My Hands Are Full

If you have an active child, and especially if you have more than one, you have undoubtedly heard the phrase, "Your hands are full!"  I am never quite sure how to take this type of comment.  Is the commentator trying to make me feel better during that awkward moment my kid acts like his legs are made of Jello when I tell him he has to sit in the buggy at Wal-Mart? Is it a subtle way of telling me to get my boys under control?  Are they trying to make friendly conversation and feel they can only accomplish this by pointing out the obvious?  I'm never sure if a grunt, chuckle, or swift kick in the shin is in order.  Usually I just nod, smile through my frustration, and say, "Yep."

Last week as I stood in the check out line at Publix, my boys were acting "normal": touching all the candy close to the register, shoving each other out of the way, trying to escape and run out the doors into the parking lot.  You know, just your average trip to the grocery store.  The lady at the register smiled at me and said, "Whew, your hands are full!" I gave her a half-smile and nodded.  Something about the way she said it, however, made it seem different.  She did not say it in a condescending manner; she said it almost as though having your hands full were a good thing.

As I carried my boys to the car in a cart full of groceries and strapped them into their car seats, I realized my hands ARE full.

My hands are full of opportunities to teach my boys how to be disciples for Jesus and teach them how to be more like Him.  Every fight between brothers is a chance to teach repentance and forgiveness.  Every time they do something wrong is an opportunity to demonstrate unconditional love, the same way God loves us.  Every day is a new moment to let them see Jesus in me through my actions, reactions, and the way I love others.

My hands are full of love.  Not the mushy-gushy kind that makes my heart flutter, but the kind that takes hard work as outlined in I Corinthians 13: love is patient and kind, not jealous or boastful or rude; it does not demand its own way, it is not irritable and keeps no record of wrongs; it does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices in the truth; it never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and always endures; it lasts forever. The Lord has taught me so much about how he loves me through the way I love my children.  It is unconditional, and I would kill tigers for them.

My hands are full of life lessons that I have learned exclusively through being Ruly and Lincoln's mom.  God has given me a way of developing the fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control through motherhood.   It is almost as though God gave me these two special treasures to mold me into a better vessel for His glory.  Being a mom has given me a platform for living out His commandments and His Word.  Every day and every moment brings with it the gift of a new lesson that shapes me into a better person.

My hands are full of priceless moments that I will carry in my heart forever.  Joyful memories like watching my boys shriek with laughter the first time they splashed in the waves at the beach in Destin.  Feeling the warmth of Ruly's newborn goodness on my belly immediately following his birth and the overwhelming wave of emotions that followed.  Hearing Lincoln say "I love you" for the first time.  Sometimes I feel like Mary, taking in the events after giving birth to Jesus, and how she "kept all these things in her heart and thought about them often." (Luke 2:19).  Even on my darkest days, I can look down at my hands and feel the fullness of these precious moments.

My hands are full of hopes and dreams for my boys.  I pray daily that God give me discernment and wisdom so I can raise them to be mighty men of valor.  I envision men that will walk boldly in God's path all of the days of their life.  I pray they develop their gifts and talents so they can use them for His kingdom.  I dream of courageous men that will stay connected to the true Vine and produce good fruit through His pruning (John 15).

My hands are full of fleeting moments that pass like sand dripping through a tight fist.  This is a short season.  I only have a limited time to nurture them, hug and smother them with kisses, and laugh hysterically at their potty jokes.  There will come a time that I will no longer tuck their sweetness into bed or read them "If You Give a Mouse A Cookie" for the 100th time.  Soon they will be too heavy for me to pick up when they aim their little arms towards me and say, "Hold you, mommy."  Very close in the future, they will no longer ask me to play trucks with them or pretend to eat a special meal they have "cooked" for me out of play dough. This time period will be gone before I know it and I should seize each moment, both good or frustrating, because I will long for these moments in the future. May this season "teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom." (Psalms 90:12)

My hands are full...and that is a good thing.

What's in Your Pantry?

I try my hardest to keep our kitchen clean, but this is a difficult task with two active boys in my house.  I sweep 1-2 times a day, and it always looks like I'm cleaning up after a fraternity party.  I try to do a deep cleaning a few times a month, but let's face it; there are far more pressing issues to take care of than organizing shelves, polishing nooks and crannies, and emptying out the pantry.  Most of the time a "maintenance clean" is about all I can handle.  My mom calls this "cleaning your face but leaving your bottom dirty". (Have you met my mother?  She is pretty hilarious.)

A few weeks (cough, ahem, MONTHS) had passed since I cleaned out my pantry.  Who has the energy for this task when I am constantly wiping up teensy crumbs and cups of spilled red juice off my freshly mopped floor?  Things were piling up on the shelves and it was a hot mess in there.  Cans were mixed with the cereal boxes, spices were in the wrong place, and I'm pretty sure 1/2 a bottle of syrup had exploded somewhere on the floor that I hadn't been able to see in several weeks.  It was embarrassing.  No problem; I can just shut the door of that messy closet and no one will know it looks like World War III in there.  The only issue with my strategy?  Something was starting to smell.  I'm not talking a, "Hmm, I wonder what that odor could be?" smell; it was a "Holy mother of Abraham Lincoln, what is that?" stench.  The aroma of death attacked my nostrils every time I opened that door. I had no idea where the smell was coming from; it was going to require me to empty out my entire pantry to find the culprit, and ain't nobody got time for that.  I continued to shut the door, especially when guests came over; the offensive "perfume" was contained as long as the pantry door was closed.

One afternoon, I walked into my home after picking up my son from preschool, and the smell had started to permeate the whole house.  I dry heaved as I started lighting every candle I owned, but it was no use.  I was going to have to face this unpleasant task with the added bonus of inhaling vomit-inducing fumes.

After several minutes of emptying the pantry, I found the culprit:  a forgotten bag of potatoes that had started to ferment.  It.  Was.  Nasty.  Not only had roots started growing out of each potato, but liquid was puddled at the bottom of the bag.  It was my very own homemade vodka.  The cloudy liquid was seeping out of the bag and onto my floor and other food items touching it. I quickly threw this sack and everything touching it away.  After finding the root of the problem, it was much easier to figure out what I had to do.  I dried up the "vodka" and sanitized the floor.  I organized shelves.  I made sure everything was in plain sight; I was not going to make the mistake again of keeping things so messy that items lay in there hidden and forgotten.

I started thinking about that hidden sack of rotting potatoes and how it is so much like hidden sin in our lives.  In her Bible study Stuck, Jennie Allen says, "We deal with the big, showy, obvious sin that everyone sees, but the invisible stuff is trickier, sneakier, deadlier."  It is much easier for us to wipe away the crumbs and red juice that obviously trash our spiritual floor.  We know to avoid the sins that everyone can see:  murder, drunkenness, adultery, etc.  Our exterior is kept pristine because it is what is visible, and we want others to think that we have it all together.  But, what is lurking beyond the surface?  The very thing you think no one sees and no one smells.  If left unchecked, it can permeate every crevice of your soul until it is obvious that something stinks.  No matter how many doors you close.

Hidden sin comes in many shapes and forms.  Pride, idolatry, greed, envy, arrogance, jealousy, lust, evil desires, anger, and resentment are all examples of sin that burrows deep within and starts fermenting our souls.  I have found that most of the sin the Bible talks about is the kind we can keep private and concealed.  I believe this is the case because covert sin is the most destructive. It penetrates our very core, steals our joy, and saturates our mind with negativity.  Since we battle these sins alone, we suffer in solitude.

Sometimes we suffer the horrible smell of hidden sin and have to dig deep in our heart to find the culprit.  David wrote in Psalms 19:12-13,

"How can I know all the sins lurking in my heart?  Cleanse me from these hidden faults.  Keep your servant from deliberate sins!  Don't let them control me.  Then I will be free of guilt and innocent of great sin." 

I was challenged by my women's life group to identify idols in my life.  I pictured people kneeling and bowing down before a golden statue and trusting in graven images or praying to other gods.  Based on that definition, I didn't have any idols; this was not an issue for me.   As I started to search my heart, however, I realized that an idol is anything that takes our focus off God and places them elsewhere.  I suffered feelings of fear and felt overwhelmed when something was out of my control or comfort zone. I suddenly found my rotten sack of potatoes:  I was putting the god of my comfort over the God of my life.  Eek.  It smelled.  My fear of confronting my fermenting sack had caused me to resist living completely abandoned to the will of God. It affected every thought, action, and inaction in my life and I could no longer cover it up.  After I identified the source of my issue, the only thing left to do was repent and throw that stinky mess away.  In Colossians 3:5, the Bible says:

"So put to death the sinful, earthly things lurking within you..."

By putting to death my hidden sin of idolatry, I could start to sanitize and clean up the wreckage it had left behind.  I am on the road to freedom. 

Let's not get so caught up in our outer self that we neglect the pantry of our soul; while people may look at our outward appearance, God looks at our heart (I Samuel 16:7).  No amount of shutting doors or pretending it doesn't exist will make it go away.  It takes a proactive approach to find the culprit causing havoc.  Don't let the smell fester; there is freedom and cleansing that comes from cleaning out the pantry.  

Hiding Among the Baggage

At the beginning of this year, I attended a Bible study to discuss the book  A Heart Like His by Beth Moore, an extensive look at the life of David.  I will admit, I went into the study thinking I knew a lot about King David:  a harp-playing shepherd boy that killed a giant using a slingshot and a stone becomes a king that had an affair with a married woman but was a man after God's own heart.  The End.  Boy, was I wrong!  There was so much I didn't know; I enjoyed digging deep into the Word to learn about this man that, in spite of his short-comings and sinfulness, completely and wholeheartedly loved and feared God.

Through this study, I became quite intrigued with King Saul, David's predecessor.  I found that I had more things in common with this man than I was willing to admit.  This man was "the most handsome man in Israel--head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the land" (I Samuel 9:2), yet struggled with self-confidence, poor self-esteem, and was very self-conscious.  Sound familiar, ladies? He was so focused and worried about what others thought of him that his focus was off God and on himself instead.

One particular passage really stuck out to me as I read about Saul.  God had revealed to Samuel the prophet that Saul was the man who would govern his people (I Samuel 9:17).  Samuel had anointed Saul and told him that the Lord had appointed him, a man from the smallest tribe, to rule over Israel.  Samuel summoned all of Israel to declare Saul king.  The bible goes into detail about the dramatic selection process, but Samuel and Saul already knew that the outcome would show that Saul would wear the crown.  When the big moment arrived to declare Saul the king, he was no where to be found.

"...and finally Saul son of Kish was chosen from among them.  But when they looked for him, he had disappeared!  So they asked the Lord, 'Where is he?'  And the Lord replied, 'He is hiding among the baggage.'" (I Samuel 10:21b-22, emphasis added).

Hiding among the baggage.  Those words kept resonating with me after I read them.  Hours after reading that passage, they continued to come back to me.  After mulling that phrase over and over, I realized that I act like Saul sometimes.  The moment I became I mother, God handed me a very important ministry: raising children (and in my case, boys) that will grow into Christ-followers.  They are my "kingdom of Israel" that He appointed and anointed me to lead.  My focus should be on God to fulfill this daunting task. I should trust that God will equip me to do what He has called and chosen me for.  However, there are so many moments during this motherhood journey that take my eyes off of God and I shift them on myself.  In these moments I find myself hiding in baggage of self doubt, stress, and lack of confidence in my ability to raise my boys.  I look at my short-comings and feel so incapable and hide.  I get anxious when a parenting issue arises and I hide.  I fear that I am royally screwing this "mom" thing up, and I hide.

Perhaps your baggage looks different from mine.  Maybe in your life, your baggage comes disguised as a busy schedule, depression, lack of confidence, or a haunting past.  Maybe it is fear that you aren't doing this "right".  Perhaps it's a troubled relationship in your life.  Regardless of what shape or color your baggage comes in, it all has one thing in common:  They are distractions that keep us from rising up and doing God's work.  We must come out of hiding and accept our divine appointment.

Saul finally came out of hiding and Samuel declared him king.  The Bible continues and states that Samuel "told the people what the rights and duties of a king were.  He wrote them down on a scroll and placed it before the Lord." (I Samuel 10:25).  How awesome! God knew Saul needed help and handed him the tools needed to fulfill his calling.  He knew Saul could not do it on his own.

He loves mothers so much and does the same for us!  With our eyes on Him, He hands us the "scroll" and keeps our emotions in check.  We can't hide in our baggage if He is guiding us.

Come out of hiding!  God is waiting for us to let Him guide us.  We are not doing this on our own.  Leave the baggage behind and come and see that the Lord is good.

What does your baggage look like?

Hard-Copy Proof

My parents have rows of old home videos and tons of photo albums documenting things from the early days of their marriage, the birth and early days of both of their children, every school or sporting event, our graduations; the shelves in their family room are chock full of a lifetime of memories.  I love pulling out an album and seeing myself as a three year old looking down at my brand new brother home from the hospital, or an image of my family taking me to school on my very first day of Kindergarten.  There are videos of Christmas mornings, family vacations, and random days of play in the park.  I am so thankful to my parents for creating hard-copy proof of the life we have shared as a family.

My Christmas gift to my dad this past year was a VHS home video converted to a DVD.  This weekend we sat down to watch the DVD together, and a flood of memories came washing over me.  In this video, I had just turned six years old, my brother was three, and we were visiting various places in Europe.  We were stationed in Germany until I was almost seven, and seeing the images on this particular home video brought faint memories to mind:  our old apartment that overlooked two playgrounds, the smell of yeast in the air when we would pass by the German bakery, the quaint look of German buildings in cute little towns.  We laughed as we recalled the places we visited, the things we did as young children, and the way we looked in 1988. 

This 2 hour video made me feel very nostalgic and reflective.  The Psalmist David wrote in Psalms 144:4, "They (humans) are like a breath; their days are like a fleeting shadow." Life is but a vapor.  My children, ages 3 and 11 months, will not be these tender ages forever.  What am I doing to document these precious days?  

I grow sad as I realize that I do not have rows of home videos or shelves of photo albums.  In a day and age where the convenience of a camera or video lies at my fingertips, I have accepted that keeping my memories on my Iphone is enough. I have hundreds of pictures and short videos on my phone of my boys, and I share images of our days on Instagram and Facebook, but I am not doing enough to preserve these priceless memories.  In the word's of Spiderman, my Iphone has become "my gift and my curse".  I love that I can snap a picture or record a short clip at a moment's notice, but I have found too much comfort in this technology that I am not "backing up" these little gems.  Technology doesn't last forever; phones get accidentally washed in washing machines, laptops crash, computers get viruses.  Social media sites, like MySpace, can become uncool overnight.  Am I willing to sacrifice all of those memories because I didn't bother to print pictures or format my videos? 

When I became a mom, exhaustion became a rite of passage.  It is easy to get wrapped up in day to day responsibilities, so much so that I forget to breath and take in the little things that I will one day miss.  This is why I have decided that I will do better about documenting milestones and daily life.  I want to remember the way Ruly's hair has a stubborn curl in the front of his hairline that just won't lay right.  I want to recall in the years to come Lincoln's sweet almost-toddler laugh as he plays "Peek-a-Boo" for the hundredth time.  I want to sit down with my boys when they are in their 30s and giggle as we watch a home video of our family trip in 2017.  I want to almost smell the sweet scent of baby lotion as I run my finger through an album of my children as infants.  I want to give my boys what my parents gave me:  hard-copy proof of our life together to remember our days that are like "a fleeting shadow".

How do you preserve your memories?

Mommy Needs a Siesta

     Anything worth doing takes hard work, dedication, and can be exhausting.  Motherhood has been no exception!  I learned this truth when I became a mother over three years ago. As I held my son for the very first time, I was overwhelmed by many emotions.  Love, joy, adoration....and a little bit of sheer terror.  I had no idea what I was in for!  This little 6 pound 11 ounce blessing came with no instruction manual, no how-to videos.  I was fully responsible for this little bundle; he was all ours.
     I discovered very quickly that being a mom required a lot of "on the job" training.  Any shred of confidence I had disappeared the moment we brought baby home.  I had read books, talked to other mothers, gone to the prenatal and parenting classes. Still, I felt so inadequate at this grand task. And absolutely nothing prepared me for the exhaustion I felt!  I didn't really believe that babies woke up every two hours to eat; who knew?
     As I continue on this wonderful, and oftentimes tiring journey, I realize that there are other mothers out there going through the same experiences and would benefit from someone telling them:  "I know how you feel!  You are doing a great job...hang in there!"  This is why I decided to start blogging. My wish is to be very transparent; I want mothers to read my posts and feel encouraged that you are not alone!  I wish to create a community of mothers that support and love on each other, holding up a mirror to our face so that we can see ourselves the way God sees us.
    On those seemingly endless days full of diapering, cleaning, breaking up fights, and feeling like all you need is a little siesta to make it all better, let this be your mantra:

"So let's not get tired of doing what is good.  At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we do not give up."
Galatians 6:9