Patience and Careful Instruction (Verse Seven)

My mother-in-law birthed eight boys. One time, she was talking with a young mom who had just found out that her third baby was going to be a third boy. "Did you pray for patience?" My mother-in-law quipped. "Don't pray for patience - God will send you sons!"

Of course, that was in jest, but the fact remains that being a mom does give plenty of opportunities to develop patience, among some other fine character qualities. It is what each mom does with those opportunities that really counts. That is something I think of often since becoming a mom because of a book I read when I was pregnant with Big Brother. A dear lady gave me a book called Sacred Parenting by Gary Thomas. His basic premise is that parenting can be used by God as (and is meant to be) part of our sanctification process. Looking at all those sleepless nights, frustrating incidences, endless messes, endless inconveniences as part of my sanctification - as part of dying to self and growing more Christ-like - has radically changed my attitude on more than one occasion.

Still, I struggle to "speak the truth in love" just like the next person. I'm in a constant stream of "teachable moments" right now and it can feel overwhelming. (Let's be honest. Parenting is tough.) I'm taking this verse to heart in regards to my journey as a mom. I had chosen a different verse entirely, but this morning God brought 2 Timothy 4:2 to my attention and I needed this today. I don't think my need for this reminder will be going anywhere anytime soon, so here is my verse seven:

Preach the word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage - with great patience and careful instruction. 

II Timothy 4:2

Not Scarred For Life

This is a post that I've had whirling in my head for a long time. I need to hear this reminder frequently. Some other mom out there needs to hear it, too.

I was hospitalized before Little Brother was born due to pregnancy complications. After Little Brother was born, he was in the NICU for ten weeks. I spent all day every day at the hospital with him. It was almost as if I was hospitalized, too. There are a lot of musings from that time period about which I will write in the future. That story has to be told bit by bit by bit, the way it was experienced.

Today, though, as a friend is facing a similar trial, heavy on my heart is the part of the story that affected Big Brother. You see, he was not quite three years old and suddenly his life plunged into chaos. During that time, my heart broke to be apart from him. His third birthday came and went without much ado. Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year's came and went… and his mommy was absent. He missed me. He wanted me to "snuggle" him on the couch. He would hold my hand to his cheek when he saw me, and close his eyes as if being near me was complete bliss.

I told some people how I felt about it, and everyone would say, "Well, at least he won't remember it!" I tried to comfort myself somehow with that thought - he was small enough that he wouldn't remember it. He wouldn't have to carry that burden his whole life. Isn't this what we do? We worry about how we are "scarring our children for life" with the things that we say and do or don't say and don't do. There is always guilt associated with every facet of motherhood… guilt associated with both sides of every single decision. 

God gave me a verse to which I clung in desperation throughout Little Brother's hospitalization and the months that followed his homecoming:

I fought fear every day. It was an excruciating, exhausting battle, but I reminded myself that He loved my boys so much more than I love them. I had to surrender them to Him time and time again.

I still clung to the hope that Big Brother wouldn't be scarred for life by my absence when Little Brother was born and hospitalized. Then, one day, just a few short months ago, I heard Big Brother say to Little Brother, "You were in the hospital for a LONG TIME. But don't worry. You don't have to go back there EVER AGAIN."

Tears stung my eyes, and my heart sunk with the realization that he had not forgotten. For a short time, I was tortured by this. I wondered how it was going to affect him in the future; I worried that he was "scarred for life."

Then something clicked in my head. I don't know if it was the Holy Spirit whispering to my heart or what, but these words came to me: Yes, he remembers. He remembers and he is okay. Quite simply, it was part of his journey, just like the things that have hurt me in my life were part of my journey. I realized that just as there is no part of my life, no hurt, no circumstance, that is beyond the redemption of Christ - that same truth applies to the hurts in the lives of my loved ones! He can redeem my mistakes as a mother and use them for good. Of course, it will be up to my boys, but it will be their choice. They do not have to be scarred for life.

Rat-a-tat-tat-a-tat Rum-a-tum-tum

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Amy. She loved it when her mommy would read books to her. One of her favorite books for mommy to read was The Boy With a Drum.

Amy loved the story of the little boy whose drumming inspired all of the animals to go a'marching. She loved the rhythm and the rhyme of the tale. She loved listening to her mommy's voice saying the words.

A few years later, when Amy grew up and had children of her own, she still loved to read The Boy With a Drum. Now, she was the mommy and it was her own voice telling the story of the sweet little boy and all of the animals.

There once was a boy 
with a little toy drum - 
Rat-a-tat-rat-a-tat 
Rum-a-tum-tum

The book was old when Amy was little. It is older still now. Though the pages are worn and ripped in places and the cover has been taped on too many times to count, Amy cannot bear the thought of getting rid of it.

They all marched away
to the top of a hill -
If they haven't stopped marching
They'll be marching still.


This is the final Blogtember post! Prompt: a picture of something old. Thanks for reading!

Turning Blue

The Downton Abbey craze hit me after Christmas. (Spoiler alert! Do not continue reading if you don't already know what happens in season 3.) My sister bought me seasons 1 and 2 on blu ray and I started watching them after Little Brother came home from the hospital. I fell in love with the characters and got caught up in the story line. Then I started watching season 3 and after the first episode, things started going downhill rather quickly. I'm not even excited about season 4. In fact, I doubt I'll watch it. I almost despise Downton Abbey now.

Lady Sybil (Photo Credit)

It started with Sybil, and turning blue.

Lady Sybil dies in a terrifying, excruciating childbirthing scene. The acting is beyond stellar. Essentially, she suffocates before her family's eyes, turning a devastating shade of blue that was all-too-familiar to me.

Little Brother turned that same shade of blue.

When Little Brother was in the NICU, I would hold him for a certain time period every day. They call it "skin-to-skin" or "Kangaroo Care" and it is mommy-baby bonding time. One day, as I was holding him, his Dr came to speak to us.

"He is doing really well," the Dr. said. "I think we may move him to the Special Care Nursery. He might even be home by Christmas!"

I was delighted by this, naturally! I could almost see the words "Home For Christmas" hanging in the air like a cartoonish speech bubble above the Dr.'s head. They didn't have time to evaporate in my imagination before Little Brother's monitor started beeping loudly.

While he was in the hospital, Little Brother was hooked up to all kinds of monitors. The one that had started beeping was his oxygen saturation monitor. As long as his oxygen levels stayed above 85%, all was well. His levels had dropped.

This, in itself, was not altogether startling. In fact, it happened all of the time. I turned to look at the monitor, trying to massage Little Brother's back at the same time to stimulate his breathing a bit. That usually worked.

Not this time. The oxygen saturation number dropped, and kept dropping, and Little Brother's face was blue and suddenly a nurse stepped in, whisked him from my arms and started helping him breathe with the dreaded green bag.

Time slowed, and the moment was burned into my brain. I could still see his little blue face, and all that I could do was watch helplessly. Please God, Please God, Please God, Please God... That was the only prayer I could come up with at the moment. I could almost hear the Holy Spirit groan.

It felt like an eternity passed, but the numbers on the monitor slowly began to rise and soon the monitor stopped its incessant alarm. He was safe.

This turning blue thing that Little Brother did happened more times than I care to count. Every time it happened, I was afraid. It was in those moments that I clung to Isaiah 49:16 and remembered Hannah, who gave Samuel to the Lord.

That's - partially - why I'm not a huge Downton Abbey fan any longer.



Today's Blogtember assignment was to tell about a time when I was afraid. 

Day Twenty-Nine: Five songs that speak to me or bring back memories

It is because of THIS post topic that I was sold on doing this blog for a month thing! Music plays such a big role in my life... almost as big a role as books have played. God has used music to minister to me more times than I can count.

I have an eclectic love of music, and it was REALLY difficult for me to choose only five songs! I put a lot of thought into these choices... but I could easily choose five times five MORE songs that I love just as much as these. I've got them categorized for fun.

1. Motherhood - If you only listen to one of these, please make it When You Come Back Down by Nickel Creek. This is the song of my heart when it comes to my sons. It never fails to bring me to tears, as I envision them grown and going out to do great things on their own.

2. Movie Soundtrack - I enjoy a good movie soundtrack more than just about anyone else I know. When the Hubs and I watch a movie, I will comment to him, "This show has a great soundtrack!" Some such movies were "Social Network," and "True Grit." I listen to the "You've Got Mail Soundtrack" a lot and own all of the Disney Princess soundtracks. (I can belt 'em out as good as any princess, you bet!) However, my favorite movie soundtrack has to be "Sense and Sensibility." I used My Father's Favourite as the music during the photo slideshow at our wedding. It is also one of my favorite songs to play on the piano.

3. Praise Song - Oh, man. I could list at least fifty songs in this category alone. Over the last few years, I've burned cd compilations for this category. I call those playlists "Amy's Songs" and send the cds to my Dad. (I get my love of music from him.) There are so many that make my hands go in the air, praising my Savior. Still My Soul, Be Still is one of my favorites to sing in church. Aaaaaand, because I can't choose just one in the category, and if you want to listen to another, try In Christ Alone. Tears, tears, tears.

4. Love Song - Who can choose just one??? I've made cd playlists of love songs for friends before their weddings... The song that always brings back memories from when The Hubs and I were dating is If You're Not the One by Daniel Bedingfield. One day, when I got off work and started my car for the drive home, this song began playing. It wasn't on the radio... The Hubs (who was The Boyfriend at the time) had purchased the cd, used my hide-a-key to get into my car while I was working, put the cd in my cd player and set it to start immediately when I started my car. LOVE. Oh, the romantic things he did when we were dating. So sweet.

5. Just For Fun - We love Rascal Flatts and own all of their cds. Banjo is a great song. It makes me want to drive the dirt roads with the windows down in a big ol' pick up truck.

Hope you enjoy these musical selections!

Side Note: Guy Pen

Well over a year ago, Big Brother found an ink pen in a breakfast cereal box. Here it is:

Obi-Won Kenobi ink pen

He uses it all.of.the.time. He has never watched Star Wars and doesn't know what that is, so the fact that the pen is a character from those movies is beyond him. He calls this ink pen his "guy pen." Because, it's a guy. And it's a pen. And I love that about him.

The other day, we were talking about the fact that his mechanical pencil ran out of lead, and he went to get his guy pen to finish his drawing.

"You know," I told him, "someday, your guy pen will run out of ink."

"It will?" He was horrified.

"Yes."

"WHY?"

"Because all pens die eventually," I answered.

"MY GUY PEN IS GOING TO DIE?" he shrieked.

I could have done a forehead slap on myself for my poorly chosen words. It took me a while to explain what I meant and what that would mean to his beloved guy pen.

Day Thirteen: Issue a public apology

To the librarian who had to ask my son to stop climbing up the side of the checkout desk: I’m sorry.  I don’t know how I was oblivious to that when it was happening right beside me. He does know better than that. I HAVE taught him manners. He DID have consequences for the incident.

I was supremely disappointed to be THAT mom of THAT child. I am dreadfully sorry you witnessed our imperfection. We will do better next time.

Day Twelve: What I miss

I was going to wax eloquent on some sentimental topic for this post, but then I got to thinking about it and I think the thing that I miss most right now is: SLEEP. When you have an infant, you lose sleep. I can’t complain, because Little Brother has been sleeping through the night for a while now, but he gets up EARLY. If I want to get my Bible reading in before he awakens, I have to get up EARLIER.

Even if I go to bed at a decent hour and Little Brother sleeps all night, there always seems to be SOMETHING to wake me up at least once in the night. For example, the other night, Little Brother cried out in his sleep, which woke Big Brother, who then started crying. When I went into his room to comfort him, he tearfully told me, “I can’t close my eyes, mommy! I can’t go back to sleep because my eyes won’t close!” (This did not precipitate him getting up, much to his chagrin. Did I mention it was 4:08am?)  Also, I am regrettably a light sleeper, so the slightest sound can rouse me from a dead sleep. Since The Hubs’ snores are anything but the slightest sound, this presents a problem from time to time as well. For a while, Little Brother would wake himself up by rolling over in his sleep, and I would have to flip him. These are just a few reasons why I started a two-coffee-cups-per-morning habit.

Ah. Sleep. How I miss thee. 

Day Nine: A moment in my day

Walking with my sweet sons

Day Seven: Your Biggest Fear

There is a scene in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix where Harry walks into a room to find Mrs. Weasley being tormented by a boggart. A boggart is a physically harmless beast whose real threat is to rattle its prey emotionally. It is a shape-shifter, and takes the form of whatever it thinks will most frighten the person in front of it. Harry is astonished when he witnesses a boggart take the form of each of Mrs. Weasley’s children, one at a time, laying before her, cold and lifeless. As a horrified and confused Harry watches, Mrs. Weasley sobs, completely debilitated by the thought of her children being hurt.

That detail of the book didn’t really impact me until I became a mom. It brings me to tears now! If I was to come across a boggart, it would appear to me as the cold, lifeless body of Big Brother or Little Brother, and I, like Mrs. Weasley, would be reduced to a sobbing mess. In Harry's world, there is a magic spell that can easily defeat a boggart, but I don't have a magic wand here on earth.

Thankfully, my God is greater than my fears, and the real way to fight off those “boggarts” is with the power of The Sword. It always seems to come back to scripture memory for me. That is the only way I know to fight against the temptation to worry over the fear of “what ifs.” I don’t say that lightly. Several years ago, I was battling some pretty significant (almost crippling) fear. It wasn’t unwarranted fear, either. However, I took my fears to my pastor, and he gave me a list of scripture* that I could read and memorize to help. It made a big difference then, and came in useful again more recently.

Little Brother had a rough time after he was born. He was in the hospital for ten weeks, and there were days when fear for his life and health gripped my heart. I was shaken to my core more than once. I had to continually give Little Brother back to the Lord (because I kept “taking the burden back on my shoulders”).  I reminded myself over and over that no matter what happened, God is still God and He is still Good. It was hard. Oh, was it hard! It is STILL hard to surrender the lives of my precious sons to Him! Yet, how ridiculously prideful of me to think that they are mine anyway! As if I was in control! And really, as I’ve mentioned before, He loves them more than I ever could, anyway.

So every time fear raises its ugly head, I take up My Sword and fight. No boggart is getting into THIS head!

*II Tim. 1:7, Isaiah 26:3, Psalm 50:15, Isaiah 12:2, Psalm 27:1, Isaiah 43:1-3a, Joshua 1:9