My Son...

You might be the mom of a boy if...

... you gasp when he passes gas and he thinks that's funny so he pushes out another toot and laughs at your face, then tries to push out another one.

... you scream when he pulls your hair and he thinks that's funny so he pulls your hair again and laughs.

... he whimpers from the other room and you find him stuck under a chair/bed/table/any big piece of furniture.

... you smack his hand when he touches something he's been told not to touch and he looks at you and laughs, then tries to touch it again.  (And you smack his hand until it's red but it doesn't seem to faze him at all.)

... you give him a toy and he throws it just so he can watch you pick it up again.

... you sing him your made-up song and he snuggles into your shoulder and goes right to sleep.

A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again ” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we. The repetition in Nature may not be a mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical encore. Heaven may encore the bird who laid an egg.”

-G.K. Chesterton

Do Not Give Up

Do not give up. Fight the good fight

For we know that despite heavy losses

The final battle will be won.

Do not give up.  Prove that the faith

You profess to possess truly

Is as strong as steel.

Do not give up. Live as a testament

To the fact that through Christ

All things can and shall be done

Do not give up. For the great reward

Shines brightly and you always said

It would be worth it in the end.

Do not give up.  Mirror the love

That covers the multitude of sins

That you committed of your own accord

Do not give up.  Extend the grace

You desperately need

to be extended to you

Do not give up.  For we know that all things

Work together for good and someday

We will all meet together in the clouds.

Do not give up.  He will give you strength

To be the example to me

That will help me not to give up.

Do not give up.

Victorious

My son's name means victorious, and this is no accident.

I started out 2010 with a New Year's resolution to be victorious.  We know that we will ultimately be victorious when we are on the Lord's side, but sometimes we fail on a daily basis.  I want to have victory in my life over the things that attack me.  I want victory over insecurity, victory over pride, and victory over anger and bitterness.  I want victory for my son, victory in my marriage, victory over Satan's evil attacks against all the relationships in my life.  He wants to separate us from Christ AND each other, but I'm on to him!  I will hold onto Jesus and cling to His peace and trust in His name for my victory.

This is not always easy.  Let me rephrase that.  It is NEVER easy.  I know that He wants me to live a victorious life in Him, but I have to choose that victory.  I have to fight for that victory.  We are warriors, after all.  I hope it gets easier as time passes, but at this point in my life it is a daily, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute scene of hand-to-hand combat.  The sweat pours off me and my blade is hot from hitting my foes so frequently.  I have to keep my focus Heavenward in order to be victorious.

The Little One

Sometimes there are words spinning in my head just itching to come out, but I haven't had the heart to release them in a long, long time.  That isn't normal for me, but I've come to know a new normal in the last two years and maybe normal isn't so great after all.  My sister has always told me how weird I am and I think she was right.

One theme that recurs in my head over and over and over again is this amazing state of motherhood.  I try not to be one of those moms who rhapsodizes about her child so much that it makes everyone around her sick.  I am fully aware that I am biased toward my son; I fully believe that there has never been nor ever will be a cuter little boy or a sweeter or more amazing one.  But I am also fully aware that every mom feels the same way and I'm okay with that.  In any case, I love my son wholly and unconditionally and radically.  I say radically because it surprised me just how much I loved him from the moment he was born, and I love him even more deeply today.  I was shocked by the depth of my feelings; I had no idea that I had this capacity for love.  I was surprised because I thought I already loved someone as much as one human can ever love another, and that love is for my baby's father.  I do love my husband trulymadlydeeply, but the love I have for our son is deep and beautiful and strong in a completely different way.  I recently read a mother describe it as discovering another chamber in your heart, and I think that explains it perfectly.

I've always been a romantic, so I don't blame you if the above paragraph makes you a little nauseous.  I told you the words were trying to get out... now they won't be flying around in my head, bumping into my skull.