The Dining Room Table

Boys are growing into men here in our home, and knees are knocking together under our little kitchen table.  Feet find their way onto feet, and elbows can't leave well enough alone, so we're moving.  Not from our home, but out of our little kitchen nook and into the spacious dining room.  The boys have been asking me to serve dinner at our long oak table, with the chandelier like a canopy of sparkle overhead.  But I've balked these last few months, knowing it will add more work to my load.  I balked and I crammed and I nagged my way through dinners, ordering, "Stop touching one another, and keep your legs under your chair."  

Then last night we visited a friend's home, and sat down at their new dinner table.  Brand-spankin', never before used, without one scrape or stain. Long planks of untreated wood set with burlap place-mats and mason jars for water glasses.  Miniature pumpkins toppled from ceremic decorative urns as our centerpiece.  How special to be there with our beloved friends, christening their table with our conversation and laughter.  As my dear friend's husband jokingly threatened to never have guests over again if we splatter salad dressing, I thought of the generous love required when giving our best.  But we do give our best away to those we prize.  China and chocolates and the dining room table, to those we cherish, value and esteem.

And I looked at my children, who are my best, recognizing immediately the way I hold them at arm's length from the center of my hospitable heart.  Not always, but when it requires greater effort on a day-in-day-out basis, I'm quick to say, "No, and keep your hands to yourself."

But today I'm doing something new - I'm spreading out our holiday favorites on the table cloth of my generous heart.  I'm throwing a christening party on a Tuesday night!  Not because we're hosting special guests, but because I'm purposing to start treating my most intimate family members like the guests of honor that they are.  Prized in my heart, prized around my table.  Sure there will be more sweeping up rice and polishing off handprints, but we do that for those we love.  It's part of the gift giving.

Laying out placemats that smell of cedar and cloth napkins will require another load of wash and a hot iron in the morning, but I'm throwing this mid-week celebration, with homework for dessert, just because its time to invite my children to the grown up table.  So I'm heading out to the garden now to gather the last glory-blooms of fall, every single stem, for tomorrow I'll be pruning rose bushes and hydrangeas all the way down. There's no temptation to skimp, when pruning is just around the bend.  I'll give them all as a laid down offering on the dining room table, because I want to do the learning without the painful pruning in my own life.

This Lesson:

 It is time to treat my children as the most valued guests in our home

- guests that do the dishes, but guests just the same.

They are our little people for such a short time.  And we are honored to have their little britches seated round our table for these limited number of years.  And when we send them off, we want to send them off with memories of family dinners, chocolatey desserts, good conversation, and enough elbow room.

Join me at my party... though you'll be loving your family from your dining room table, as I do well loving my family from mine.  But join me, won't you?  Won't you?  Though we grow weary from this continual feast... let's commit to party on!

A Mom's Self-Love

He's been sick on and off, mostly on, for nearly a month.  Four trips to Urgent care, one to the ER, another trip downtown to see a specialist and nearly as far each time we go to his primary care physician.  He prays and holds me tight when shots are coming down the sterile hall and into his hospital room, and I'm blown away by my love for this child, and the goodness of a very near God.  

Then suddenly he seems better, strong and sure and all caught up with his school work.  So I tuck him into his bed at home, with plans that he'll be back at school "tomorrow".  I walk out of his room doing a happy little dance, because I know that his older brother, the one I homeschool, has a special class day that next day too, so I will be all alone in my empty home.

All.  Alone.  In.  My.  Empty.  Home.

Visions of myself resting, reading, and writing fill my heart and mind, so I dance again from the sheer pleasure of my dream.  My husband walks in then and laughs.  I tell him of my joy and he smiles, because he's starting to see (nearly 11 years into this parenting gig) that I need quiet spaces to rest my soul so I don't go crazy.  And since he's a fan of my sanity he nods deeply.

He encourages me to go to sleep early, rather than working on that writing project with a deadline fast approaching.  "Tomorrow you will have all day to write," he reminds me with a kiss.

Tomorrow I will write!

Except the child wakes up sick again... and I feel angry.

What a sad confession!

These words are just black lines and swirls on a white page, but they make me moan because they're true.  And maybe they're true for each weary mom who has her plans thwarted on a daily basis; with kids just being energetic kids, families just being busy families, twins just being a double portion of childhood all at once, and husbands just being hard-working husbands.  We try to claim moments for our self-care, only to have them snatched up by the ones we love most.

It's clear to see it as it really is, when it's written out neatly in rows.  But in real-time our frustration over letting-go feels more like anger.

You see, my heart's explosion had very little to do with my sick kid, and so much more to do with my self-love.  I know it's true because the same beast rears up when all three of my children are well and life is going along without hiccups.  Everyone is happy and healthy and our schedule makes sense, miraculously.  But I set a plan for myself, as simple as an afternoon at home with the family, only to get a call from my husband who says he's made plans with friends.  And after church there's a women's ministry program I'd planned on attending, but my children were up too late and now they're one big riled-up basket of nerves in need of a soothing mom at home.  But I didn't want to be that soothing Mama at home this afternoon... I wanted to be at church, soothing my own self.

Here's the point, Moms - We matter!  And we need to dream and schedule in our health and our rest and our peaceful pockets of time to enjoy good friendship.  But we must, must, must love ourselves with an elastic love - Love that gives way to the needs of others.

Oh, pin that, my friends!  Pin it on your heart and your facebook page.  Print it up and frame it over your bathtub, because sometimes we need Calgon to take us away, and repair what's been torn down by the daily wear and tear of our blessed lives.  However, if a sick kid, a neighbor in need, or a husband who's missed his business flight home gets in your tender-lovin' way, yield.  Turn off the faucet that's throwing out hot water and soothing steam, and yield.

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." John 13: 34-35

My favorite sounds

My Favorite Sounds

It's a typical fall day here in Southern California, as day lilies and roses continue to bloom. Temperatures are in the mid-eighties and our windows are open wide because there's a breeze blowing in off the ocean.

Eucalyptus leaves are clapping together, making a melody like they are God's own wind-chimes.

I hear them from every room in the house.

And the children are laughing.

Drinking sodas poolside and pulling funny faces.  Then darting inside from one bedroom or another, trading stickers and setting up Lego battles.  I imagine this sound must be top of every mother's list, the peaceful happy sounds of play.

And yet, conversely, I love the sound of babies crying.

There's something so pure and simple about a newborn's cries.  It's a cry for milk, for comfort, or for rest.  I know that cry in my own heart, and I get caught up in the complexity of my needs; then a woman passes by with her wailing one, and it all seems so simple again.

Milk - Comfort - Rest

So I turn the pages of my small leather bound Bible, because milk, comfort, and rest are waiting for me there.

And the rustling of Bible pages sings out like a familiar hymn.

When an entire room full of women turn in their Bibles to a specific passage, it sounds, I imagine, like the wings of angels rushing by.  But even one person, leafing through one Bible, is a song worth singing.

And so I turn each thin page carefully as my husband starts to strum his guitar and sing.

My husband's sweet and tender tenor voice is another one of my favorite sounds.

Though he doesn't sing often, when he does my knees go weak.

Then comes the quiet at the end of each day, when laughter and cries and rustling leaves, page turning and hymn singing all still.  And that is the most glorious noise of all.  Like a bath of stillness at the end of each blessed day.

What are some of your favorite sounds?

My favorite Bibles - Part 1 - Children's Bibles

Favorite Bibles.

Each one in our collection has a story.  The white leather-bound Precious Moments Bible, packed away with my little girl memories.  The big red Life Application Bible my Dad bought me to replace said Precious Moments Bible before I left for College.  I didn't see the problem with continuing on as I was, but he said I'd want something a little more mature once I got to College.  As it turns out, he was right.   But I also wanted something smaller, because the study Bible was MASSIVE.

Freshman year I started attending some Campus Crusade for Christ meetings all over Boston, and my enormous study Bible weighed a ton. Over and over again I kept hearing one main theme:   That Christians should ask The Lord specifically for things.  I'd never heard this before, so I was cautious.  I decided to try it and humbly asked, "God, I need a smaller Bible to keep in my purse, one that's not so heavy.  You know I don't have the money to buy another Bible, so would you give me one?"  I thought it was a good first request; I mean if you're going to throw a fleece out and ask the Lord to answer, you might as well ask for something like a Bible.

Wouldn't you know, the next day I stopped by the school mail room and there in my mail slot was a package.  A little package.  And in it was a little Bible.  Sent from Uncle Bob who said he'd found a stack of "these things" hidden away in one of his drawers and thought I might like one, away at school.

A decade later I chronicled my dates with a man named Matt on the inside cover of this small brown, leather-bound gift.  And a few short months later we were married.  I still carry this Bible, though it's falling apart at the binding.

Another decade has passed now;

we've added three little people to our family

and twice as many bibles to our "Collection."

And so today I share my Two Favorite Children's Bibles:

1) The Jesus Storybook Bible: Every Story Whispers His Name  - The theme of Jesus being our rescuer pierces, underpins, transcends, and utterly steals the show in each short story.  The pictures are delightful too.  But more than just another collection of Bible Stories, this one is special.  No matter if the story is from the Old Testament or the New, each one points to Jesus.  Our Savior.  And He is so real and approachable on each page that I often tear up while reading to my children at our kitchen table.

The Action Bible

2) The Action Bible - This is the Bible my first-born has read numerous times from cover to cover over the last few years.  He reads it on his own at night, on his own early in the morning, on his own, poolside, in the middle of the day.  Full of  adventure and intrigue and... ACTION, and told in comic book fashion with dialogue captured in bubbles.  With exciting, bold illustrations, The Action Bible manages to stay true from Genesis to Revelation, giving children a cohesive journey through God's story from beginning to end.

Join me tomorrow for my most favorite Bible yet... the one that hasn't yet been written.

10 Things we can do to make our mornings easier

I recently wrote a post entitled, Grace-filled mornings, but it was actually more about hurried school mornings and the tendency to nag our way through all the sacred rituals at the start of each new day.  I heard back from some of you that I'm not alone in my angst; that you're with me in wanting more of Grace and less Law.  

The trouble is, I don't have a formula that's will work for every woman.  There's no one way to guide us through the practical aspects of our bed-making, teeth-brushing, lunch-box-grabbing, shoe-tying mornings.  So having a plan of action is key for every mom herding children out the door. Let's make a plan and teach our children how to be self-disciplined so that we're not tempted to discipline them every rushed morning. Discipline strangles grace when we're in a rush.  Therefore let's slow down, make a plan, and communicate it clearly with our kiddos.

Slowing down our morning ritual to make space for Grace. Because Grace needs room to breath and spread out and into hearts, and our hustle bustle pace makes her dizzy.

[Tweet "Slow down your morning ritual to make space for grace."]

Here are 10 things we can do with our children to make our mornings easier.

I'm learning to do much of this the night before another hurried, off-to-school morning.  Getting some of the logistics out of the way so I can smile instead of scold, and help instead of harp.  I realize I'm most impatient with my children when I'm overwhelmed with my own last minute rush. It's then that I grab and pull and push with words and hands and dishes, rather than encourage and help as we move out the door, hand in hand with Grace.

Here are the kids responsibilities:

Lay out clothes on the end of their bed.  Since two of my three wear school uniforms, this is paramount.  A scramble through a dirty pile of navy blue polos is no way to start the day with a song.  Our kids can absolutely be in charge of this task.  And if we find that something hasn't been cleaned, there's still time to do a stress-free load of wash before bed.

School bags packed and set beside shoes. At night I remind my children to get their things packed up and laid beside their shoes at the door. This is crucial if we want to be ready in the morning. Once again, this is the time for training. Our kiddos need to learn to be responsible for their things, but don't you agree it's much more comfortable to check on their school preparations at night, rather than point out all their flaws in the morning?  One smacks of help and the other criticism.

Breakfast table cleaned off and place-mats set. My oldest has kitchen duty in the evenings and this includes cleaning the table and sweeping up all the conveniently dropped pieces of broccoli on the floor.  He also lays fresh place-mats and napkins, so I'm not all jumbled bringing breakfast to a discombobulated table.  How that stresses my discombobulated heart!  And when I'm stressed... there's not much room for Grace.

In all the above points, there's much training to be done.  I'm definitely not suggesting we forego training and replace it with permissive laziness, we're just purposing a better time to do it.  A proactive parenting strategy. We can do this... and they can too! But expecting them to get it all done in the limited time we have each morning is simply an invitation for more angst!

Now here are Mom's responsibilities:

Breakfast. Muffins pre-made.  It's Sunday night as I am typing this out, and I have a dozen banana muffins prepped for the week, along with a batch of pancakes.  I tripled my recipe this weekend and set aside two mornings worth in the fridge for the weekdays ahead.   Scrambled eggs, cereal, and french toast are other easy staples.  Having a plan is key.  Here's our favorite gluten-free chocolate zucchini muffin recipe.

Lunches prepped.  Some of this can certainly be done the night ahead.  And many women include their children in this step too, but I choose not to.  I usually do this late at night and then shuffle to my bedroom, knowing my husband needs a little bit of my night too.  And then there's sleep.  Sweet blessed sleep.

Sleep.  A good night's sleep is an open invitation for Grace to visit in the morning.  When I've pushed the midnight oil a bit too indulgently, everyone pays the next day.  I know this is hard for you young moms, with littles at your heels each day; how those night hours stretch long with hobbies and books and social media... and we clamor for the hours because they remind us that we're more than moms, we're women with interests and personality and friends too.  But to over-indulge means to leave yourself filled up in one way, but empty in another crucial area.  We need sleep!

 Set an alarm.  Getting up before the sun isn't necessary for me, but getting up before my children is!  A shower and a scripture and wet hair wound-up in a bun is more than enough to hand my day over to Grace.

First Fruits.  Coming to the Lord as the day begins is a tangible reminder for me to lift my eyes up to the mountains from where my help comes from.  And that helper's name is Grace.  So I look up expectantly.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains –

where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,

the Maker of heaven and earth.

Psalm 121:1-2

Whisper.  When the clock is ticking and I start to feel my blood boil, I want to snatch the shoe strings out of slow hands. But  when I'm tempted to holler about the ways they've all fallen short that morning,  I choose to do the opposite.  The opposite.  I whisper.  Not always, mind you, I'm learning too, but when I remember they all stop and look at me like I've got something important on the tip of my tongue.  And they actually hear me.  My loud voice is much less effective.

Pray for each heart of stone.  We tend to focus on the hard hearts in our children, and their desire to do their own thing rather than what's been asked of them.  I feel their wayward hearts of stone in the early morning hours.  But when I whisper and take their hands to lead them gently, I am reminded about my own need for a soft flesh heart.  And while we can purpose and reprogram some... only God can give us a totally new heart, and put His Spirit deep within us.  And Grace, Grace is so much a part of His Spirit.  We need it.  And we need Him.

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you;

I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.

Ezekiel 36:26

This was a long note, and always unfinished as we are all works in progress.  How I wish we could jump through the internet and sit together to talk through these things.