Twenty-six Seconds in Hindsight (the smidge that got smudged)

I had a friend in high school whose mom was totally weird. Nearly twenty years later, I’m that weird mom. Case in point:  Sometimes I make you yell at me, as I love to see your confidence. It’s a little game we play occasionally after breakfast on mornings when Dad leaves early for work, lest he think I am - well - weird.

I go stand in the pantry and dare you to sing the song “My God is So Big” loud enough that I can hear you. When you and your brother accomplish this, I go to the next challenge.  Can you sing it loud enough that I can hear you in the bathroom?  The bedroom down the hall?  Upstairs?  Outside?  Just how loud can you shout my God is so big, so strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do?

“Do not be afraid. Keep on speaking. Do not be silent.”

This was the memory verse last week at church - Acts 18:9. I knew it was going to be about teaching you to speak up for Christ. I just didn’t know how fitting it could have been. Turns out it’s not only about telling others about God, it’s about reminding ourselves and reminding you, sweet one, who He is.

One week ago we conquered something…I taught you to downhill ski. Now there was a time when I vowed I would not teach you this skill, after seeing how poorly it goes for the majority of parents on the bunny hill. I’d hire someone else. Leave it to the pros. But my nostalgia won over. I knew you’d remember this day, and I wanted you to remember it with me.

With that, I warned you it would be really hard. Then I proceeded to tap into a parenting skill that will save you innumerable tantrums.  IT’S A GAME CHANGER.  I played the goofball card.  I skied backward - a lot. I danced.  I sang lame songs. I jumped up and down. I made stupid comments like “This is incredible - you did it! You really did it! I never expected you to get this far on the first day! Look at you - you got one ski boot on!”

And then we dismounted the chairlift.  More accurately, I dismounted the chairlift, and when I realized you were still on, now up over my head, I yanked you off and we both tumbled down. You giggled at first, but I could see the tears welling up.

The second time, we boarded the lift flawlessly and up we went. At the halfway point, I could sense your tension. Fear was mounting in you like a shaken carbonated soda. You were going to explode. And this is where, in hindsight, I should have spoken God’s love over you.

Instead, I changed the topic.  I said that surely you couldn’t count to ten when you were so afraid. And you counted to ten. Then I asked how loud you could sing the alphabet. And you yelled the alphabet. And I felt proud that the more you recited the less you were thinking about your fear. With that, it was time to stand up, hold hands and dismount the chairlift, which you did beautifully.

In hindsight, this could have been the coolest twenty-six second devotional ever. What if I asked you to yell your song as loud as you could? You would have. I know you would have. And your mind still would have been directed away from your fear. Only difference is, in twenty-six seconds, you would have been speaking God’s power over your fear.

My God is so big, so strong and so mighty there’s nothing my God cannot do. The mountains are His. The rivers are His. The stars are His handiworks too. My God is so big, so strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do.

Thirteen Minutes

I was sitting at a stoplight a few months ago and noticed another mom idiling next to me. Upon first glance, she looked like she was paying attention to the road. Only because my Jeep was taller than her sedan could I see that she was udderly distracted. She was sitting there, waiting for the light to turn green, with a hand-held breast pump shoved up her shirt.

Really. Udderly distracted.

Now Mimi, your mama knows about pumping breast milk in unpleasant places. Camping tents. Bathroom stalls. And yes, passenger seats. I’ve done it. But the driver's side? I wondered how busy her morning must have been in order to arrive at her current predicament. Lord help us.

We mamas have gotten so busy. No doubt by the time you’re on this adventure, you will be busy. I’m ashamed to admit that I have let a day go by without having a meaningful moment with you. I am conscience-stricken that on some days the most eye contact I've made with your baby sister may have been while she lay on the changing table. Do I really want her quality time to be associated with wiping poo?

Paster Joe once said something about this, and it's worth sharing. Not about changing diapers, but about relationships and time. The most important person in the world is the one we are with right now.  I’m with you everyday, but do I make you feel like our relationship matters?

That said, 2013 brings a resolution- thirteen minutes every day of twenty thirteen. I pretty sure it’s how long this computer takes to boot. It also happens to be how long it takes me to brush my teeth, shower, shave my legs, get dressed and put make-up on.  It’s about how long it takes me to recite the book of James…but that’s another blog. With intent, much can be accomplished in thirteen minutes.

With the dawn of twenty-thirteen breaking, I’ve resolved to spending at least thirteen minutes a day with you. We can do whatever you want, but homework doesn’t count. Neither brushing your teeth nor combing your hair.  Maybe we’ll draw a picture, just you and me. For Baby M, I’ll sing timeless nursery rhymes, without getting up ever thirty seconds. Maybe for Beau I’ll stomp my feet and chase him as he squeals in delight. It matters less what we are accomplishing, and more that you feel like in that moment, you are the most important person in the world.

Why? Because relationships matter. In our world of technological separation anxiety, relationships matter more than ever. Taking the time to be with you every single day, matters.

Lord help me never act like I am too busy, lest I end up pumping on the corner of Alberta and Francis.

Smidge 2: Be kind to everyone devotional

Dear Mimi,

There are several verses I plan to brand on your heart before you leave this home. One of them is 2Tim 2:24, so I chose it as our weekly memory verse. Someday I'll have these verses neatly outlined in a tidy folder with ideas on how to apply. Or, more likely, I'll just wing it when we miss church and I have no idea what verse they presented.

"Be kind to everyone." It gets a lot of air time. How could you not, it's my universal response to hitting, fighting, eye-ball-rolling, and most other offenses.

It's a bit of a stretch to call this a devotional- about the same stretch as is required for me to fit into pre-maternity clothing. Something that takes me one minute to prepare and thirty-five seconds for you to accomplish cannot possibly be a devotional. But alas, your getting some Word, so here it is.

Add caption

Using bright paper, write out the words to 2 Tim 2:24 "Be kind to everyone". Then chop it up at an age appropriate level. You Mimi, had to build it back letter by letter. Beau had to piece it word by word. Yes, that's a pile of M&Ms in the middle for reward.

Strong and Courageous

Dear Mimi,
In one of my most courageous moments as a mom, I sent you to school yesterday. What happened last Friday in Conneticut had me praying for a snow day. Lots of snow days, all in a row, so that I might keep you home until the new year. Instead, it rained, and you missed the bus because my knees were too shaky to get you there in time.

I drove you to school and could have love-pummeled your kindergarten teacher. But upon seeing the look in his eyes I knew we'd both end up crying and the children would ask why. Same thing at the office when I dropped off a check. The secretary said thank you and we exchanged a moment where I looked at her like she was a soldier wearing a purple heart. I know she'd have done what they did. You took gifts to school for each of your classmates yesterday and returned with many of them. When I asked, you said that they were all absent but didn't know why (praise God you didn't know why) Twenty-five percent of your fellow classmates had mommies that wanted a snow day so bad they kept your friends home.

Mimi, I don't know why this happened. I did read a nice remark here that is worth the time. I do know that we live in a fallen world. A fallen world where so much evil exists my mind could constantly dwell on it's destruction. In the midst of that evil, the darkness that surrounds us, I'm doing my best to focus on this one thing. That we have hope. We have a Babe in a manger. At night when your mom is tormented with thoughts of what those families are facing, I envision a woman, with a nature like mine, on a maternity road trip, knowing what was ahead, not knowing what was ahead. I refocus to a Babe in a manger. A rescue plan.  In this fallen world, we need a Savior, now more than ever.