Slow Down

“When your world moves too fast

and you lose yourself in the chaos,

introduce yourself

to each color of the sunset.

Reacquaint yourself with the earth

beneath your feet.

Thank the air that surrounds you

with every breath you take.

Find yourself in the appreciation of life.”

                             -Christy Ann Martine

Every Tuesday, I attend a group called Mom2Mom.  We watch a video on mothering and then break into small groups to discuss the material with mentor moms.  I love the group and have built friendships that are deeply supportive.  A couple of weeks ago, the video came on and the speaker said something to the effect of, “Have you ever felt like all you ever wanted was to be a mom, but now that you’re there, there are some days when you hate your life?”  My throat clenched up and tears sprung to my eyes.  I clasped my hands together under the table and thought, ‘Don’t cry right now.  Don’t cry.  Just listen.’

It’s probably not a coincidence that God brought up the very thing with which I’ve been struggling.  The ideas shared in the lesson were valuable, but more than that, I felt understood.  Surely if this video speaker made it her topic, many other moms have also struggled with this at some point.

This Friday is our fifth wedding anniversary.  In those five years, I moved to a new town, got a new job, got married, stopped working, and had two little boys.  It’s everything I ever prayed for AND it’s been a lot.  I’m grateful beyond words AND there are days when I feel completely overwhelmed.

God is really helping me and I want to give Him praise by sharing how.  He gave me two powerful words:

Slow down.

In the past two weeks, I have meditated on those words again and again.  I’m blown away by how God is using that message to breathe life into my mothering days.  The grace of it all is, I haven’t been working on yelling less or not being stressed out.  As I slow down, situation by situation, I’m finding I don’t need to flip out.  The kids who are still my loud, active, mess-creators are turning out to be the very sources of my long-lost joy. 

Here are three specific little story-examples:

*I need to prep dinner.  If I focus, I can crank it out in 20 minutes.  Big brother pulls up his stool to help.  Little brother is close behind with his own stool.  Not what I’d planned. 

Slow down...

 

I have them wash their hands.  The boys take turns picking basil off our little windowsill plant to make pesto.  They laugh while whacking the chicken with a tenderizing mallet.  Little brother loses interest and wanders off; big brother stays and finishes making the whole meal with me.  We bond as we work and later, he’s proud instead of picky when dinner is served.

*I’m settled on my bed, reading during the boys’ nap time.  All is quiet.  My favorite.  Big brother does not rest very long and wakes up crabby and crying.  I’m frustrated that my quiet time is gone.

Slow down...

I invite him to lie on the bed next to me.  I tell him I’m still resting and reading.  He’s welcome to lie quietly or go downstairs and play by himself.  He wants to be close, so he snuggles against me and soon falls asleep.  I end up putting my book down to just look at him.  As he gets older, it’s rare to be near him while he sleeps.  I notice his rosy cheeks, his masculine brow like his daddy’s, his small hand on my arm, the faint smell of his shampoo.  I’m overcome with gratitude and tell God how I feel.  I’m refreshed.

*My back is bothering me lately and I can’t carry Little brother like I used to.  We are usually running late and then have to walk at a one and a half year old’s pace. 

Slow down...

We talk about the trees changing colors.  Big brother pauses to ask a homeless man a couple of questions about the man’s truck.  We arrive late, but happy, having savored the beautiful fall day.

Mothering is still a big, never-ending, overwhelming job.  As I slow down, God is giving me the amazing gift of loving this life.  He gives good gifts and He is teaching me how to enjoy all He’s given.

Losing Sleep For Babies

One of my best friends has a brand new baby boy.  Today, I got to hear his tiny newborn cry as we spoke on the phone.  I have a one year old and I already need reminders of how it is at the start.   It’s been a while since I was getting up every two or three hours like my friend is, to feed her little son.  I’ve always hated that part of having a newborn; the surrendered sleep.  It was always a huge feat of will to get up from a dead sleep and sit in a chair nursing at 2am…then  4:30am…  But, I did it.  And of course, the reasons for losing sleep far outweighed a choice to keep sleeping.  My babies couldn’t feed themselves or care for their illnesses.  Their vulnerability was in my hands.  That’s God’s good design for parents.  Not super easy, but definitely super good.

Tonight, I am staying up to advocate for other vulnerable babies.  I am overcome with grief over the heightened debate on abortion.  No matter how I try to understand, I cannot see the issue as anything other than taking the lives of unborn children who cannot speak for themselves.  When I heard my own babies crying, I could choose to go back to sleep and ignore their needs or I could choose to get up and care for them.  Tonight, I am praying for and writing for babies I can’t see or name, but whose lives and needs matter greatly to me.    

Proverbs 31:8 (NKJV)  Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die.

 Psalm 10:17 & 18  (CEB)  Lord, you listen to the desires of those who suffer.  You steady their hearts; you listen closely to them, to establish justice for the orphan and the oppressed, so that the people of the land will never again be terrified.

To all unborn children:

                You are loved.  You are wanted.  Your life has a powerful plan and purpose because God is your first and foremost Creator.  I bless your every cell, every heartbeat, every thought, every movement and I celebrate your amazing life.

To the child I hope to adopt someday:

                I have been praying for you even since I was single with no kids.   I pray for your biological mom and dad too.  They are special to me because, no matter what the circumstances, they made my son or daughter.  I’m grateful for that and pray so much peace, joy, and healing over all aspects of this.

To women, mothers, men, fathers:

                You are loved.  Your body and your lives are precious.  I serve a God who works all things for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).  God sees you and has way more power than we give Him credit for.  There is life in Him for everyone involved in this scenario.  I don’t know the answers for your specific questions, but I know a God who does.  Let’s let Him be in charge of life.

I have two friends who, in prenatal appointments, discovered significant health issues in their babies and were counseled to terminate their pregnancies.  Both mothers were faced with a real life choice about how to walk out their beliefs.  They chose life and I respect the heck out of them.  I cannot even imagine that journey and all that was involved.  One had to say goodbye to her daughter shortly after her birth.  The other got to raise her son until he went to be with Jesus at age 11.  I don’t believe either regrets their decision to ignore the doctor’s suggestion, despite the hardships and heart pain they endured. 

Caring for and about babies involves a lot of sacrifice.  More than the few hours of sleep I’m losing tonight by writing, I fear the potential relationships lost because I’m speaking up about something controversial.  I know and love many who see this issue differently than I do.  I wrote this because I needed to speak.  With that, I am also ready to listen.   I would rather look at your face and listen to your heart on this matter than read a comment, for or against.  Thank you for reading these words of mine.

Welcome Back

 ²⁰ And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. ²¹ And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’^[b]22 But the father said to his servants,^[c] ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. ²³ And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. ²⁴ For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.  Luke 15:20-24

In the story of the prodigal son, I’m always touched by the father’s reaction to his son’s return.  While the son was still a long way off, his father saw him, felt compassion, and ran to him.  Not waved at him, not beckoned to him, not even walked to him - - the father ran.  I love that.  I love the passion and I love how the father’s reaction is based on who the son is; not what’s he’s done or not done.  

Lately, my three year old son and I have been experiencing multiple homecomings every day.  I’ve been seeing a counselor to help me with some anger struggles as a mother.   She encouraged me to consider the difference between misbehavior and big feelings.  When I see my son overwhelmed by big feelings, instead of a consequence, I’ve been having him take his special blanket to a “calm down spot” and he can come back to play when he’s peaceful again.  When Luke returns from his break, I always open my arms, smile, and say, “Welcome back!”

Luke isn’t the only one who benefits from a calm down spot.   I need it too.  When I my anger bubbles up and I’m starting to cope with yelling or controlling, I’m challenging myself to step away for a moment and regain my peace.  I usually just go in the bathroom with the door closed and take some deep breaths.  When I come out, guess what Luke does and says?  Yep – he opens his arms wide, smiles at me, and says, “Welcome back!”

This is such a beautiful picture of the grace and love God has for us as His sons and daughters.  When we sin, or do anything that puts a barrier in our relationship with him, He welcomes us back.  Every time.  There is love and relationship waiting for us, no matter how many times a day we turn away and turn back again.  In fact, the Bible says God was with us all along (Hebrews 13:5).  Maybe, in the spirit of the prodigal’s father,  Luke and I should run to the person coming back from their break.  Makes me smile just thinking about it. 

Welcome back.

Top photo credit:  Jessica Witters Photography

Womb Time and Word Time

Happy Valentine’s Day  

Up until last year, this holiday held a mostly neutral place in my heart.  But one year ago, Valentine’s Day changed forever.  Now, I absolutely love Valentine’s Day.  It turned out to be the day I got to meet my Micah. 

I still say that a due date is just a good guess, so he wasn’t truly late, but Micah did come two weeks past his expected day.  When they heard my early February due date, some people would comment, “Oh!  Maybe you’ll have a Valentine’s baby!”  Here’s a note for future reference:  never cheerfully tell a pregnant woman that maybe she’ll add two weeks to a very physically uncomfortable time in her life.  I’d try to smile politely and change the subject.

In the end, those well meaning Valentine birthday wishers guessed correctly.  Micah was born on February 14^th a little before sunrise, at home, with the help of Jeff and two midwives.  He was even born en caul, with his amniotic sac intact – a pretty rare and special occurrence.

Two weeks late is a far cry from what mothers of preemies go through.  Rather than watching their due date come and go while their belly expands and stretches, preemie moms get surprised with an early birthday.  My cousin had her little girl at 29 weeks (I need to fact check and edit this post if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that’s the number).  She’s now a tall, athletic eleven year old.  I remember thinking with both pregnancies, “I made it to 29 weeks.”  It was my pregnant brain’s excuse to breathe easier.  Emma turned out great, so my baby would probably have a good chance if he came at that point too. 

Right around that time of pregnancy, I also heard that one day in the womb saves three days in the NICU.  That’s why doctors work so hard to keep the baby from coming too early.  The womb is a powerful place.  It may seem strange that I’m writing so much about these preemie thoughts when I had a very non-preemie baby.  There’s a reason.  Stick with me!

I’ve dealt with some depression this past year.  I’m starting to come out of it one step at a time.  One thing that helps is to spend time with God in the morning.  Unfortunately, feeling depressed is not super conducive to getting up early.  Add to this that my three year old has started losing his affinity for sleep.  He recently told me he hates his bed and wants to throw it away (then he conked out on it for two hours – toddlers say and do funny things).  So, this morning, I woke up at 5:30 and felt God’s nudge to spend time with Him.  I was barely downstairs when Luke shuffled out of bed asking for breakfast.  What the heck?  How is it, on the one day I actually get up to do something positive that he wakes up an hour earlier than usual?!  I was so very mad.  After putting him back in bed with a star light timer set to turn off in one more hour (thanks Aunt Nicole and Uncle Brent!), I settled on the couch with my Bible.  I had to put ear phones in to muffle Luke’s whining upstairs.  I was still mad.

Then God reminded me of that NICU / womb time fact.  Brooke, every minute you spend in my Word has infinitely more power than a minute spent doing anything else.  Don’t think that because this time is interrupted that it holds no strength.  Spend even thirty seconds focused on Me and you will be filled with My power.

Jeff ended up soothing Luke with a book, so I got a whole hour of Bible time.  But, I thought about it differently than when I started.  Those were sixty minutes of “womb time”, of concentrated life given to me.  I was grateful for the gift of that time in a new way.

Every day in the womb is precious. 

So precious.  It’s a very powerful place.

Every moment spent with God and His Word is powerful.  It’s supernaturally different than other minutes you may spend.

So, Happy Valentine’s Day,

Happy Micah Day,

Happy Day of God’s Strength and Love Available to You. 

black and white photo credit

Change Is Coming Like Melting Snow

Every moment the patches of green grew bigger and the patches of snow grew smaller. Every moment more and more of the trees shook off their robes of snow. Soon, wherever you looked, instead of white shapes you saw the dark green of firs or the black prickly branches of bare oaks and beeches and elms. Then the mist turned from white to gold and presently cleared away altogether. Shafts of delicious sunlight struck down onto the forest floor and overhead you could see a blue sky between the tree-tops.  

– The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

As I drove home from the grocery store today, rain spattered the fog-framed windshield.  Remnants of snow on neighborhood lawns melded with puddles forming along the curb.  My mind wandered to the scene in CS Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe where the forever winter is beginning to surrender to spring.  Narnia was locked into winter for years and years.  What would it have been like to see the color green peek through the snow again?  What would it have been like to hear running water?  What would it have felt like to have warm sun rays on your skin?  For some, it was a hope fulfilled.  For others, maybe they’d given up hope long ago and reconciled themselves to a life of winter.

Winter has settled into parts of my life in a Narnia way.  There are struggles that are so much a part of me that I wouldn’t know myself without them.  I wish I could be transformed in a moment; that God would simply remove all my addictions and failings.  I believe He can and sometimes does work that way.  Sometimes though, He brings new growth like melting snow. 

It was significant that I thought of this Narnia scene as I was coming from the grocery store.  I have a problem with using sugar to get through my day.  Entrenched in years of habitual comfort eating, I hold to a spark of hope and keep getting up when I fall.  Today, I realized that spring is coming to this area of my life.  I walked past the chocolate chips in the store probably three times.  I told myself if they were on sale, I’d get them.  I told myself they were for my son Luke.  I told myself I’d only eat a few each day.  And, in the end, I walked out of the store without them.  That’s a patch of green grass.  That’s a little warm sun allowing me to breathe more deeply.  Total freedom isn’t here yet, but it is coming.

Instead of thinking things will never change, I’m going to watch for buds on the trees.  Those buds will eventually turn into flowers.  These places in my life, frozen and bleak, are under the power of God – my Aslan king.  In fact, the Bible has song about this very thing.  

Song of Songs 2:11-13 New International Version (NIV)

11 See! The winter is past;
    the rains are over and gone.
12 Flowers appear on the earth;
    the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
    is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree forms its early fruit;
    the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
    my beautiful one, come with me.”

I'm going to be okay with things changing slowly.  The process is beautiful and delightful in its own way.  Today, I'm resting in God's timing and watching for little signs that my winter spots are surrendering to His spring.

photo credit

photo credit

photo credit

Why I’m Not Decluttering Anything This Month

“The things that I thought would break me were the things that drove me straight to Him.” – Katie Davis Majors,  Daring To Hope

January is a big month for fresh starts and new plans.  There is a lot of motivation to do something.  After some soul-searching between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, I realized my greatest challenge would be to not  do something.  I’m getting off the minimalism/decluttering train….at least for a little bit.

I have a love-hate relationship with the Bible story of Mary and Martha.  Mary is the sister who sits and listens to Jesus when He visits, and Martha is the one in the kitchen getting work done.  Jesus encourages Martha to choose what’s better – Mary’s choice.  “Only one thing is needed,” He tells her.

It’s not a great idea to disagree with Jesus, but I always push back on this story.  Yes, time with our Savior is the best thing a person could do.  For sure.  But, wasn’t Martha serving Him with her hospitality?  The daily work of maintaining a home and caring for our families doesn’t go away if we leave it alone.  Martha should get some credit for working hard. 

one of my "after" photos

I struggle with the story because I’m Martha.  I have a very hard time being present with God and my family because my lists are shouting at me.  I watch YouTube videos on how to declutter and deep clean.  I have my daily to dos, a cleaning chart and a list of places in the house that need to be minimalized.  I share before and after photos with a friend so we can encourage each other to tackle messes.  Now that I have children, Christmas and birthdays make my heart race with anxiety.  Celebrations just mean an influx of toys, clothes, and packaging to process and store somewhere.

My stress over “stuff” extends beyond my own home.  My family tells a story of when I was in my early teens and I cried because my dad was dumpster diving at the neighbor’s house.  They were moving and throwing away perfectly good things that my dad wanted to salvage.  I didn’t want any more stuff at our house.  Now, as an adult, I still wrongly try to control my parents’ stuff.  I obsessively worry about the day when I may have to clean out their house or my mother-in-law’s house. 

On Christmas Eve this year, my best friend gently and firmly told me to let go.  The stuff doesn’t matter.  Relationships matter.  I told her I knew she was right, but I didn’t know how to do it.

Then I finished Katie Davis Majors’ book, Daring to Hope.  In her last few lines, she says, “The things that I thought would break me were the things that drove me straight to Him.”  What would break me? I thought.  I made a list.  NOT decluttering was at the top.  This may seem crazy to people who need more organization in their life, but I also believe there’s someone out there who can identify with me!

So, for forty days, I’m committed to letting things sit.  I still clean the house a little each day and keep up on the laundry.  But no minimalism videos, no giveaway piles, and no dumping out drawers to see how much I can throw out.  What am I doing with the time?  I’m playing with my kids.  I’m getting on the floor and wrestling with them.  I’m making truck noises and driving toy cars over mountains made of blankets.  I’m getting out art supplies and letting messes happen.  This is the stuff I’ve been missing out on because I’ve been organizing and hoping they’d play independently. 

The point is not that I can’t have a simple, clean house.  I just need to put decluttering back in its rightful place – below time with God and time with family.  I think leaving the clutter alone for a time and paying attention to my boys is a form of sitting at Jesus’ feet.  When life feels out of control, I’m going to have to go to Him for peace, not to organizing.  And, who knows?  Perhaps this may not break me after all.

photo credit
photo credit