Transformation: Post 1, Motherhood

Romans 12:2  (NIV) 

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

TRANSFORM.  Instead of making resolutions in January, I always ask God for a word to define my year.  A few days into 2016, God gave me “transform”.  I laughed for two reasons:

 #1:  I was giant pregnant at the time (40 weeks and counting), so I certainly hoped I’d transform from that burgeoning state to a slimmer, baby-holding one.

 #2:  My brothers watched the original Transformers show when we were little, so the theme song played in my head.  “Transformers, robots in disguise.  Transformers, more than meets the eye.”

I thought a little more about those TV robots.  They were actually pretty bad-ass.  Looking at them in car form, you’d underestimate the big, strong machine they could become.  Transformers can battle anything in their path!  Yeah.  I started to like this word.  Maybe God had some power coming up in my life.

So, now it’s December 30^th.  2016 is almost over.  My transform year.  What happened?  What changed?  A lot, actually.  Looking through my journal, I narrowed it down to five big ones.  Five things that I didn’t see coming, didn’t know were possible, and am now ridiculously joyful about.  They are:  motherhood, Catholicism, consistency, no panic, and no sugar.  I’m going to share them one at a time in separate posts.  I thought I might get more reader interest if I abbreviated it into one, all-encompassing post, but writing this blog is for me too, and I’d like to process each individually.

There are two important elements that bind the five transformations together, like a book with its spine and cover.  First, absolutely NONE of this would be possible without the awesome power of God.  He is the Author of life, and His Spirit working inside me is the only road to change.  Through this year, I learned that I don’t just need God in order to get better at life, but that He is my life.  The transformations started as the focus, but each one is actually the result (or the Christianese “fruit”) of finding satisfaction and strength in God.  Second, transformation is better with a buddy.  As I reflect on the five areas, I see how God put a key person or cluster of people beside me to give hope and encouragement.  The TV Transformers weren’t alone in their battles, and neither was I.  It’s been a bad-ass year.

Transformation 1:  Motherhood

I think the transformation into motherhood seems obvious.  I went from not having a child to having a child.  There were lots of changes to my physical environment (read: toys and soiled clothing everywhere), daily schedule (or lack thereof), and emotions (lots of them).  While tough, these are not the parts of motherhood that merit the association with my word from God.  My true motherhood transformation happened in the middle of the night.

My son, Luke, was not a good sleeper.  Before having a baby, I imagined myself having these strong instincts to comfort my little one when I was needed.  In reality, what came forth under pressure was a whole mess of selfishness.  I didn’t want to get up again.  I didn’t want to rock him while he screamed.  I didn’t want to breast feed.  I just wanted to sleep and have my body left alone.

I’m married to a man who is a teammate like no other.  Jeff was up, taking shifts too, despite needing to go to work the next morning.  I appreciated him, but I also fought with him under the pressure.  My shifts often ended with me having a panic attack and Jeff taking over earlier than expected.  I couldn’t stay calm with the low sleep and Luke’s inexplicably intense cries.  Then, I felt guilty because Jeff had to make up for my weakness.   It was a very dark time.

 When Luke was five months old, he was still waking up crying about six times a night. Jeff and I got advice, read things, tried things, and finally just resigned ourselves to being up with a crying baby multiple times every night.   I didn’t like talking with other mothers about it anymore.  Jeff told me that he had stopped praying for Luke to sleep better.  He was praying that we would learn whatever God had for us through this situation.  You’d think I’d look lovingly at my hubs and appreciate his faith, but I totally lost it.  I got mad.  “I don’t want your prayer,” I told him, “I want sleep.”

In the end, I got sleep and I got the answer to Jeff’s prayer.  My friend, Laura, is a mother of five.  She told me that those middle of the night times were her battle hours.  That’s when she prayed and did spiritual warfare on behalf of her family.  When Laura told me that, I thought, ‘Well, you’re stronger than I am.  Good for you.’  But, that night, when I started praying for Luke to sleep well, God helped me take a step of surrender.  A step of transformation.  I prayed, “God, please give me grace to handle whatever happens tonight.”  It was another crappy night. 

During this time, my cousin texted and asked for my prayer request.  Back then, he was struggling with his relationship with God and decided to be more active in prayer.  I texted back about our sleep situation.  I said, “Why do I even pray when every night is a total crapshoot?”  He didn’t have any answers, but he prayed.  That night, Luke slept six hours straight.  A new record for Luke, a boost of faith for my cousin, and a taste of restoration for me and Jeff.

Another night, I was up with Luke and God reminded me of Laura’s battle stories.  I felt too tired and too out-of-faith to pray for Luke to calm down, but I decided I could sing.  Over the top of Luke’s cries, not caring if I woke Jeff up (sorry, Love!), I sang, “In heavenly armor we’ll enter the land; the battle belongs to the Lord!  No weapon that’s fashioned against us will stand; the battle belongs to the Lord!  And we sing, glory, honor, power and strength to the Lord!”  When that song was over, I sang another.  And another.  Luke cried and my faith and peace increased.  My situation didn’t change, but my heart did.  It was a battleground of transformation.  Eventually, he went back to sleep.  Energized, I didn’t go straight back to bed, but walked the hallway a little more and prayed for our family.  I got to sleep a little bit, and Luke still woke up later.  It was a kick in the behind.  I wanted the rest of the night to be easier because I had done the right thing, the holy thing, you know?  It didn’t work that way.  I was mad again.

I never found a formula.  This is not an A+B=C, tidy kind of story.  I didn’t become a nighttime Mary Poppins who sings the kids to sleep while she sews.  Luke does sleep through the night now and I even eat breakfast and get dressed before he gets up most days.  It’s amazing.  But, I still hate getting up in the middle of the night when there’s an issue.  I deal with fears of having another baby and being in that intense season again.   The difference is, my heart is open to what God wants to give in those places.  I’m willing to trust that He is good, even if everything stays the same as I see it.  I’m willing to praise Him when it’s not going my way.  That's a big deal!  It wouldn’t have happened without months of low-sleep nights.  I’m grateful for the transforming fire of motherhood.

It Wouldn’t Sound the Same Without You

One weekend, a year or so ago, I was visiting my parents and attended church with them on Sunday morning.  My mom is in the choir so I made faces at her when they stood to sing the offertory song.  Scanning the rest of the singers, one stuck out.  A little girl, maybe nine years old, was up there with all the adults.  I assume she was next to her mom.  This little girl with long, dark hair and a sparkly headband held a black binder of sheet music as she sang, just like everyone else.

My first thought was, “Does it even matter that she’s up there?  I’m guessing her voice isn’t strong enough to be missed if she wasn’t singing.”

God spoke up quickly, “I hear her.  I’d notice if her voice was gone.”  

I was flooded with the sense of God’s delight in this dear choir member.  He was thoroughly enjoying her one and only, made by Him, made for Him voice. 

This morning, I was at Bible study and they played a video of the Hallelujah Chorus for us to enjoy and sing.  I tiptoed out for a bathroom break.  It’s a pretty long song, so it was still going when I got back.  It’s one of those massive choir pieces that I don’t exactly know how to sing.  As I stood there, amidst women worshiping God, I remembered the little girl in my parents’ church choir.  Even with my awkward, not-sure-how-to-join-this-one attitude, I knew that God would hear me when I gave it a try.  I sang.  Choppy and quiet, but with a heart that wanted to join not just my Bible study ladies, but the chorus of saints praising God eternally.

“And He shall reign for ever and ever…..”

I know God heard my voice. 

“King of kings…forever!  And ever!”

I know the Holy Spirit in me communicated with the throne room of heaven.

“And Lord of lords…Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!”

Not because I need the attention from God, but because He deserves the attention – the worship – from me.  Loud or soft, on key or off key, getting the words right or stumbling.  What matters is that we join in with hearts of love for our Savior.  It wouldn’t sound the same to Him if one voice wasn’t there.  

Now That I'm There

 This year, we drove to Spokane for Thanksgiving to be with Jeff’s extended family.  Jeff got off work a little early on Wednesday, and we drove over that night.  About halfway there, we stopped at a gas station so Jeff could get in the back seat with Luke while I drove the rest of the way.  This may not seem interesting or significant, but it is.  A couple of years ago, before I was married or had a baby, I made a declaration in my mind: "I’m never going to have someone ride in the back with my baby.  My baby will learn to entertain himself and be content in the car."

One of my closest friends was a new mom at the time of this declaration.  She or her husband often needed to sit in the back to keep their daughter from crying on long car trips.  Even though I didn’t vocalize my judgment, I wish a thousand times that I could take it back.  I had no idea.  I couldn’t know, really, until I’d experienced the shrieks of my own child.  You think he’ll eventually settle down, but dang, babies have endurance with crying.  You break and suddenly, you’ll do anything to make it stop.  Anything!  Like, have one of you sit in the back and feed him applesauce.
 

Now that I’m there, now that I have a baby too, I daily want to revoke judgments I’ve made towards other parents.  I’m sure I judged parents for things that were actually a victory.  Like messy houses, for example.  Now that I’m there, I know that when my house is a total wreck, it means I chose to be present with Luke and play with him, rather than ignoring him to do dishes.

I say that I’m there, that I’m a parent, so I understand now.  But, I’m not you.  I’m not your child’s parent.  I have better perspective because I’m a parent too (ie: there’s a baby pee stain on my jeans today.  No joke.), but there’s still no basis for judgment.  I know if I understood you better, I’d regret judging you.

I have a joke with God when I find myself making mental comments about others.  I tell Him, “That’s my new best friend, isn’t it?”  He has a way of helping me get to know the people I judge.  One time, I was in an airport security line in Amsterdam.  A girl a few people ahead of me was dressed like she was going clubbing.  Skin tight pants, a strapless crop top, hoop earrings that grazed her shoulders, and three inch heels.  We were boarding a nine hour flight.  I was basically wearing pajamas.  As I judged her highly uncomfortable, impractical wardrobe choices, I stopped and chuckled.  “That’s my new best friend, right, God?”  Yep.  We were seat mates.  Nine hours later, I was blown away by this young woman’s strength and bravery.  She’d never been on a plane before that day; had never left her home in the Ukraine.  At eighteen years old, she was moving to Canada to go to college.  She was taking big steps of faith.  Who the heck cares what she was wearing as she went?  Now that I know her a little better, I’m in a place where the things I judged don’t matter.

This morning, my Bible study was about John 8.  I was supposed to list Jesus’ character traits in the story of a woman caught in adultery. 

John 8:1-11New Living Translation (NLT)

A Woman Caught in Adultery

8 Jesus returned to the Mount of Olives, ² but early the next morning he was back again at the Temple. A crowd soon gathered, and he sat down and taught them. ³ As he was speaking, the teachers of religious law and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in the act of adultery. They put her in front of the crowd.

⁴ “Teacher,” they said to Jesus, “this woman was caught in the act of adultery. ⁵ The law of Moses says to stone her. What do you say?”

⁶ They were trying to trap him into saying something they could use against him, but Jesus stooped down and wrote in the dust with his finger. ⁷ They kept demanding an answer, so he stood up again and said,“All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!”⁸ Then he stooped down again and wrote in the dust.

⁹ When the accusers heard this, they slipped away one by one, beginning with the oldest, until only Jesus was left in the middle of the crowd with the woman. ¹⁰ Then Jesus stood up again and said to the woman,“Where are your accusers? Didn’t even one of them condemn you?”

¹¹ “No, Lord,” she said.

And Jesus said, “Neither do I. Go and sin no more.”

Calm.  Kind.  Wise.  Challenging.  Gracious.  That’s what I see in Jesus. 

The world is filled with people who are different from me.  Close friends and family, even.  I’m so tempted to make judgments – based on a perceived sin, or simply just a different way of thinking.  “If I was them, I would…”  or “I’d never…”  Really?  Is that really true?  I don’t know them deeply enough.  I don’t really understand why they think that way or why that decision is a victory for them when all I see is a messy house (so to speak). 

After the election, I caught up on the phone with the friend from the start of this story.  I knew we had different views about a lot of things, so the conversation initially felt risky.  What if we can’t stay friends because of our views?  What if we hurt each other because we don’t understand the same way?  We talked, we listened, and the conversation felt… calm.  Kind.  Wise.  Challenging.  Gracious.

Where are your accusers?  Where are the people who condemn you?

They’re sitting in the back seat with their baby, understanding you a little better.