Tag: christianmom

Stories of Women in the Bible are Anchors of Truth About Women’s Dignity and Worth

As a woman, the news is depressing. Actually, it often is. Reminders that no matter how far we’ve advanced as a society, it remains fact that women just are not as valued or protected as men. You can argue if you want, but current headlines and people in power serve as evidence.

Sometimes, as a woman, the church is depressing. Actually, it often is.  Reminders that no matter how much it is claimed that, “all are made in the image of God” women just aren’t as valued or protected as men. You can argue all you want, but get in a room full of women and ask how many have felt like second class citizens inside a local church. 🙋🏻‍♀️

I’ve been reading a book with a group of women, about women in the Bible and their place in the salvation story that is Jesus.  We meet Tuesday nights and chat about Genesis and ask deep questions and silly questions and hope out loud that we will get to keep eating our favorite foods in the New Earth. Our conversations have felt like thinly-veiled places of hope and healing and light. Because we are being reminded that despite what the news or even the church says about women and our place in the world – God reveals how truly loved and wanted we are to Him, and how needed we are to his Kingdom work.

As a woman, these stories of how women are woven into Yahweh’s story of redemption, renewal, and love are essential.  Not just essential to the coming of Jesus on Earth and furthering his message in the years after his death and resurrection, but essential to us now. These stories are anchors of truth countering the darkness of lies about women’s dignity and worth in the world.

As a woman, I will ground myself in these stories of truth and hope.  I will study Eve in the Old Testament, see how she was known and loved by Yahweh, and was used in the full circle promise as “Mother of all living.”  I will return to the gospels over and over and be reminded that Jesus demonstrated to his group of 12 men (and probably several women) followers that women are worth healing, listening to, and sending out as messengers of his love.  Jesus put himself between women and harm, both physical and emotional, over and over and over. Standing up to bullies with rocks, to Pharisees with judgment in their hearts, to cultural norms at a well, and even to his own disciple who scoffed at an act of sacrificial love in the form of spilled perfume he could never begin to fathom. Jesus valued women and saw them as God intended, co-regents, commissioned to usher in His Kingdom here on Earth.

The creator of all things known and unknown entrusted a woman to birth, nurture, empower, and send this very Savior into the world to start his Earthly mission of restoring all things. The lies of the world, and the actions of sinful humans will not convince me that He has stopped trusting women to continue His work now. As a woman, these stories and truths are the hope I cling to and in which I can rejoice. Knowing with full confidence that I, my daughters, and all the other women of God’s great world are looked upon with the utmost respect, valued beyond measure, and loved without bounds by the One who fashioned us in His image. Not just as daughters of the king, but as co-heirs and faith filled hands and feet helping to usher in the Kingdom. 

Investing time in our kids now will change their whole world

We try to be intentional about spending 1:1 time with each of our three kiddos. Special dates with Mama and Dada.

Because it doesn’t cost much to make a kid’s day.

To focus your sole attention on their little eyes, listen with your whole brain to the vast worlds inside theirs.

Maybe while some ice cream dribbles down their chin, and markers smudge their fingers.

They giggle and smile and whisper, “this is so fun, right Mama?”

They stand a little taller as they march to the car, asking to push the cart since big sis and little brother aren’t there to squabble for attention. They smirk a little while saying, “I wonder what dada is doing with them at home while we have all the fun.”

Schedules might get disrupted a bit to make that special time. Bedtime starting a little later, making your adult time that night a little shorter. But really, what a small cost to pay.

To remind your baby they are worthy of your time, deserving of your attention, and the object of your love. Just for being them. Just for being yours.

It doesn’t cost much to make a kid’s day.

But it makes all the difference in the world.

And those babies of ours, they are worth it. Oh goodness, are they worth it.

Our Kids Deserve Moms Who Ask for Their Forgiveness

I forgot my daughter’s first kindergarten assignment today. Not like, it was the first time I forgot, no… it was her first assignment ever (really, my first assignment) and I forgot to do it. It was simple – take a picture of her getting ready for school and bring it by September 3rd. Noooo problem, I told myself when I read it in her folder last Friday. I’ll get it done this weekend.

LOL.

My little kinder girl reminded me on Monday – “Mom, I need to bring my picture in!”

“No, no. Not until Friday. We have time. But let’s go ahead and take it.” I said, still confident I’d successfully be putting a printed picture in her folder for her to take in on Friday.

We took the pictures. Her pulling on her socks, backpack, and mask with exaggerated slowness so I could snap a couple pictures. Phew. Halfway there.

Wednesday came around, as it always does, and I was met with, “Maammmaaa, I need my picture!”

“Oh yes. I know. I’ll get it printed. You don’t need it until Friday, it’s ok.” My Wednesday-self reassured her as I bounced a crying baby and ushered her 3-yr old sister to the living room to get ready.

But. Then I slept for 3 hours Wednesday night because my sick 3month old was wheezing and coughing all night.

Sooooo when Thursday came around, I was running on caffeine and mom-power; y’all know that combo, right? So OF COURSE that’s when I found out my work had messed up my return from maternity leave and I’d somehow been removed from the payroll so I’d essentially been working for free for the past month. And, OF COURSE, as I was sending emails to HR, the nurse from the kindergarten called and said my daughter had been directly exposed last week to a classmate who had tested positive with COVID. I started googling where to find a rapid test available in the city, wondering if all the urgent care wait times of “548 minutes” were accurate, and asking my husband if I should just have her skip gymnastics (her fav part of the week) and take her with me to the pediatrician appointment I had for our son in a few hours to beg them to test her while we were there. He picked her up from school and we played car swap in the driveway as I made it to the doctor only five minutes late.

I got work sorted, got 2 of my 3 kids tested for COVID (both negative, thankfully), gave my wheezing baby a few puffs from his newly prescribed inhaler and Tylenol for his double ear infections, fed my kids fabulously healthy Happy Meals – then put them all to bed. I promptly sat on the couch with some cookie dough and watched an episode of Scrubs with my husband before going to bed.

Enter this morning. “Mama, I need my picture.”

Ugh.

Mom-guilt smacked me full in the face.

“Sorry, I don’t have it. I forgot and I don’t have it.”

“But, I need it! I’m supposed to have it!”

“I know, but I don’t have it. Tell your teacher I forgot and I’ll bring it later.” My voice starting to rise.

“But maaammmaaaa.”

“I’ve had a hard week! I can’t do everything for all of you all of the time!!!!”

Ugh.

It just came out. Mom of the year over here…

Her quiet little voice spoke up, “It’s not for me, it’s for my teacher…”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll go get it printed and drop it off, ok? It’ll be ok.” I felt my face get hot and my eyes start to burn as my husband left to drop her and her little sister off at their respective schools for the day.

I felt terrible guys- this was not my best parenting moment. This was not the social media worthy moment of love and affection between mother and daughter.

Was the picture a big deal? No, absolutely not. I messaged her teacher, had the picture printed at CVS, and dropped it off to her school all before her teacher even responded with, “No worries, I’ll be accepting pictures all month.”

But it was the fact I had forgotten. I’d disappointed my little girl who loves school and wants so badly to please her teacher, and then lashed out in anger when what I was really feeling was guilt for forgetting, overwhelm with the whole week, frustration with myself for not being able to do it all, and mostly – exhaustion.

Parenting? Is hard. Being a parent to small children in the middle of an on-going, no-end in sight, pandemic? Is very hard.

And I felt it this past week. And I’ll likely feel it again. And again. And again.

When juggling kids, work, a marriage, household chores, church small group meetings, extracurricular activities, etc. … Sometimes, assignments are going to be forgotten. Kids are going to get sick. Dinner is going to come from a drive-thru window. Work reports are going to be rushed. Pajamas are going to be worn to daycare. Showers are going to be fast. Laundry piles will be mountainous. Sleep will be seldom. And yes, tempers will be short. Words will be said in tones or intentions not rooted in love. These things will happen.

And apologies will need to be made.

As parents – we are NOT going to be perfect. We just aren’t. We can try our best, and be pretty darn great most of the time. But there are still going to be balls that get dropped from the juggling act we are doing on the daily. And sometimes, unfortunately, that dropping is going to be cause for apology to our kiddos. Not an angry, sassy, “Well, sorry – I don’t have it!” but a big hug after school and a, “I’m really sorry for forgetting your picture and for talking to you the way I did this morning. I was upset with myself, not you. Do you forgive me? And do you want some ice cream?”

I think it’s important that we acknowledge our humanness to our kids, and model humility by asking for their forgiveness when that humanness hurts their feelings.

It’s hard and uncomfortable and takes work. But our kids? They are so so worth it.

So, excuse me. I have to go get some ice cream ready for my girl. ❤

Mama arms are strong, but Mama hearts are stronger

Mama arms are strong.
They carry and carry, lift and lift.
Making sure babies are held and toddlers corralled.
Muscles defined like never before.

Mama arms are strong.
They carry and carry, lift and lift.
Making sure lunches are made and backpacks are packed.
Loaded with bags as she heads out the door.

Mama arms are strong.
They carry and carry, lift and lift.
Making sure sheets are bought and pictures are hung.
Embracing in the dorm as she whispers, “Just one more”.

Mama arms are strong.
They carry and carry, lift and lift.
Making sure wedding details are sorted and hearts are at peace.
Wiping her eyes as the pair grace the dance floor.

Mama arms are strong.

But one day those physical arms won’t be needed to carry, won’t be able to lift.

And that is just fine.
Because those strong Mama arms?
They do their job well, but they merely represent.

Represent the strength and love of a Mama’s heart.

Because Mama hearts –
They carry and carry, lift and lift.

Carrying their babies close forever, no matter how big.
Lifting their love to the heavens to pour down on their kids, no matter how far.

Mama arms are strong, but only because the love in Mama hearts is far stronger.

And that strength lasts for always.

The sanctification process that is the postpartum period

sanc·ti·fy (v)

present participle- sanctifying

Webter’s Dictionary defines this word as:

“set apart as or declare holy; consecrate”

“to impart or impute sacredness, inviolability, or respect to”

“to purify”

I gave birth to my third baby two and a half weeks ago so I am in the throes of the postpartum period – or the 4th trimester, as it’s often called.

Diapers overflow the trashcans in basically every room.

Spit up is on virtually every shirt I own, and every onesie he wears.

Giant pads still grace our bathroom, alongside the squirt bottle sitting next to the toilet.

Stitches, not yet dissolved, a physical reminder of the force a 10lb6oz baby has when making his way through the birth canal and into the world head-first.

Lanolin cream stashed in all the common nursing spots, to hopefully prevent the cracks and blood that accompanied my previous two nursing journeys.

Sleep coming in two to three hour stretches, bleary eyes half open as I answer the midnight cries of the babe by my bedside.

This is not my first time experiencing the postpartum period.

But, it is my first time seeing it as sanctifying.

“To purify.”

As I rock my sweet babe in the middle of the night, clad in giant pad and spit-up crusted nursing tank – I am being purified.

As I sit out from the pool until my stitches have healed, with my guy strapped to my chest, perfect lips trembling in the way only newborn lips can – I am being purified.

As I do the tenth load of laundry in a week, in between cuddles and snuggles, the scent of laundry soap mixing with that distinct baby smell that only lasts so long – I am being purified.

As work is put on hold, the general busyness of life comes to a slow crawl, but the hours in the day are long and repetitive – I am being purified.

As I have to tell my daughters I can’t play with them right now, but witness them dote lovingly on their brother – I am being purified.

Purified from selfishness. My body, time, and energy are devoted to caring for the wee one that depends on me for survival.

Purified from pride. Motherhood is the ultimate humbler, reminding me I can’t do it all and help is to be accepted.

Purified from busyness. Slowness is forced upon me, and it is a gift.

Purification and sanctification.

So, yes, this 4th trimester? It is intense. It is messy. It is painful. It is exhausting.

But, oh. It is healing. It is beautiful. It is love-filled.

It is sacred.

And for it, I am exceedingly thankful.

Becoming Mama to someone new – Can you ever actually be ready?

“Are you ready?”

They see my large, round belly and waddling gait at 37 weeks and ask.

I think about the logistical things they could be referring to and say, “Almost. We should probably buy a few more diapers. And pack the hospital bag.” Because this is the 3rd baby and eh, it’ll be fine.

“Are you ready?”

They see me loading my 2 little girls into our van and ask.

I think about adding another little to our crew and say, “We are excited! The girls are excited to have a little brother. I think they’ll be a big help. Just need to put the infant carseat in the car.”

“Are you ready?”

They hear me mention work and ask.

I think about the projects I’m passing off and the 12 weeks of unpaid time off I’m taking and say, “I’m ready to not work for a bit, but still can’t believe my company doesn’t have any paid time off.  Good thing I’ve got some time saved up!”

“Are you ready?”

They remember my previous 2 birth stories and ask.

I think about the birth course I’ve taken, the app I listen to every night, and the 300 page book I’ve read  in an attempt to calm my nerves and be as prepared as possible this time around and say, “Actually, I’m way more prepared for labor and birth than I was with the other two so I’m feeling hopeful!”

“Are you ready?”

I hear this question over and over now, and usually answer it with some half answer like the ones above.

Not quite sure what the asker means.

And not quite sure how to honestly answer.

Because this isn’t my first time buying diapers and pacifiers in anticipation of midnight changings and fussy cries.

It isn’t my first time anticipating the pain and frustration of breastfeeding during those early days/weeks/months wondering if I’m doing something wrong.

It isn’t my first time organizing tiny clothes, thinking there is no way a human could fit into anything so small, only to be surprised when it fits just right.

It isn’t my first time giving birth, or recovering from the huge physical, mental and emotional feat that is childbirth.

It isn’t my first time adjusting to an additional child, feeling torn between wanting to spend as much time with the first kid as before, but needing to tend to the new one instead.

I’ve done all these things. Most of them twice.

So you’d think, the answer to the question at hand would be an easier, “yes!”

And maybe for those things listed above, that’s true.

But…

“Are you ready?”

My mama heart knows.

It knows that those things above, while important and huge and sometimes overwhelming, are not the biggest adjustment of having a child.

Because it isn’t my first time.

Not my first time having my heart ripped from my chest to forever walk around outside my body, in the same surge of power and guttural cry that marks the end of a nine month oneness with another human being.

Not my first time feeling an instant love, almost terrifyingly powerful, mixed with slight panic as I gaze down and realize this tiny person snoozing in my arms is 100% reliant on me.

Not my first time rocking and praying in the wee hours of the night that I will be the best Mama possible to this little soul entrusted to me on this Earth.

Not my first time feeling comingled grief and pride as I watch my baby become a toddler and my toddler become a child, seemingly in an instant.

No, this isn’t my first time.

Not my first time becoming “Mama” to someone new.

And somehow, that makes me less sure of the answer to the question.

“Are you ready?

Because, my Mama heart knows.

There’s no way to actually be ready for the transformation that takes place in your heart, mind, and soul when a tiny person looks up at you for the first time –

As their Mama.

A prayer for my kids on Election Day 2020.

Jesus,

Please help me to teach my children, and lead by example, the way of Love. Your Way.

Let me raise them to feed the hungry and clothe the naked.
Let me raise them to welcome the stranger and visit the prisoner.
Let me raise them to tend to the sick and give drink to the thirsty.

Jesus, please.

Let me raise them to love their neighbor as themselves and let them understand the vastness and inclusivity of the word ‘neighbor.’
Let me raise them to take care of the widow and the orphan.
Let me raise them to strive for peace and humility while giving a voice to the powerless.
Let me raise them to know that the Kingdom is greater than one country.

Jesus, please.

Help me to show them how to use their words to instill hope and healing, not division and hate.
Help me to show them how to love their enemies and recognize that all are your image bearers.
Help me to show them that faith apart from works is barren.

Jesus, please.

Show me how to raise lights in this darkness.
For this world has been, and will continue to be, dark in the hours, days, weeks, months and years to come – no matter the outcome of this election.

Please, Jesus.

Help me be the kind of Mama that points her children to you and your ways with my words and actions.

Today, and every day.

Amen.

Mamas. If we profess to love Jesus with our lips, let us remember to act like Him as well. Especially when/if the election does not go the way we voted.

Let us remember that God chose to send his son – the King of Kings and Lord of all Lords, as a helpless baby, who grew up to be a humble man, not living in a White House, but who traveled around with nowhere to call his home, spreading love and the good news of salvation to everyone.

Let’s be careful to remember that we are members of a Kingdom not bound by this Earth first, and citizens of this country second.

Please, exercise your right to vote. It is a privilege many do not have. But please, please. Let us remember our calling and mission – to love God and love His people… all of His people… all of the time.

Little eyes are watching us and it’s our job to show them how.

Let’s be the rain this world so desperately needs.

Rain.

It cleanses and renews.

Bringing life back to dry and cracked ground.

Washing away decay and brightening the Earth.

Oh God does this land need rain right now.

We need cleansing rain to bring life back to this ground cracked with hate.

We need washing rain to pour down on humanity and revive decaying and hardened hearts.

Oh God do we need rain right now.

But, the rain isn’t going to come in a flood like the days of Noah.

The rain isn’t going to come in a downpour of holy water to change hearts and minds.

No. No. No.

The rain we need – and the rain that will start to heal?

That rain has got to come from us.

We, who have been tasked with fighting for “on Earth as it is in Heaven.”

We, who claim to want to walk in the way of the man who was the ultimate champion of the oppressed and beaten.

We, who have been given grace upon grace from He who was without fault and still slain.

So yes, pray and pray and pray. We serve a mighty miracle worker.

But also – do and do and do.

Love and love and love.

Because guys- He’s not going to flood the Earth again with water.

He’s already filled each of us, who have asked for and received the forgiveness we do not deserve, with the Living Water needed to be the cleansing rain.

It’s up to us to start raining down – raining down empathy – raining down hope – raining down cries for justice – raining down fights for the oppressed- raining down generosity…

It’s up to us to start raining down radical, transformative love.

Because Jesus? He was, and is, radical and transformative.

And He is Love.

The Earth is His

Have you ever walked outside and felt your body relax in an involuntary sigh? Like something in the essence of your soul was reunited with a missing part?

Me too.

I have been privileged to have had the outdoors be a huge part of my life. I grew up in San Diego, California and relished the feel of the sun upon my skin pretty much year-round. We took annual trips to Colorado and would spend parts of the summer backpacking in the Rockies. Hiking in the pristine woods and sleeping in tents nestled in valleys at the base of mountains. In college, I spent a semester “abroad” in the Sierra Nevadas where part of our curriculum was to spend a week backpacking with friends; hiking miles and miles a day then sleeping out under the stars and swimming in crystal lakes. The rest of the semester was spent kayaking at midnight and studying the classics outside with the meadow as a classroom. My husband and I spent the first year of our marriage teaching English in China, which allowed us to explore the great outdoors in a different country. Floating down rivers accompanied by water buffalo and sleeping in huts with lizards as bunk mates. Grand explorations of the great outdoors.

However, now that I’ve lived in South Texas for almost 6 years, and have two littles of my own, we don’t go on grand adventures much anymore. We’ve tried to make it a habit to go on walks and hikes in nature (yes! There is some in South Texas!) since we’ve moved here, but I won’t lie, it takes a lot of effort. More effort than it ever did growing up, being in college, or being newlyweds without a care in the world.

Since mid-March, that has changed a bit. My husband and I both started working from home and the girls stopped going to daycare. We’ve stopped having other commitments and started having less places to go. We’ve started going on walks around our neighborhood every-day after our work day ends and have stopped spending hours on commutes/drop-off/pick-up routines. We’ve gotten out the water toys and beach towels and have started having to de-clutter the backyard at night. We’ve made Saturdays a day for hiking to the local hidden gem of a lake along the city greenway. Arms are tanning and hair is lightening.

And ya know? So are spirits and attitudes. Don’t get me wrong, we have plenty of screen time and whining and throwing of snacks to small children to stop said whining while conference calls have to happen for work. We’ve had bad days and stressful days and hard days and mad days because that’s life right now.

But we have been spending more time outside, and it is without a doubt, good for all of us.

Last week, after a particularly enthusiastic water fight in the backyard after work, the girls had gone to bed and my husband looked at me and said, “You’re in a really good mood. It was being outside, wasn’t it?” I guess after almost 8 years of marriage, he knows me pretty well.

“Yup.” I said, “I love the sun.”

It’s true too. Growing up, I used to go outside and just lay on our sidewalk in the sun. In college, when I had a sort of freak out and called home crying one day, my mom (also a sun lover) told me to “go outside in the sun for awhile.” And it worked. I have journal entries from my semester in England (where the sun did not shine practically the whole time I was there) that say, “the sun came out today. It was a good day.”

The sun. Being outside. It energizes me. I know the sun saps some people of energy, but for me, it gives me energy. Some of my best and most profound memories and moments have happened outside, either in the sun, or under the stars. Because for me, being outside… it’s life giving.

Vitamin D is good for humans. Fresh air is good for humans. We know this. You’ve heard it during this COVID-19 crisis – spend time outdoors while you are quarantined. We have all heard that being outside is good for us at some point in our lives. We have all probably encouraged someone else to go outside because we know it is good for the mind, body, and soul.

But I personally think it is more than just Vitamin D releasing neurotransmitters in our brain.

Nature, God’s first creation – is in a constant state of worship. God is the ultimate Creator, and His creation of the Earth was not a one-time event that happened and is now over. No, He continues to create – trees continue to grow, creatures continue to multiply, waters continue to writhe – all because of Him.

So is it any wonder that standing in the midst of creation; standing in the midst of all the trees of the fields clapping their hands, we should feel awe and a sense of peace?

When we go out into nature, we are standing in the masterpiece of our Maker.

We are standing in the middle of life being breathed into the Earth.

When we go and spend time in that sacred space, we are spending time with He who created, is presently creating, and will continue to create long after we are gone.

As we continue in this time where sickness is spreading and our contact with other humans is necessarily limited, let us not forget that we still have access to the active, and very much alive, creation by the hands of our Lord.

Let us not forget that no matter what, this Earth is His.

“The Earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.” – Psalm 24:1