Mama Sets the Tone

I sat across the table from my friend Amy. She had the worn, tired look of I- have-little-kids-and-Daddy’s-out-of-town. Her husband was a DNR officer and had gotten a new job. While he worked through six months of school and training in another state, Amy stayed behind to keep the kids anchored. They’d move, as a family, when the training was complete.

“Are you holding up okay?” I asked. I noticed the large calendar on the wall behind her. Not many squares held the dark, heavy X of days-gone-by.

“I’m exhausted,” she said. “The kids aren’t sleeping well and their behaviors are off.”

“That must be hard.”

“It is,” she said. “But I’m the mom and I set the tone. The kids see me first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I try to keep things peaceful. Positive. They look to me for that.”

Our conversation was several years ago, but I haven’t forgotten Amy’s words. They're powerful . They ring true, whether Daddy’s home or not. We’ve all heard the saying, “If Mama aint happy, no one’s happy.” But Amy, in God’s strength, put this one in reverse. Applied a positive spin. In their lives and in their home.

As Mamas and keepers of hearts and homes, we do carry this responsibility. Some days I like it. Some days I don’t. It doesn’t really matter. The responsibility is mine, just the same. It’s sort of like when one of my little guys takes a fall. He stops, examines the damage, and looks to me to see if he should cry. If I say “Shake it off, Buddy”, he’s usually fine. If I fret and fuss and make a major deal over a minor spill, there’s bawling to beat the band.

Mama lays it down.

Of course there are days, those days, when we need rest and grace and the Lord offers both in sweet abundance (that's another post). But in general, this honorable responsibility holds true: If I want my home to be a place of encouragement, growth, and joyful service, a rich place where God’s sweet love flows fresh and free, in His strength I need be walking the walk. Talking the talk.

Setting the tone for others in my home.

Father, only in your grace and strength can I set the tone for a healthy, strong, God-honoring home. Empower me. Fill me. Let your Spirit flow!

The Marriage Candle - An Intentional Kind of Love

It's happening.

The week is spinning too fast. Commitments press into one another. It's impossible to tell if we're coming or going. Lonny and I are giving one another scraps.

And we're dangerously on the verge of being child-centered again.

We try. We really do. But this week it's a science fair. And swimming. And a dozen other very-good-for-the-boys things.

Our desire is to hold our priorities. God first. Marriage next. Then the children. But we're on a wild track and the pace is steady and hard. We need to step off.

I decide to share this revelation while the van is stacked with kids.

"Do you remember when Marilyn shared about the marriage candle?"

Lonny glances at me. The interstate is loaded with semi-trailer trucks and our vehicle is loaded with noise. We haven't talked about our friend Marilyn for a decade and he obviously has no recollection of a marriage candle. He wonders what he's in for and looks at me like I'm half mad.

"The marriage candle," I say. "She and her husband had one. On the mantel. One of them would light it when their marriage needed time."

"Okay," he says. "I can understand that. Needing some time."

 He's willing and I'm determined.

So when we get home I pull a candle from the closet. It's deep and red and heavy in my hands. I place it on the piano. Strike a match. The wick flickers. Then holds a steady flame.



The marriage candle is lit.

A secret whisper.

It's time to restructure.

It's time for us.



Lord, help us hold our priorities when our world has gone wild. Especially when our world has gone wild. Amen.

I Love You Because...

I saw the idea on Facebook. The idea of writing love notes, one for each day of the month, to the one ones we love.
 

It’s February.

Almost Valentine’s Day.

The day that warms winter with expressions of love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I sit at the pool, camped on a top bleacher, while my sons swim. There are paper hearts splayed across my lap. I'd cut them from construction paper and stuffed them into a Ziploc bag. Some hearts are big. Some are small. All are irregular because I'm not good with details and I'm not patient enough to trace.

 

They’re all blank. Waiting for words.

Five sons and a husband.

I love you because…

 

 

Emotion comes fast. I see my little one and the way he makes us lighter, green eyes shining, joy bubbling from his soul. I love you because bring laughter. I think of another son teaching his brothers about the strength in gentleness. I love you because you reach those around you. Another boy comes to mind -  how he thinks and builds and creates. I love you because you help with the work of your hands. Another son’s warm, easy hugs are frequent and firm, even now when his arms are lanky-long. I love you because you’re not afraid of affection. I think of a son and how he strives to overcome. I love you because you push when life pulls and you know to persevere. And my husband. He lives silent servanthood. I love you because you give.

I smile while I scribble.

Affirming others, building and encouraging and speaking love, is salve for one’s soul.

And as paper hearts rest on my lap and the air is thick and the rhythm of the pool is loud, my mind shifts from thoughts of my family to thoughts of the Lord. My Spirit swells. I love Him because He loved me first. Because He gave me life. Because He saved me and promised heaven and brought blessing on earth. But today, the one that is strongest on my spirit, the one that's my pulse and my breath and my reason for peace...

 I love you, Lord, because You'll never leave.

The Lord is present in every circumstance. He is present in the blessing and the goodness. He's present in the trouble and trauma. He's with me when tears flow from joy and gratitude or grief. He's ever-present with an abundance of mercy and compassion that He's offered as a grace-gift...to me. 

And the promise of His Presence brings peace.

I sit for a bit, the power of His love changing me again, renewing me, bringing refreshment and thanksgiving and tenderness. But it isn’t long before a son emerges from the pool. He climbs the stairs, leaving footprints, water dripping, white-blond hair in short, wet spikes. He reaches the top, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and treks town the stairs toward the locker room.

But midway down he stops.
 

Turns around.
 

Climbs back up.

“I love you, Mom,” he says.

And he smiles. 

Then he’s gone again.

Love.

 His Presence is everything.

I love you, Lord, because…



But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring your remembrance all that I have said to you. John 14:26 ESV

Connecting Heart Deep

“Want to take a walk?” I ask. The winter weather is mild. Lonny and a couple of the older boys are away and Zay and I have the afternoon alone.

“Sure,” he says. My fifth child. My easy-to-please.

We pull on boots. Mine are for snow but his are cowboy boots. As we walk down the drive, they clickety-clack. 

 

And we walk.

We walk down the road that runs from our house to the country. We walk until we see open space and fields and farms.

And while we walk, the sun is on our backs.

And while we walk, my son’s heart opens.

At first, we talk about the weather and the want of snow. We chat about the runner sled that waits in the garage and the hill that's a weak green. Conversation skims the surface. But as we move along, things change. Isaiah begins to share from the soul. He speaks little-boy life and childhood dreams. He speaks of things hidden deep.

I ask questions. I respond to the beat of his heart. By now we’re away from the crazy. We’ve taken reprieve from the wild. Though we’re only a quarter- of-a-mile down the road, we’re far enough from fast living that I can hear my son. I can hear his heart.

 

These moments, this undivided, unshared sliver of time is gold to me. It’s worth more than anything  I could hold with my hands.

And I wonder, is this how it is with the Lord?

Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. Psalm 62:8 ESV

Pour out your heart.

Oh, the grace in this. The sweet amazing grace. That the Lord would want me to share from the heart.

Heart-pouring, soul-sharing, takes effort and time.

I think about this, as we walk along. As my son has grown quiet. As his soul has been shared and there’s peace.

This time of reaching past the superficial into the things that matter, into the things that make a person, into the precious-intimate things, was the result of an effort.  A separation. An intentional, purposeful act.

Lord, give me the wisdom, the desire, to walk alone with You.

As I’ve delighted in the soul-sharing of my son, I understand how the Lord must delight in the times that I share with Him. In the times that my spirit opens wide. In the times when there is no distraction, no barrier, and I’m like a child, wanting to be known.

While we walk along, our shadows fall and Isaiah reaches for my hand. We move down the hill, toward our home. The winter sun begins to slip but the two of us are settled and still.

There is value in quiet moments.

Quiet moments shared with the One we love.

 

FAITH WHEN THINGS GET MESSY

It’s Saturday and we’re dusting and vacuuming and picking up like mad. A few of the boys are having friends over and it stuns me to the center that as hard as we try, our home never gets past that “lived in” look.

Life can be messy. Messy will happen as long as we live and breathe.

A boy carries his dirty clothes hamper down the old, curved stairs. He and I stand together, feeding jeans and sweatshirts into our over-worked washer, and I think of my long-ago dreams of having a perfectly tidy home. One void of dirt and spills and stains and mess. Now I know that won’t happen.

A family lives here.

When we were fewer in number and my oldest sons were small, I believed that I would be able to keep our emotional and spiritual lives free of mess too. I believed that if I said yes to all the right things and barricaded the door against the wrong, we’d be safe inside. I had the best intention and the things we practiced were solid and good.

But the thing is, people aren’t perfect.

Life happens and can take turns that are out of our control.

The plan, the perfect plan, can turn messy.

The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.  Matthew 7:25 NIV

I’m learning, as I stretch and grow in my faith, that following the Lord doesn’t mean that I can keep life- storms at bay. It doesn’t mean that I can protect my family from every wind, rain, or struggle. What is does mean, sweet amazing grace, is that the Lord is with us when the storms come.

The Lord is perfectly present when life doesn’t go as planned.

When I think about the times that I’ve been overwhelmed by grace, when His goodness has seeped into my soul and brought peace that penetrates peril, when I’ve needed Him as much as I’ve needed air and He’s been just as present, I understand that the most intimate times of experiencing His Presence may have been during the trials.

He’s by my side in the middle of a mess.

He is faithful.

The washer chugs and the dishes are in the rack, and when a small blond son finds me, his green eyes are wide with hope.

“Are we done, Mom? Will you look at my bedroom?”

I climb the stairs and check his room. The beds are made. The floor is clutter-free. There’s a line-up of teddy bears on the chest by the window.

Looks fine to me.

An hour later our home is rich with the sound of boys. There’s laughter. The thud of feet pounding up the stairs. Bigger boys are in the family room and a couple of small ones rush through the living room with the dog at their heels.

The house isn’t perfect.

By some standards it may be a mess.

But it’s okay.

 

The Lord is here.

 

FAITH - LOVING THE LORD AND LOVING OTHERS (LIVING ON TARGET)

The bitter has broken. We’ve had below-zero temps but today it’s 40 degrees and the sun shines bright. I leave Samuel in charge during lunch break from school and I go for a run. When I return, the younger boys are waiting, slingshots in hand.

“We’re ready,” a son says. “We have the ammo from Mr. Roger. Can we have a few more minutes of lunch break?”

I look into their green eyes – these two youngest sons. They’re full of hope. Yesterday, a friend from church gave them a bag of white marbles. “Be careful,” he said. “Don’t shoot at one another. Set your target in an open space and be wise.”

I think about our afternoon home school subjects. It’s a weighty load. Then I look at the sunshine that stretches over the living room rug in wide, gold bars and I have to give in.

“Careful,” I say.

The boys are off.

And as I watch these sons, standing together and slinging marbles at a pizza box they’ve fashioned to a bulls-eye, I wonder….

Am I living on target? How close am I to hitting the mark?

I think of Jesus and his reply when asked which command in God’s law is most important.

Jesus said, “’Love the Lord your God will all your passion and prayer and intelligence.’ This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: ‘Love others as well as you love yourself.’ These two commands are pegs; everything in God’s Law and the Prophets hangs from them.” Matthew 22:34-36 MSG

I watch from the window as my boys shoot and bolt into the marshy yard to retrieve their marbles. I watch until my breath fogs the glass.

Lord, let me live on target.

When I think about it, when I pare it all back and look at time and talents and what I’ve done with what the Lord gives, I worry that I fall short. Busyness robs my intention and sets me off track.

Lord, let me be wise and obedient. Let me love you first and others next.

I stand there a few minutes longer, watching my boys play under the unusually warm January sun. When one boy hits the target, the bulls-eye center, there’s a celebration.  A loud, heartfelt cheer.

I smile and clap and tap on the glass. I give a thumbs-up and the boys do a thumbs-up back. Their joy is bright as the day.

Hitting the target is precious.

Lord, empower me. With Your Spirit and direction, I can live well for You.

Winning the Battle of What-If Worry

We’re sitting close, four of us on two loveseats, but we still lean in to listen. This is our prayer group and what we share here comes straight off the soul. We’re transparent. We’re open. We praise together and ache together and it’s the prayers of these ladies that sustains me when the struggle is hard.

We all wrestle with a tough circumstance. We all fight an unseen foe.

I share about what’s happening in my world and then my friend shares of what’s happening in hers. As she speaks of difficult things, I’m compelled, drawn, to her countenance. My friend’s words come in a soft, even flow. Her shoulders are relaxed. Her hands aren’t curled to knots and there’s something beautiful on her face that pulls the attention of my heart.

It’s peace.

“How do you do it?” I ask later. “How have you gotten to this place – this place that appears quiet and  calm?”

My friend thinks for a moment and then shares spirit-deep. “It’s the Lord,” she says.  “I’m learning to surrender. It takes time, and I’m not always there. But it’s gotten better.”

Later that night, the winter wind howls over the dark and my what-if worry rages strong too. I get caught here often. Worrying for the future of one I love. Conjuring what could happen and getting lost in the murk of fear. But as I lie in bed, the Lord reminds me of the conversation with my friend.

Surrender.

The LORD shall  fight for you , and ye shall hold your peace. Exodus 14:14 KJV

The wind keeps blowing, it’s harsh and shrill, but these Words that have come to my Spirit become a salve. I close my eyes and think of the Lord’s power. His glory. His compassion and faithfulness and even His love for me. And though He is more than I can imagine, I feel my muscles relax. My heartbeat slows. I let each what-if worry run through my mind but this time I hold it against the Lord’s strength.

And it becomes powerfully clear to me that the only way to win the battle of worry is to lay my own weapons down.

To disengage.

To recognize that the One who is all powerful is powerful in battle for me.

He’s fighting the war in my mind and he’s fighting for my loved one too.

Oh, the peace that I can hold when I’m willing to let go.

I pray into the night, for some time, but the prayer has changed. It doesn't flow from a place of panic or from the ragged place of a heart consumed with fear. There is, instead, gratitude. I thank the Lord for His Presence in the battle and for the things that He will do – for the things that He has done.

And as I fall asleep, I think of my friend and the peace on her beautiful face.

The way to win the battle of worry is in the strength to let it go.