grace

What They Really Need

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There’s a popular reel floating around on the internet with the caption , To you it’s just another ordinary day, but to them it’s their whole childhood.

At first glance, I agreed. After all, shouldn’t we seek to fill these moments with vibrant, creative splashes in an attempt to transform our everyday ordinary into extraordinary. The particular video I watched featured a perfectly polished mama making muffins with her tiny daughter(who somehow emerged from the kitchen unscathed!). I saw another one boasting the same sentiment featuring a little boy enamored by a new sensory bin carefully curated by his parents. The scenarios were enchanting, and [if I’m honest] a bit intimidating[read: guilt-inducing].Immediately I mentally inventoried all of our educational items and started to plan my own sensory experiences for the kids and our magical days. This wasn’t a bad thing. I’m not degrading the heart behind the message. It seems–at least to me– that these mamas are encouraging us all to stop and consider the brevity of each day with our precious ones. And it is true:what seems like a day full of chores and neverending parenting to us is their childhood. And of course I want my children to reflect on these formative years and remember the good. BUT a familiar call echoed in my mind as I considered this. In the midst of my pressing urgency to create a counterfeit magic for the kids, I remembered what was most impactful in my own foundational years. It wasn’t a perfect experience or day. It was all of the moments in between–hearing my mama’s voice permeate the house in her very ordinary task of washing dishes. Walking in to the inviting aroma of my dad’s food steaming from the kitchen after a draining rehearsal. Reluctantly accepting my mama’s embrace in the confusion of my teenage years because , “physical touch is important”. Watching through the window as my dad–weary from a long day’s work–whistled to the tune of the lawn mower. Drifting drowsily asleep to the sound of my parents sharing another silly story–laughing together in the living room after what must have been another full ministry day. I can vividly remember these moments, for these were the ones that filled our days. And I’m sure that there were magical moments, too. In fact, I know there were(this is why we make those photo albums, right?!)! But my most treasured times were the ones when life was just happening for all of us. It wasn’t always picturesque(and let’s be honest–social media isn’t an authentic portrayal of life anyway), and it wasn’t always comfortable. There were probably days when the call to shepherd my little soul seemed a challenge insurmountable. I probably did help my mama in the kitchen, and I guarantee I caused more chaos than calm(because baking with littles is MESSY)! And I’m sure that both of my parents strived to curate beautiful experiences to incite wonder and cultivate curiosity, but the most meaningful moments existed when I got to observe obedience in the lives of my parents.

They weren’t living to give me the perfect childhood. Instead, they were seeking to live for the glory of God. Loving me was a part of that, certainly. But it was only part of the whole.

redeemingmundane

I was not the center of their world then just as my children do not consume mine now. At the heartbeat of everything they did was the glory of Christ. This steadfast mindset pervaded our home and punctuated every thought. That ensured that even our most discouraging days were not without hope. If we bickered, there was reconciliation. If we faced hardship, there was a call to endure. If we failed(each other or in life) there was still peace.Even in our messiest moments, my parents could rest in light of God’s Gospel promises(and they were careful to instruct us in those promises, too). They would admit that it was imperfect(and no one can boast otherwise), but to me it was a stunning testament to God’s mercy and grace.

My children don’t need a tidy home, a perfect day adventuring or even a special shared experience with me as much as they need to be pointed to the Faithful God who created them. Of course, there is nothing wrong with enjoying fun-filled days or basking in the flow of a peaceful, engaging day. But let us not forget that in our hard, ugly moments(when your family’s rhythm is just off and the days feel long)–our Father remains the same.The beauty is there, too. He is just as pleased with us in the mundane moments as He is in our ambition to enliven other days. It is not because of us, but rather because of who He is(2 Tim. 2:13, Numbers 23:19,etc)

I’m so thankful for parents who modeled that in my beginnings(and still do now). It is good and right that we live every day to the glory of God(and sometimes that might mean your sensory boxes are ON POINT)! But on the other days, when you wrestle with feeling insufficient, rest in the freedom of living to this chief end:

We do not segment our lives, giving some time to God, some to our business or schooling, while keeping parts to ourselves. The idea is to live all of our lives in the presence of God, under the authority of God, and for the honor and glory of God. That is what the Christian life is all about.” – RC Sproul

“I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I want to be, I am not what I hope to be in another world; but still I am not what I once used to be, and by the grace of God I am what I am”
― John Newton

8 He will also keep you firm to the end, so that you will be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. 9 God is faithful, who has called you into fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. - 1 Corinthians 1:8-9
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In This Job

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I often forget that this is the dream. In those long, awkward teen years, when I wondered if a boy would ever notice me, this is the man I prayed for.

And on the hectic, stifling college days when my dorm suite kitchen squeezed me in, this was the house I imagined.

It was enough for me to dream, to hope—to pray—that this would be my one day.

Of course those days were tearfully joyful and sorrowful with every emotion mixed in-between. It is not lost on me that the days of my youth were a sweet symbol of a season that will never again be.

But this life…this was the beginning of forever. It was my impossible prayer, my pipe dream; the dream within the dream.

So why then does my heart so easily forget?

And once again, Jeremiah’s warning that the heart is deceitful cautions my wayward heart…

They won’t be little forever, reminds my husband lovingly. And while he is right, sometimes—lately especially—this heart forgets. I become enraptured with other seemingly lofty thoughts—or even new dreams that have skewed my perspective. The caveat here is, naturally, that dreams aren’t necessarily destructive. But my placement of these dreams is.

This job has been given to me to do. Therefore, it is a gift. Therefore, it is a privilege. Therefore, it is an offering I may make to God. Therefore, it is to be done gladly, if it is done for Him. Here, not somewhere else, I may learn God’s way. In this job, not in some other, God looks for faithfulness.

Elisabeth Elliot

For me, this is the job. I could pursue more if God allowed but for this season, I am home. If I’m being honest, some days I wrestle with the calling. Of course I have career goals, and my days don’t always feel the most stimulating, but they are good because their Author is. And even when I’m feeling the moments are wasted [which is a lie permeating my thoughts all too often] there is so much joy in this quiet life. All of the sweaty kisses, carefully curated dress up shows, nighttime rocking rituals coupled with hymns and laughter, foraging adventures, tree excursions and every moment in between and thereafter. For now—for always—instead of a forgetful [read: discontented] spirit I can choose gratitude.

It is here, and not somewhere else, that I may learn faithfulness.

Oh Father, may my fickle heart ever treasure the beauty of these sacred, fleeting moments!

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Small Beginnings of Grace

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Our middle little has been particularly challenging the last few months. Not because of a stubborn spirit. Not for failure to obey. Not because her heart is hard. It is, in fact, quite the opposite problem–her tenderness. I hesitate to use that word problem because being soft-hearted is something I pray often over my children. But lately—and I’m not sure if it’s because we’re juggling busyness again, or just for the fact that I have 3 under 5—her little emotions seem to have run haywire. Some days my husband and I exchange puzzled glances wondering how to move forward. I suppose, however, that is not uncommon in this journey of parenting, as a whole. But this feels different. Our sweet girl cries instantly over seemingly the smallest details—my tummy isn’t hungry for this food, I wanted to give you one more hug, my chalk isn’t coloring right, my barbie car won’t fit., the water in the bath tub isn’t right, my pants won’t go on..and the list goes on and on. You may be shaking your head at my overstatement of the obvious—she’s a toddler. In fact, she’s not just a toddler, she’s three. That’s the age so far that has challenged me most. I think most can agree that it’s easy to Google developmental milestones to see why. 3 is that magical age(at least for the kiddos in our family) where they’re learning to deeply interact with the world and relationships around them. They’re asking questions. They’re exploring. And they’re responding as they learn to think critically. With our eldest, we didn’t experience an amalgam of emotions because she is more logical. She asked, we answered and she(for the most part) trusted us. When we didn’t know the answer, we would research together and she retained much. That is just the way she was made. But with our very fragile, tender middle it is entirely different. That’s not to say that both of my daughters don’t harbor gentle, sensitive spirits. I’ve seen it manifested in both on different occasions and under different circumstances.

However I recently discovered that—like me–our sweet girl feels deeply. When she is hurt, she’s down hard. When she is joyful, her spirit bursts forth with singing. When she is feeling silly, she’s the family comedian. And even though her emotions seem to weigh me down sometimes(because I don’t often know how to respond, or don’t have the capacity to respond in patient love) these are the very means by which she will be used mightily one day.

The other day I stumbled upon these words which express what my heart has needed so well:

Let us not therefore be discouraged at the small beginnings of grace, but look on ourselves as elected to be ‘holy and without blame’. Let us look on our imperfect beginning only to enforce further striving to perfection…otherwise, in case of discouragement, we must consider ourselves as Christ does, who looks on us as those he intends to fit for himself. Christ values us by what we shall be, and by what we are elected into. We call a little plant a tree because it is growing up to be so. ‘Who has despised the day of small things?'(Zech. 4:10). Christ would not have us despise little things

The Bruised Reed, Sibbes

I think I realized that on my weary and worn days, when I’m feeling irritable or sluggish, I only see those emotions negatively. Every complaint, or cry of frustration and woe just exasperates me. But I’m forgetting to see those small beginnings of grace in my sweet girl’s life. Yes, she’s the first one to cry–and sometimes wail-(at an eye-twitching pitch)-when she doesn’t get her way, or she is angered by some insignificant detail of the day. BUT she’s also the first and last person to hug her baby brother before nap and bedtime(something she requests daily). And she’s also the one who prays fervently for my aches and pains every night as we tuck her in( Lord, please help mama’s tummy. Please make mama’s headache go away, Lord, I’m so sorry that mama’s nose was bleeding today. Please make her better). She’s quick to notice when people are hurting, or lost in sadness. And she’s there to help, hug, or just be present in that broken moment. She is our feeler in every sense of the word. But there’s also a hidden consistency there that I often miss–her faithful spirit. In every emotion, she commits. I know that sometimes this is expressed sinfully, but it is a trait there nonetheless. She is unwavering in her tenderness and strength. And when this is expressed appropriately it is stunningly beautiful.

But sometimes, as she reminds me, “it’s just hard being 3”. So on those long days(which have been many as of late) I want to remember this. Her little heart won’t always use these gifts well–because she isn’t perfect. But the potential—the goodness–is there, because these are those small beginnings of grace for which we, as her parents, pray regularly. We ask the Lord to work within her heart, to draw her to himself, to make her see his pure, abundant love. And these precious, fragile emotions might just be the means by which she sees who He is and serves those around her. If only my own sinful heart wasn’t obscuring the view…

I’m so grateful that God has allowed me to see more of His gracious, steadfast spirit in this privilege of motherhood. I’m forever thankful that He doesn’t deal with me impatiently, but quietly and tenderly. He is constantly, faithfully drawing me into deeper rest and recognition that I can’t mother well apart from His matchless mercy and grace.

And I’m going to try–especially when my heart feels faint—to look upon my sweet little one as who she might become instead of seeing her flaws(of which I have many, too).

Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.

1 John 3:2