering why I still talked about her after she was gone, my friend would smile at my stories and encourage me to talk more.  She not only offered to help during those long days and nights and many trips out of state, she listened, she went with me, she stayed by my side.
 
When my husband's office caught fire and had to be renovated and remodeled, there she was.  She didn't just say, "I'm sorry for your problems", she acted.  When I was painting, ripping out walls, unhinging cabinets, sanding, cleaning....there she was.  Her face was as dirty as mine and her hands as bruised.  There were days when I had to go check on my mother, but the work continued because she didn't quit, even when I wasn't there.  Oh, she said she needed to do it to get her mind off her own problems at the time, she said it helped her, but, no, I was the one who was lucky to have her in my life at that time.

There are many well intentioned people who say, "if there's anything I can do, just call" , but a friend that sticketh closer than a brother says, "I'm coming over and this is what we're going to do."
 
My friend and I have worked ourselves silly at one project or another, we've sat down to have lunch with dirty faces and stained hands, but laughed like two goons over nothing in particular.  My friend and I have gone on trips that we ended up climbing through windows, we've shopped til we actually did drop (because my friend has to touch everything in the store), we've had spontaneous outings, sweated like hogs working together, planned and decorated anything we could, fussed at inconsiderate people then feel ashamed (sometimes), had moments of panic at each other's driving, and cried together at each other's heartaches.
 

It's nothing for one of us to call the other in the morning and say, "hey, I'm going....do you want to go with me" and we jump in the car for a spontaneous trip to who knows where.  She's babysat my kids, hugged my grandkids and been part of our family gatherings.

She's not my sister by blood, but she is my heart sister.  What a grand thing to have a friend.

Proverbs 17:17a  A friend loveth at all times.....

The Joys of Motherhood

Ahhhh, the joys of motherhood.  There is not one thing on this earth that is more important than the position of motherhood.  Fatherhood is probably a tie, but I like to think we mothers are maybe one step ahead.

It begins with the sleepless nights because of this new little person in our home who really doesn't care who's asleep when the hunger pain hits. As you wake with a shock because you think the police siren is blaring in your room, you realize it's only the wails of that person who is no longer than your thigh bone.   They decide it's more fun to snuggle on mommy than to lay in their bed, and they demand their soiled diapers be changed that instant and then cry when you struggle to remove it.

And as they grow, they can live in a soiled diaper.  They don't care.  It belongs to them and they want to keep it.  So when you finally catch them sloshing through the house it takes straight jackets, body slams and wrestling moves to pin them down long enough to clean them up.

The toddler years....the terrible two's is a blur of giggles, tantrums, sticky kisses and dandelion bouquets.  There are imprints of matchbox cars and GI Joes on the soles of your feet, you don't have clothes anymore without stains, and most dinners contain chicken nuggets or mac and cheese.

During the school years your house is an art museum of pictures that contain stick families, happy dogs, and smiling suns.  You struggle to remember the spelling rules...does 'i' come before 'e' and there's something about a 'c'.....how do you divide fractions.....and last minute projects.

Oh, and teenagers....that's a whole new universe.  Where did they get that attitude and why are they acting just like me?  Riding in the car with the new driver involves white knuckles, nausea, lots of Tums and Tylenol.  There are love interests and broken hearts.....victories and failures.  They struggle and strain to burst out of their childhood cocoons to become an adult.

Even though children have no clue, mothers walk every step with them.  Sometimes you carry them, sometimes you're behind them with your arms ready to catch them, sometimes you're hiding in the background as they struggle to make decisions, but you're always in front of them with open arms for encouragement, celebration of accomplishments, or just because you love them. 

I'm so glad that I made that decision to be a mom.  I'm so in awe of those adults who used to be my babies.  I look at them and wonder how they became such great people when I bumbled and fumbled through motherhood, but that's just how God always works; He blesses our efforts and He multiplies our successes.  I was given these tiny little seeds of humans and I have seen them grow and bloom into beautiful, caring, productive adults. 

I am a mother and I am so blessed.



Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.  Proverbs 31:25

FOCUS

In a recent visit to a white, powdery sandy beach with crystal blue water, I was able to watch the dolphins put on a show each morning, and watched the pelicans swoop down and make nose dives into the ocean for a meal of seafood and then they relax and float on the waters, bobbing up and down as each little wave passed.  There absolutely has to be a God because who else could think up all this stuff!

I make it my personal challenge to find at least one shark tooth when I visit the beach. I'm a person on a mission, I'm focused, I'm a pirate in search of the treasure....I will not be defeated!  It's like I become obsessed.  That's it.  I become obsessed.  I have shark tooth obsessive compulsive disorder...S.T.O.C.D. I would walk along, talking to myself, trying to convince myself that I would come away from that beach victorious. 

One morning on my quest, I even had a man that had just a handful of shells who must have noticed my tunnel vision, and he stopped and asked me very nicely, "just what are you looking for, exactly?" in which I replied very confidently, "shark teeth."  He looked at me as if he was thinking, "Bless her heart, she's the lady with S.T.O.C.D."  So he smiled and walked away as I continued to stare at the ground in my search.  I was so focused in my search one morning that a lady had walked right up beside me and I didn't even see her until she said, "Good morning!"  I was so startled that I threw the sea shell I'd been holding straight up in the air and let out a little squeal.

Every morning I came up empty handed and on the last day of my visit before I was to catch my plane home, I made one last attempt at finding the elusive shark tooth.  As I was walking alone on the beach, I began to talk to God about my family and my friends, and I began to ponder on the wonders of this place we call earth.  How much beauty He has given us,  We have the beautiful shores to walk miles and miles on with the water lapping at our toes, and with each passing wave little odd treasures land at our feet.  There's the shells that are about the size of a baby's fingernail, there are shells that are larger than my hand...shells that have many different colors and shells that are bleached white....shells that are polished to a glassy sheen and shells that are covered in lichen.  And then there is sea glass, drift wood, starfish, sand dollars and an occasional blob of a jellyfish laying along the sand.

So, as I was walking along the beach talking to God about everything and about my quest, in the breezes of the wind and the sounds of the ocean, I believe he whispered in my ear, "You're missing the beauty all around you because you're focused on one thing."   Whoa.  God, do you really have to teach me a lesson right now?  I'm kind of busy...in my search....never mind.  I stood up, gazed up and down the beach just to put in perspective what God had just opened my eyes to and began to reflect.
 
Many people never meet their potential, never find that happiness, never have peace because they're focused on one thing and never see the beauty around them. 

Teenagers who are focused on who's most popular, who's the cutest, who's the best athlete, but they fail to see the one that is quiet, and loyal, and kind.  Husbands who focus on the new coworker who is young, attractive and willing, but doesn't see the mother of his children who is faithful.  The wife that focuses on how great her best friend's husband is, but fails to see her own husband who has worked everyday just to make her life better.  Parents focus on their children's atheletic abilities, but overlook the kindness in their hearts.  Friends focus on what you can do for me, but forget the satisfaction of giving.
 
Let's see if we can get through this day not focusing on what we don't have, but on what God has blessed us with.

If we look at Philippians 4:8, replace the word "whatsoever" with the words  "focus on"  and see if we can get a different perspective.



Philippians 4:8
8 Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.